"You're late." Samuel's voice was strained when I met him after office hours the next day and I immediately knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I touched his face with my hands, making sure he didn't have a fever because he looked terrible.

"No one found out, did they?" He asked to make certain.

"No, but I had to slip out telling Nate that I had a few things to buy. I'll have to get back soon. Samuel, what's wrong?" I asked again, worried about him.

It’s been a month and a half since Thanksgiving and winter was in full swing. I hadn’t been able to contact Sam in the...