When the woman turned to Samantha, she took off her reading glasses and raised an eyebrow, "This is a magnificent collection. How did you happen to come about them?"

"They belonged to my mother," Samantha said. She couldn't tell the woman she'd stolen them from a serial killer who'd taken them off his victims over three hundred fifty years.

"Your mother? Where is she?"

"She's dead. Both my parents are dead," Samantha said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Whom are you staying with now?"

"I'm staying with my cousins. They're Amish," she said, remembering what Mr. Pryde had said the day before.

"You must have come a long way then. There aren't any Amish communities in Maine I'm aware of."

"We did come a long way. On a boat," Samantha said.

"I see." The woman crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you and I need to have a discussion with Sheriff McCovey."

"The police? Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I can't accept stolen goods from a runaway. It's against the law. Now, why don't you sit down and the sheriff can take you home."

"I'm not a runaway," Samantha said. "I'm-" She tried to come up with a plausible explanation for how a fourteen-year-old girl could end up on her own with a bag of jewelry. She finally snatched the bag from the counter and took off running. The woman shouted for her to come back, but Samantha paid her no heed. She had to get out of here before the police showed up and asked her questions she couldn't answer, like where she'd come from and where she'd been for the last nine years.

Samantha ran along the docks, searching for a place to hide from the police. Fishermen looked up as she ran by, one even whistling at her. Behind her, she heard a siren and knew she didn't have much more time to disappear before she was caught.

As she continued to run past boats and piles of equipment, she looked back for any sign of someone following her. She turned her head around in time to run into a man tying up his boat. They both tumbled to the ground, the bag of jewelry shooting out of Samantha's hand and spilling on the ground. She sat up to find Mr. Pryde standing over her, offering her a hand.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Why you running?" He indicated the bag of jewelry lying on the ground. "What's all this? You been stealing from people? Is that your game? You and your friends come here pretending to be Amish so you can rob folks?"




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