Free Anabel Unraveled by Amanda Romine Lynch Page A

me and only said, “Good evening, Jared,” by way of greeting.
    “So Mr. Sorensen,” began Jonathan Martin, deigning to notice me, “have you found any useful information for Sam? Or has my stepson sent you here to merely make me uncomfortable?”
    “Daddy, Sam’s what, ten years younger than you? I don’t really know if you can call him your stepson,” pointed out Anabel, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin.
    “That’s enough, Anabel.”
    “I’m just saying,” she continued, “it’s not even like you were ever really his parent, he never lived with you.”
    “I said that’s enough.” The cold rage behind those words seemed to intimidate everyone at the table but Anabel, who looked like she was about to retort. However, last thing I needed was Jonathan and Anabel starting an argument at the dinner table, so I jumped in. “Mr. Martin, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I have my orders, and it looks like I’ll be leaving here even sooner than anticipated.”
    “What? Why?” asked Anabel, dropping her fork. Then she froze. I think that question had escaped her lips before she could think, and she tried to cover it by saying, “When I talked to Sam, he said you’d be here for at least three weeks. I mean, you’re here on behalf of the United States Government. Shouldn’t you do a thorough job?”
    “I think I’ve seen everything that I need to,” I told her, and she blushed a bit. She looked uncomfortable—and upset. Excellent.
    “Have you come to any conclusions?” Her voice trembled a little, and her eyes gave away everything. I knew she was scared I would tell her brother what she’d done. And I had no interest in putting her mind at ease—I wanted to torment her a little. Like she had done to me.
    “Well, I’ll call Sam in the morning, report to him what I’ve found, and we can go from there.” I smiled cordially at Jonathan Martin. “I really appreciate how kind you were to me during my stay, sir. Your daughter is lovely, and she has provided me with wonderful company. I do not regret the amount of time I spent with such a charming hostess, but I wish I had seen more of the business side of the facility. Perhaps tomorrow morning you could give me a tour?”
    “I could come with you,” Anabel offered.
    “That won’t be necessary, Miss Martin,” I cajoled. “I believe I’m familiar with your opinions on everything, but I would like to get to know your father a little better.”
    Jonathan had been watching this discourse with interest. When she slumped back in her chair, defeated, he frowned and said, “I hope Anabel hasn’t been too much of a bother for you, Mr. Sorensen. She’s a good girl, and she means well, but sometimes she forgets her place.”
    Ouch. That was cold. Anabel was fighting tears, so I relented.
    “I think very highly of your daughter, sir,” I acknowledged. “I regret that I won’t be spending more time with her. Nonetheless, business is business.”
    She looked at me through her teary eyes, unsure of whether or not she should believe me.
    “On second thought, perhaps you should come with us, Anabel,” I suggested. “You may be able to lend your own unique perspective to our discussion tomorrow.”
    “I’ll be there as well,” added Charlie. The look he gave me let me know that he intended to keep an eye on my interactions with her, and I shot him a glance, trying to communicate to him that I was not the problem where Anabel was concerned.
    Of course, now I know that I was only the start of her problems, and I completely regret the way that I treated Anabel Martin. I would like for the record to state that I, Jared Sorensen, completely failed this girl—this woman—who I was supposed to help out of a terrible situation, one that was destructive to her sense of well-being and mental health. I regret even more that the night after that conversation, I became intoxicated and forced myself on her, an act which is reprehensible and also one for