Desperate Measures

by Christy Barritt

  She’d finally closed the door, and Anthony had left.

  Then she’d been curious.

  What had he wanted so badly? His visit had motivated her to go through the items he’d left at the house. After searching the desk once more, and in a moment of dumb luck, she’d discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers. Inside were his company’s books. She’d glanced at the pages, and what she’d seen had blown her away. Her husband had been scamming people.

  She crunched the numbers and compared the figures to other records left at the house. That was when she’d realized that her husband and his friends had been embezzling from some of the city’s wealthiest. They’d promised a twenty-five percent return on their investments for flipping houses. Instead, her husband and his friends had kept all the profit for themselves.

  She confronted Anthony, and he denied her accusations. Then he’d gotten quiet and asked her not to pursue her theories any further. He’d warned her that asking questions could lead to trouble.

  Samantha hadn’t listened. She’d thought it was just an empty threat. She’d told him he had two days to come clean himself or she was turning the books over to authorities. Anthony had begged her not to.

  Never had she imagined that in those two days, one of his friends would come up with a way to frame her. Nor had she imagined that her husband would be killed in a car crash. And she never would have imagined that Billy, Anthony’s best friend—and a cop—would frame her for Anthony’s murder. He was the mastermind behind everything, the one calling the shots.

  The police had brought Samantha in for questioning, and it became clear she was going to take the fall for Anthony’s murder and the supposed part she’d played in the investment scheme. When she’d been let go on bail she’d grabbed the telltale books and fled.

  It hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. But Samantha had done it.

  Now, here she was today. She’d hidden all the evidence she’d taken with her in a safety deposit box. The law— including Billy, under the guise of doing his job—was chasing her. If Billy found her, she’d pay the ultimate price for her betrayal.

  He wouldn’t get her. The fighting instinct in her knew she wouldn’t let that happen. She’d defend herself—and her son—with every last breath. She’d gotten this far.

  Samantha had been on the run for the past year. Every time there was a hint that Billy or one of his hired men might be close, she’d fled. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it was better to keep moving than chance being killed. Better than it would have been if she’d stayed and been convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed. Then Connor would have no one. Samantha’s dad was long gone. Her mom was in and out of rehab—in other words, unreliable.

  The other men involved just did Billy’s dirty work. Samantha had suspicions he was blackmailing them. That was the way he operated—by manipulation. The man who’d attacked her last night had been a stranger, no doubt someone who’d been hired.

  Billy was serious. He was scary. And he was determined to find Samantha.

  It was too bad the police wouldn’t help. No, the police couldn’t be trusted. Billy and his friends had planted that money in Samantha’s bank account—somehow and someway. Samantha still wasn’t sure about the details. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. To go online now and snoop around was risky. She didn’t want to do anything to lead the police to her door.

  The breeze fanned her face. She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself think about what it would be like to be carefree. To be on this island on vacation. To be able to relax and enjoy herself and have fun without always having to look over her shoulder.

  When she opened her eyes, she realized they were moist. No little girl ever imagined at the beginning of her happily-ever-after story that things would go this horribly wrong. Her life had become a living nightmare.

  She stared at the moon over the bay. It was bright and luminous. It sent a trail of light over the water.

  Samantha glanced over at John’s cabin. The man seemed nice enough. And he kept to himself. That was a good thing. Keeping distance from people was almost a requirement right now. It often left her feeling empty, but at least Connor would remain safe. That was all she could ask.

  At least Connor had made a new best friend in Rusty by being here. Good. The dog would distract him and keep him occupied. John didn’t seem to mind.

  She smiled when she thought about Connor squealing with delight as Rusty chased him along the shore. That boy had always wanted a dog. But she could never get him one.

  What would happen if they had to pick up and leave? A dog would only get in the way.

  She hoped he didn’t become too attached.

  A noise in the distance caught her ear.

  She tensed. What was that? It almost sounded like a scratch.

  She needed to find something—anything—to protect herself with. She glanced around and realized she had nothing in the nearly barren cabin.

  Creeping across the floor, she grabbed a bottle of body spray she’d left on the kitchen table. It wasn’t much, but maybe she could douse the intruder’s eyes and buy some time, if that was what it came down to.

  She paused by her suitcase and listened again. There was that sound. Someone was walking across the porch, nestled close to the wall and just out of her vision.

  If she put the window down, the intruder would hear her and know she was inside. But if she left it up, gaining access to the house would be too easy.

  She hunkered against the wall.

  She glanced across the way. Through the open door across the small hallway, she could see Connor asleep in his bed. He didn’t have a clue what was going on. Good. That was the way she wanted it. For now, at least.

  Another footfall sounded. And then a shadow covered the moon that had once flooded into her cabin.

  She bit back a scream and prepared herself to fight.

  FIVE

  John startled from his sleep at the sound of Rusty’s barking. What in the world was going on? Darkness stared at him from his windows. Nighttime had fallen several hours ago.

  If Rusty was barking, something was wrong.

  He threw his legs out of bed, pulled on a sweatshirt and shorts, and rushed to his front door. Rusty was there, his hair standing on end.

  “What is it, Rusty?”

  The dog barked even more feverishly, turning in quick, urgent circles.

  As soon as John opened the door, Rusty jetted outside. He stepped around his porch in time to see a shadowy figure disappear into the trees behind the cabins.

  What in the world? There had been someone out here. They’d come from the direction of his new employee’s cabin.

  Apprehension crept up his spine. He hoped and prayed Samantha and Connor were okay.

  Taking long strides, he hurried toward their cabin. He rapped on the door, trying to tamp down his apprehension. Trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.

  No one answered, and his urgency grew. He pounded on the door again. “Samantha. It’s me. John.”

  The door flew open. Samantha stood there, her eyes as wide as sand dollars and anxiety wrought across her face. She appeared unharmed, though. He thanked God for that.

  “Is everything okay?” His words sounded strained, even to his own ears.

  She squeezed her sweatshirt at the throat and nodded. “I heard something. I thought...”

  “Rusty heard something, too. He chased off whoever was here.”

  “Who...?” She shook her head.

  Her fear looked too familiar, as if the emotions never left the depths of her soul. That was no way to live.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t had any trouble since I’ve been here. Maybe it was just someone curious about the work I’m doing on these cabins.” He kne
w there was far more to it, but he didn’t want to scare her. She was already scared enough.

  “Right.”

  He stepped closer, hesitating, wanting both to pry and to keep his distance. “Is there anything I should know? If I had more details, maybe I could help.”

  Her whole body became rigid. “There’s nothing to know.”

  “That’s right. Those bruises are from an accident.” He kept his voice light but firm. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, but the woman could hide a lot of things...but she couldn’t hide those injuries. In the black and blue, the truth told its side of the story.

  She touched her forehead. Rubbed it. Looked in the distance before looking back at John. “Look, it’s like this. I don’t want to lie to you, but I don’t want to tell you the truth, either.”

  He wanted to reach out and touch her arm, but he restrained himself. “Someone hurt you.”

  She stared at him a moment, swallowing deeply. “Someone wants me dead. I just need a place to lie low for a while. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “I appreciate that, but the less you know the better.”

  He remembered what Nate had told him about the FBI agent who’d stopped by. Was there any truth in the man’s accusation? Was that why Samantha couldn’t tell him any details? Or did she truly just not trust anyone? “If you say so.”

  He took a step toward the door, realizing he wouldn’t get anything else out of her. It was her choice, and he could do nothing about it.

  “John....”

  He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

  Samantha’s eyes brimmed with tears. “If anything happens to me, will you make sure Connor is okay? I just need to know that someone will watch out for him. I know you hardly know us, but maybe you could take him to Nate and Kylie.” Her voice cracked.

  His heart ached at the vulnerability of her words. “Samantha, if you let me help, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you and Connor.” He started to reach out, but his hand dropped to the side.

  She pulled a hair behind her ear. “I wish I could believe that, but I can’t afford to trust someone again. I can’t be let down.”

  “What makes you think I’ll let you down?” Images of Alyssa tried to squeeze into his thoughts. He pushed them back. Not now. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his past failures.

  She pressed her lips together a moment. “Experience.” Her voice didn’t waver. She believed the words.

  “Experience can either hold us back or act as a launching pad for change. At least, that’s what experience has taught me.” He shifted, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll come by in the morning and put new locks on your place, just to make sure you’re safe. I’ll also move up replacing the windows here higher on my list. I’ll get the kind with safety latches so you can still sleep with them open, but with a little more security and peace of mind. It can get pretty hot out here at night.”

  “I appreciate that.” She still clutched the collar of her shirt as though her chest was tight. Her entire body looked tight for that matter, as if the wind gusted she might break.

  “I’ll leave Rusty outside tonight. If anyone comes back, he’ll alert you.” And me, too, John thought to himself. He wanted to know if there was trouble brewing.

  Kylie and Nate had saved him when he was on the brink of losing his career, his friends, his faith. He wasn’t going to let Samantha down. He needed to at least pay it forward.

  “I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

  He stooped down to see her better. “You going to be okay?”

  She nodded, straightening slightly as if to cover up her fear. “Of course. I’ll be fine. At least, Connor slept through all of this. That’s a blessing.”

  “It is. We don’t want him to freak out. Being cautious and on guard is good, though.”

  “Absolutely.” She stared up at him, her eyes wide and as luminous as the moon outside.

  He paused another moment. He didn’t want to leave, and he wasn’t even sure why. But his throat squeezed with pressure, and his feet seemed rooted where they were. Finally, he nodded. “Don’t hesitate to find me, if you need anything.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  He hated to walk away. But he reminded himself that Rusty would be out here. John doubted anyone would return. Not tonight, at least.

  In the morning, he’d talk to the sheriff, see if he could patrol around here more often. In the meantime, he’d keep his eyes peeled.

  He had a feeling he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

  No, he had too many things on his mind. One of those being Samantha Rogers.

  * * *

  The next morning, Samantha knocked on Connor’s door and went inside. “Rise and shine, Sunshine.”

  Her son opened one sleepy eye. “Already?”

  “That’s right. We’ve got another long day.” A long day following a long night, Samantha thought to herself.

  He frowned. “You know what I miss about our old place?”

  Her heart squeezed, a feeling that was all too familiar. “What?”

  “My friends Owen and Mackenzie, and my karate classes.”

  She sat down on the edge of his bed. “I know changes are hard.”

  “At least I have Rusty here.” He threw his covers off and started to get dressed.

  Samantha shuddered as she walked back into the living room and remembered the events from last night. After John had left, she’d put all the windows down. The cabin had grown warm and humid, but she’d pulled the covers up to her chin anyway. She couldn’t stand the thought of being an easy target. Mostly, she couldn’t stand the thought of Connor being an easy target. Not on her watch.

  She’d listened for any more telltale sounds that someone was here again. Once she’d heard the dog’s nails tapping against the porch. She’d heard the wind scattering sand against the wooden planks of the exterior, and Connor’s deep breathing from his room.

  In her mind, she pictured Billy creeping around, waiting for the chance to strike. Then she remembered that Billy always had someone else do his dirty work. The person outside her cabin was essentially faceless.

  But Billy couldn’t have found her yet. No one knew where she was. She’d covered all of her bases. Then who had been on the porch?

  The vandals the sheriff had talked about?

  That was the only thing that made sense.

  Or was that the only thing that she wanted to make sense?

  Finally, she’d drifted off to sleep, only to be confronted by dreams of intruders, carjackers and fists colliding with her face.

  Back in the present, Connor hopped out of his bedroom, trying in vain to put a shoe on while moving. Samantha remembered she had nothing for breakfast. She’d need to walk into town and get some groceries. She didn’t know when John would pay her, so she’d have to stretch her cash out for at least a week.

  “Let’s take a walk,” she told Connor, hoping that possibility might cheer him up.

  He frowned as he pulled his shoe on, but at least he didn’t argue.

  It was bright and early as she and Connor stepped outside. Her watch confirmed that it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Hopefully they could make it to the store and then get back in time to work.

  She cast a glance at John’s cabin. He was probably sleeping. He deserved to after that late-night interruption. The concern on his face yesterday had nearly broken her. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone concerned about her well-being. If she was honest, it felt nice to feel looked after.

  Waves rolled onto the shore, seagulls circled the sky, and boats floated in the distance. Everything appeared normal with no indication of what had happened last night. It was funny how life worked that way sometimes.

 
As soon as they started down the path to the store, Rusty appeared beside them. Connor’s face lit up. “Hey, Rusty boy. You going to come to the store with us?”

  The dog panted happily and kept walking.

  Samantha enjoyed hearing her son talk to the dog. At the moment, he seemed happy and satisfied. He deserved a little contentment in his life. Samantha hoped that he might find it here, that he wouldn’t resent her for yet another move.

  The morning sunlight already beat down on them, but a nice breeze off the water interrupted the heat wave. It’s too bad she wasn’t on this island for different reasons. She might actually enjoy it here.

  Smuggler’s Cove was so off the beaten path; it was like the place that time had left behind. The island was a novelty within itself. No cars. Everything seemed slower and more enjoyable.

  They reached the end of the lane. A row of houses stretched in front of them and in the distance she could see the town. That was where the docks, the wharf and the six or seven shops that comprised the “town” area of Smuggler’s Cove were located.

  Around her, the island was coming to life. A woman rode past on a bicycle and called hello. The golf cart taxi she’d taken yesterday drove past, Alvin offering a wave. She could see people moving down at the docks, getting ready for another day of fishing and making tourists feel at home.

  “Rusty’s the best part about this place,” Connor muttered, patting Rusty’s head.

  Samantha smiled. “You think? How about the beach?”

  “I guess I could get used to it.” He skipped backward, patting his legs so Rusty would follow.

  “You used to always beg me to take you to the beach, you know. When you were a toddler, you loved it there.”

  “I loved it because Dad loved it. It’s not the same now.” His gait slowed. Samantha remembered how hard Connor had taken it when his father had died.