There Are No Coincidences
There Are No Coincidences
SAM
SIX MONTHS, FOUR DAYS, AND FIFTEEN HOURS AGO
P ing
Ping
Ping
The repeated notifications jolted Sam from his fitful dreams. Rolling over in bed, he checked his phone to see it was barely five o’clock in the morning—he’d only been asleep for a few hours, at most.
Fearing it was Jaime texting after another one of his nightmares, Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was only one of the Google alerts he’d set up.
His momentary relief turned to dread, however, when he realized what that meant.
Sam’s hands began to shake as he pulled up one of the alerts, and his body tensed, muscles locking up until he couldn’t really feel anything anymore as he read the headline it directed him to:
Eye witness in gripping Monroe murder trial uncovered: Jaime Lamont saw everything!
By: Derek Koven
Sam threw himself out of bed and began pacing the apartment, fumbling with his phone to dial the number he’d sworn he would never call again.
Derek picked up on the fifth ring. “I knew you’d call,” he answered sleepily.
“You’re a piece of shit ,” Sam snarled in answer, anger and fear making his voice crack. “You said you wouldn’t publish it, you spineless fuck!”
Derek exhaled a tired sigh, like Sam was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “We got a tip-off on who the unidentified witness was yesterday. The story was already a go. I just got ahead of it. You should thank me; I left out the part where the police thought your brother was the one who did it for a while.”
Sam tore his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends. “I don’t give a fuck about your excuses. You published it—that’s a forfeit of our agreement. Give me my money back, or I’ll report you to the police for blackmail.”
Derek chuckled. “No, you won’t, because then you’d have to tell them how I found out. You’d have to tell your brother you got tipsy, fucked a guy in a bathroom, and then cried about how hard it was to take care of him all the time after he saw someone nearly get ripped in half.”
Sam covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, not sure if the sound he was holding back was a scream or a sob.
“Look,” Derek continued, “I’m sorry about the way everything had to happen. The trial’s in a few weeks anyway. This couldn’t have gone on any longer after that. It was going to come out anyway. Let it go.”
Once he was sure he wouldn’t start crying, Sam took a breath and said, “Go walk off a cliff and make the world a better place, Derek,” and hung up.
Then, he cried.
Deep, chest-wrenching sobs Sam hadn’t even known he was capable of spilled out, months worth of dread and anxiety and shame. All the words of support and understanding and love he hadn’t been able to share with Jaime, all the little secrets he’d kept and lies he’d told—everything he’d shoved down and suppressed forced its way out of his chest.
After a few minutes, he collected himself enough to call Detective Sutton to ask what they planned to do to protect Jaime, only for her to sleepily feed him some bullshit about making sure a patrol vehicle would be in the area.
“He lives in the middle of nowhere, Alaska, for fuck’s sake! Monroe is a half-hour’s drive from Jaime’s cabin. What the fuck do you mean, a patrol vehicle will be in the area?” he’d snapped back.
She didn’t deserve his venom, but Sam was too much of a coward to give it to the person who did.
Detective Sutton sighed. “We’ll make sure someone is parked out there for the next couple of days, how’s that?”
Sam pulled his lips back in a near snarl. “Would it take more manpower to make sure he stays alive or to investigate his murder once he’s killed? Let’s not forget the whole reason this is a problem in the first place is because you haven’t even caught everyone involved in the first one. Do you really want a second on your hands?”
“Jesus Christ, Sam, I’m not implying?—”
“THEN WHAT CAN WE DO TO MAKE SURE HE STAYS SAFE?” he yelled over her.
She was quiet for a few heartbeats. “There’s a security firm that operates out of Silver Rapids. They take clients that travel through the area, set up local security systems, that sort of thing. It would be expensive as hell, and we don’t have the budget, but if you have the money and they’re available, I can coordinate with them to provide around-the-clock body protection until the trial.”
Sam didn’t even have to think about it. “What’s their number?”
It wasn’t until she’d given him the contact information for the security firm and they hung up that Sam fully processed what she’d said.
It would be expensive as hell.
Of course, it would be.
Scratching a hand across the stubble he’d let grow out, Sam went to pull up the financial stats on his most recent audio.
It’d been a while since he’d shared anything, and all the audios he’d put out in the last few months had been noticeably lackluster. He’d been losing a few subscribers here and there instead of gaining like he needed to make back what he’d paid for Derek’s silence. Besides, what he brought in barely covered his rent and the money he sent Jaime to help with his expenses.
Before he could flip to the app, though, a text from Derek came through. Tensing, Sam debated deleting it outright without opening it, but the old fear won out.
What if he was threatening to share even more information, and Sam was caught off guard?
FUCKFACE
For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. If you’re in a bind, give this number a call. Just be careful.
Just be careful? What the fuck did that mean?
Sam looked up the number Derek had forwarded along with the message, but couldn’t find any information.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he quickly ran through his options. He could try and ask for a loan, but that would take too long and require him to provide too much financial information which could lead to questions about the money transfers to Derek.
He could ask Jaime to come stay with him until the trial so he could keep an eye on him, but really, Sam wouldn’t be much use in a dangerous situation, and he couldn’t face being around Jaime that much without telling him the truth.
He could depend on Monroe PD’s finest to keep an eye on things, but Sam trusted them about as far as he could throw them.
With his thoughts spinning and cluttered, Sam felt backed into a corner.
If you’re in a bind, give this number a call.
He should delete that text and never think about it again. He should treat any suggestion coming from Derek like it was radioactive waste. He should come clean to Jaime, beg for his forgiveness, and ask for the police’s help to keep him safe.
He should have done a lot of things.
Instead, Sam called the number.