Her mother brightened. “That’s not a mixed signal. He’s interested.”
“Or he’s trying to buy her trust,” Milo said.
Zia nudged him. “It’s been a long time since you’ve bought me chocolate.”
He slid his arm around her shoulders. “That’s because I already have your trust, babe.”
A memory came to Charity—at the pharmacy, Speedy had called Enzo “officer”. At the time, she’d thought the man was being sarcastic, that he was pointing out anyone could be an undercover policeman. But what if Enzo actually was a police officer and Speedy had known that?
Had Speedy said the word sarcastically? She couldn’t remember anymore. All the events before the raiders seemed disjointed and blurred into insignificance. “He saved my life,” she said to reassure herself. “If he was a government operative sent to hurt us, would he have done that?”
“He saved his own life too,” Gregor pointed out. “You may have just been a byproduct of him taking care of himself.”
But Enzo hadn’t only been thinking about himself on the road. He’d been so concerned about her. He’d been willing to give up the raiders’ truck if she didn’t feel capable of driving. He’d told her jokes on the way home in an attempt to cheer her up.
Charity’s mother leaned toward her. “What are your feelings for Enzo? Do you care for him?”
Yes, but her mother was really asking: are you falling in love with him? And Charity couldn’t answer that question. She was attracted to him, wildly, stupidly attracted. He was handsome, smart, brave, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. But love required more than that. Love required respect, loyalty, and reliability. She needed to be able to trust him—with her heart and with her family’s safety.
And yet, the thought of Enzo leaving after she’d waited for him for so long filled her with a panic she hadn’t anticipated. “I don’t know who he is. He may have a bad past, but I don’t think he’s a bad person. And he’d have to be a bad person to be here spying on us for the government. He knows what the government does to Empowereds. He wouldn’t do that to us.”
Her mother smiled. “You do care for him.” She seemed relieved. Maybe she’d worried Charity was having second thoughts about fulfilling her father’s prophecy.
Her father nodded, taking in the discussion with his usual thoughtful expression. “Making Enzo leave might be detrimental to our safety.” He sighed. “I don’t always know what the visions mean, and I haven’t always liked following them. I only know that they show me the best solution for keeping my family and our city safe.” The visions kept New Salem safe because his mother, brother, and brother’s family lived there. “You understand that?”
Charity had always understood. What she didn’t understand was why he was emphasizing it now.
Her father started the van and turned back toward the bunkhouses. “We’ll wait, watch him, and assess the situation. Until we get more information, that’s really all we can do.” His eyes found Charity’s in the rearview mirror. “Remember to keep the rules about touching. Don’t be too close, but don’t be too distant.”
It seemed like a contradiction. “I’ll try,” she said.
Her answer didn’t seem to reassure him. “Just remember to be careful when you’re around him.”
She fiddled with her seatbelt strap. “Careful not to mess up the prophecy or careful because he might be a government agent?”
“Yes,” her father said.
It wasn’t a comforting answer.
18
That evening, while the other men settled into the bunkhouse, playing games or watching shows on their phones, Enzo went for a walk. Usually after a conflict, his adrenaline kept him in overdrive for a while. Eventually, it left his system, and he would crash, feeling drained and tired. That hadn’t happened yet. He still felt restless.
Perhaps because he wasn’t sure whether he’d blown his cover. He’d killed two men through a window opening of a moving vehicle. Not an easy task. If headquarters had given him a backstory involving a stint in the military, Enzo would’ve at least had an explanation for his marksmanship. Plenty of people his age had that sort of experience. The government drafted twenty percent of eighteen-year-olds into the military. If someone wasn’t going to college, exempt for health reasons, or working an essential job, Uncle Sam had an essential job waiting for them.
Headquarters wanted Enzo to seem as harmless as possible, so they’d given him a backstory about having a desk job. No one was wary of data entry clerks. Until now, anyway.
So far, Charity’s family had been more grateful than suspicious. At dinner, Maretta had heaped his plate with extra food. Gregor and Milo both sat beside him and made him repeat the details of the encounter. They probably hadn’t believed his shooting accuracy was due to luck, but a lot of harvesters were religious, so he’d leaned into that explanation. Divine providence. Sometimes it happened.
Enzo’s gaze went to the women’s cabin, a squat building with peeling gray paint. The lights were still on. Almost without thinking, he wandered toward it. He wanted to talk to Charity, to check on her. People had all sorts of reactions to trauma, and she’d gone through two events in a short period. She might be in need of comfort. And if she needed a shoulder to cry on, well, it wouldn’t be out of line to offer her one. That was part of getting to know her. Totally justifiable, should Director Schmitt ask about it.
Enzo paused before knocking. He ought to think about his actions more carefully. The fact that he wanted to check on Charity, that he was justifying it, meant he was too attached to her. He couldn’t afford that, not when he might have to arrest her or one of her family members. He ought to return to his cabin until he could think about his mission more objectively.
While he stood there debating, the Huntingtons’ van turned from the other side of the field and pulled up in front of the bunkhouses. The entire family climbed out and headed to their respective cabins. Odd. What task had all the Huntingtons been doing on the farm in the dark?
Charity noticed Enzo standing on the doorstep, and her footsteps momentarily faltered.
He smiled, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and waited for her to walk up.