She will -Blink

"I suppose you're right," she beamed, completely missing the trap snapping shut around her. "It will be our little secret."

Samuel remained seated, sipping his coffee. An unemployed scammer had most of the free time in this world and lots of interesting tales to engage.

The hours slipped by in a blur of empty coffee mugs and bright, ringing laughter. The midday sun shifted across the kitchen tiles, but Amelia hadn't moved from her spot at the island, thoroughly enjoying the rare luxury of an uninterrupted, fun conversation.

"You are just terrible, Samuel!" Amelia giggled, tossing her golden head back as a sweet, melodic sound filled the kitchen.

Samuel chuckled warmly as he leaned casually against the counter. His rough, wrinkled hand rested boldly on her bare knee. He had been slowly inching it higher for the last forty minutes, testing her boundaries. "I'm just calling it like I see it, sweetheart. I just can't fathom how a town could have a gem like you and keep you locked in the kitchen. Weren't there any fellas your age at your old place taking you out dancing?"

"Oh, goodness no," Amelia smiled, completely unbothered by his heavy hand slowly stroking the soft skin above her kneecap. She actually leaned into the touch, finding it comforting. "Everyone in our old neighborhood was much more aged, or very traditional."

Samuel let out a hearty, booming laugh, his thumb pausing on her thigh. "Careful now, sweetheart! I'm fifty-six. I'm not exactly a spring chicken myself. Are you saying I'm just another boring old man?"

Amelia gasped, her cheeks flushing a deep, pretty pink as she quickly waved her hands. "Oh, no! No, Samuel, I didn't mean it like that at all! You're so fun to talk to. It's just... well, Marcus is forty-four, you know, and he's very set in his ways. A lot of the neighbors were like him. So, I mostly just stayed inside. I spent my days trying out new baking recipes, keeping the house spotless, and occasionally talking to the older ladies in the neighborhood over the fence."

Forty-four, Samuel thought, his thumb tracing a small circle on her thigh. So he is only twelve years younger than me... and 8 years older than his wife? That means she's been starved for a fun life from just after sixteen?.... I can use this.

"Well, that sounds like a dreadful waste of your youth," Samuel remarked sympathetically. "Although it's ironic since I'm an oldie too, haha."

Amelia sighed softly, a rare hint of wistfulness in her ocean-blue eyes. "It got a little lonely, I suppose. But Marcus always says it's a woman's job to make a house a home. Besides, he's always been very affectionate. He touches me just like you do, constantly needing to have his hands on me," she added with a bright, clueless smile, glancing down at Samuel's hand gripping her thigh. "I think it's just a sweet trait of older men. You're all so protective and physical."

Samuel almost choked on his own spit. She was actually rationalizing his blatant groping as innocent, paternal affection. Holy fuck, this bitch is literally handing herself to me on a silver platter.

"Haha, I like how you're so understanding, Amelia."

He wanted nothing more than to push her back against the kitchen island right then and there, but a quick glance at the wall clock made his stomach drop. It was almost one o'clock.

The kid. Liam. He was due back from his college orientation any minute.

"As much as I'd love to sit here all day and listen to your sweet voice," Samuel sighed, reluctantly pulling his hand away from her warm thigh, "I should probably let you get back to your unpacking before your boy gets home."

"Oh, look at the time! You're right," Amelia gasped, straightening up. "Liam will be starving. I need to fix him some lunch."

Amelia turned her back to fetch some dishes from an open cardboard box, feeling very comfortable in his presence now. Samuel’s sharp eyes darted across the clutter on the counters. He needed an insurance policy. He needed something which would allow him to hang around the cop as well without arousing any suspicion. First rule of a con. Before moving in for the prize, always neutralize the biggest risk that can expose you.

His eyes landed on a small, heavy silver coin resting on top of a stack of Marcus's folded uniform shirts. It was a St. Michael police medallion—the patron saint of law enforcement.

In one swift, practiced motion, Samuel palmed the heavy coin and slipped it into his pocket. It was the perfect tool for his future plan.

"Thank you so much for the company, Samuel," Amelia beamed, turning back around to walk him to the front door. "I haven't talked this much in years!"

"The pleasure was all mine, Amelia," Samuel smiled. "Remember, this is our little secret, okay? And text me if you need anything at all."

"I will," she promised, her wide blue eyes bright and trusting as she watched him walk back across the sunny street.