Nowhere To Hide. Debby Giusti

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      The phone clicked dead. Lydia dropped it back onto the receiver as Tyler moved closer.

      “It’s gonna be okay, Mom.”

      She wrapped her arms around her son. As far as she was concerned, things couldn’t get much worse.

      Then a beam of light sliced through the darkness as someone pushed the front door open.

      TWO

      Matt Lawson peered into the darkness, saw movement and aimed his gun. “Hold it right there.” He raised the flashlight in his left hand. The arc of light broke through the darkness. “Sanctuary Security. Step toward me. Hands in the air.”

      No reaction.

      “Now, buddy!”

      A woman moved from the shadows. Slender. Five foot six. Shoulder-length blond hair. A child peered around the counter. She shoved him protectively behind her.

      “What’s going on, ma’am?”

      Lightning illuminated the spacious kitchen. Two seconds later, a clap of thunder confirmed a nearby hit.

      Why in the world would a woman and child break into one of the prestigious homes on Sanctuary Island? The woman certainly didn’t look as if she belonged in the upscale community. Wrinkled clothes. Hair hanging limp around her oval face. She reminded him of a stray cat, needing to be fed.

      Matt shook his head ever so slightly. The past year working security on the island must have skewed his common sense. He’d seen plenty of female perpetrators on the streets of Miami.

      Didn’t matter how pathetic the woman standing before him looked, he’d still have to take her back to the office, question her and, if need be, call in the mainland sheriff’s office.

      No reason why this scared wisp of a thing couldn’t be up to no good in coastal Georgia.

      “What’s your name, ma’am?”

      “Who are you?” she demanded, finally finding her voice.

      “Chief Lawson, island security.”

      She shifted her weight and stuck her chin in the air. A defiant gesture that didn’t match the glint of fear flashing from her eyes.

      “Then show me some identification,” she insisted.

      The alarm continued to shriek a warning. Letting out a frustrated breath, Matt tucked the flashlight under his arm, pulled his radio from his belt and punched in a number, never taking his eyes off the woman.

      “Eunice, this is Matt. I’m over at 50 Cove Road. Turn off the alarm.”

      The house fell silent.

      He traded the radio for his badge.

      She stepped closer, read the information, then glanced up at him as if comparing his face to the photo.

      “Now what’s your name?” he repeated.

      “It’s Lydia…Lydia Sloan. And I don’t appreciate you barging in and scaring me half to death.”

      Her assertive attempt fell flat. She looked tired and more than a bit confused.

      Lowering his voice, he repeated, “You need to tell me what you’re doing here.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him, as if weighing her options.

      “Katherine O’Connor invited us,” she finally said.

      Matt shook his head. “Why would—”

      “She said my son and I could stay while she’s on a trip to Ireland,” the woman quickly added, then blinked.

      Innocent eyes. He thought he could read people. Hard to believe Ms. O’Connor would have houseguests when she was out of the country.

      He looked at the boy, small, slender like his mom, with her blue eyes and blond hair. The kid could play a cherub in a Christmas play and steal the show.

      A look of determination washed across the boy’s face. “Don’t you arrest my mom.”

      The last thing he wanted was to scare a child. “Look, son—”

      “I’m not your son,” the boy shot back.

      The woman wrapped her arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Tyler, please.”

      Matt raised his gaze. The woman watched him, eyes filled with suspicion, face drawn tight with worry.

      “How’d you get inside the house, ma’am?”

      “Katherine left a key on the porch.”

      He chuckled under his breath. “Kind of makes my job a little tougher when the residents leave a welcome mat out for anyone who happens along.”

      “I beg your pardon?” Lydia’s body stiffened. “As I said, Tyler and I were invited here.”

      “But Ms. O’Connor turned on the alarm? Now, that makes about as much sense as—”

      “I can explain.” The woman held out a crumpled wad of paper. “She left the code for me. The rain smeared the ink.”

      He took the paper from her hand, unfolded it and aimed the flashlight. Peacock-blue ink. The same distinctive color Ms. O’Connor had used when she’d completed the out-of-town paperwork requesting additional surveillance of her home. Of course, she hadn’t mentioned any houseguests.

      “Funny, she could have given you the code over the phone,” he said.

      Lydia shrugged. “I didn’t have paper to write on. Katherine said she’d leave it under the plant. We never expected the rain.”

      The woman appeared to be telling the truth. But better to play it safe. A number of homes on the mainland had been burglarized recently. Wouldn’t take much for trouble to make its way to the island.

      “Let’s take a tour of the house. You lead the way, ma’am.”

      She hesitated. “Is this necessary?”

      “’Fraid so. I need to make sure no one else is hanging around.”

      “Well, of all the—”

      “Call it what you like, ma’am. Let’s get started.”

      She sighed, but nodded for the boy to walk with her, then kept her hand on his shoulder as if to ensure he wouldn’t stray from her side. Matt stepped around the counter and worked his flashlight over the adjoining great room.

      A painting hung on the wall, Christ in a fishing boat with the disciples, calming the Sea of Galilee.

      Matt glanced outside. The cloud cover broke momentarily. The moon СКАЧАТЬ