She wanted to take her son into her arms and tell him that everything would be okay. But he was eight now. He wasn’t into public displays of affection. And she doubted anything she could tell him would make him feel better. She would try anyway.
“He’d be really proud of you, you know.” She tried to honor her husband’s memory. Her son deserved to think his father was amazing. Every boy should think of his father as a superhero. He had plenty of time to learn the truth when he was older.
He scuffed the ground with his foot. “Yeah.”
“I mean it, Connor. Your father always loved you.” Even if he had secretly been a criminal. The thought turned her stomach. Had Anthony known that Billy would plant evidence to implicate her? That he set it up so she would take the fall?
Her decision to run caused her stomach to clench every day. It may not have been the best thing to do, but in her haste to protect her son, instinct had kicked in. She couldn’t protect Connor if she was in jail. Anthony’s cronies could have gone after her son, for that matter. And considering Billy was a dirty cop, she had no faith in the justice system.
Officer Billy Walsh had been one of those overly friendly guys who could win people’s trusts in a heartbeat. He was good-looking with golden hair, blue eyes, and a quick smile. He knew how to say just what people wanted to hear so that he could get what he wanted. Samantha only wished she’d seen through him sooner. Her husband had trusted him; she’d trusted him. The man was like poison, though. One of those wolves in sheep’s clothing that the Bible talked about.
“Beautiful day,” someone called behind her.
Her heart leapt all the way into her throat. She glanced behind her, her shoulders achy again, and saw a man with wire-framed glasses, a golf shirt and khaki pants.
Keep calm. Don’t raise suspicions. She forced a smile instead. “It is beautiful out here.”
He double-timed a couple of steps and caught up with her. The man appeared to be in his late twenties. From his pale skin, she’d guess he wasn’t from the island. His gaze was way too curious for her comfort. “You must not be a local. I don’t hear the accent.”
She had no desire to share too much with this man. But she couldn’t afford to be rude, either. She needed to keep a low profile. “No, I’m definitely not a local.”
“Fascinating place, isn’t it? This Smuggler’s Cove has such a unique culture and people, a real gem.”
She nodded, wishing she could think of a way to gracefully end this walk together. But she had to get to the store and back. She didn’t have time for any detours. “Definitely. I guess you’re not a local, either.”
“No, I’m with a travel magazine. I’m staying for a couple of weeks so I can write an in-depth article on the island. Sounds cushy, huh? It’s my first big assignment. I come from the financial world. I wrote for accounting publications for years. I’m finally getting to do my dream job.”
“Good for you,” she managed.
The store was just a few blocks away now. She desperately wanted to reach it and be done with this conversation. Perspiration had started to sprinkle across her forehead.
This whole walking everywhere thing was strange. At least in a car she had a certain measure of privacy. Here, everyone seemed to have time for a stroll and a chat.
“I’m Derek, by the way.”
“I’m Sam,” she responded. Connor and Rusty trotted gleefully ahead. It was better that way. She only hoped John didn’t get mad that Rusty had come with them. It wasn’t as if they’d invited the dog along. He’d just kind of followed.
“Samantha!” someone bellowed behind her.
She froze. Who would know her in Smuggler’s Cove? And then she slowly turned.
SIX
It was John, Samantha realized. Just John.
He jogged toward her. Seeing him filled her with a certain amount of relief. She seemed to instantly trust the man. Things usually didn’t end well when she trusted that easily.
She forced another smile and waved as she waited for him to catch up. He immediately extended his hand to Derek and introduced himself. Derek didn’t seem the least bit ruffled by John’s tall, broad form. He affably offered his hand and chatted.
John cast a glance at Samantha as Derek launched into his same speech, and she felt as if she could read John’s thoughts. They seemed to scream, What are you doing?
Finally, Derek turned toward the docks. “I’m taking a tour of the Chesapeake Bay today. Should be a good day for a boat ride.” He paused and waved. “Pleasure to meet you both.”
They said goodbye and then stood there for a minute, staring after him as he walked away. When he was out of earshot, Samantha turned to John, a burning question on her mind.
“He’s a travel writer yet you didn’t tell him about your cabins. Why?” Samantha asked.
John shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s a stranger. I don’t trust strangers easily. Until I know who was snooping outside the cabins last night, I thought it would be best to keep some details to myself.”
Samantha nodded, liking John more and more as time went on. “Sounds smart.”
They continued walking toward town. The sand sprinkled across her tennis shoes. A bicyclist rode past and waved. Two teens carried a canoe over their heads, laughing at something.
“Where are you taking off to so early this morning?” John asked.
“I needed to pick up some supplies. We didn’t discuss what time I was starting this morning, but I thought if I was back by nine, that would be okay. I needed some breakfast if I was going to be worth anything today.”
“Most important meal of the day.” He nodded ahead to where Rusty chased Connor playfully. “It looks as though their friendship is continuing to grow.”
Samantha glanced at Connor as he ran in circles, Rusty chasing him. “Looks like a match made in heaven.”
“I just wanted to let you know that we’re going to work on your place today. We’ll have your cabin in order so you can have more of a home there, with a fully functioning kitchen and everything.”
“Thanks. That’s very generous.” She liked the idea of having a home. Something about it warmed her. She couldn’t get attached to that idea, though. It would only make her weak.
His smile faded. “No more problems last night?”
She shook her head. “No. I do appreciate you checking on us, though.”
“Any friend of Kylie’s is a friend of mine.”
Samantha shrugged and kept walking. “To say we were friends would be stretching it. I did enjoy talking to her when I had to opportunity, though. She seems genuine.”
“She is. Her husband and I have been best friends for years.” Early morning sunlight hit him. He needed to shave, but the stubble across his cheeks and chin only made him look more rugged and manly. His features were solid, making him appear like a rock inside and out.
Anthony’s eyes had always sparkled with new adventures and possibilities. He’d gone wherever the wind had tossed him, always thinking something better was just over the horizon. Samantha’s mind returned to the present. John had said something about Nate and Kylie. “That’s great that you’re such good friends. It’s just too bad you’re so far from them now.”
“Only a boat ride away. Besides, they’re supposed to come over next week and check things out.”
Samantha nodded. It would be good to see Kylie again. “When’s your goal date to open the cabins?”
“I would love to be finished before August.”
“That’s a lot of work.” The cabins were charming, but time had weathered the buildings. John had a real task ahead of him.
“I have another friend who might be coming out to help.”
“A friend? That sounds nice.” She wished she were just asking out of curiosity. Nearly everything in
her life was done out of fear, though.
“I knew him from the coast guard. He got out early and is looking for some work. He also has a friend he’s talking about bringing with him.”
She pushed down her panic. Their arrival shouldn’t scare her. Unfortunately, everything seemed to scare her lately.
She decided to change the subject to something safer. “You miss the training center yet? Life back in Yorktown?”
When his face darkened, she had second thoughts about asking. “It’s hard to say,” John started. “I have a lot of bad memories there. The change here is good.”
John seemed, by all appearances, to have it all together. But there was something he was hiding, some hurt in his past. The nurturing side of Samantha wanted to dig in, to uncover his hurts and try to fix them. The pragmatic side of her cautioned that she should stay back.
They reached the store and John opened the door for her. As she squeezed past him to go inside, their arms brushed. Electricity buzzed through her.
Those words of caution echoed in her mind. Stay back.
She needed to listen to that rational side and keep her distance.
But it was going to be harder than it sounded.
* * *
The work this morning had gone by relatively quickly. The first thing John had done was replace Samantha’s locks, just as he’d promised. He’d ordered some new windows for all the cabins. That hadn’t been at the top of his priority list, but now he saw the importance of doing so. It would take a few days for them to come in, though.
He’d have to keep an eye on everything in the meantime.
Samantha had been a quiet worker. She’d scrubbed floors, helped clear some of the junk out of the houses and opened all the windows to air out the structures.
Connor had helped some. When he’d gotten bored, he’d run around and played with Rusty. He’d overheard Samantha telling him earlier that they could go to the beach this evening, if he behaved.
She approached him now, a smudge of dirt across her face. A few tendrils of hair escaped from her ponytail. She had rubber gloves on her hands and smelled faintly of Pine-Sol.
And, for some reason, his pulse raced for a moment. He scolded himself for the reaction and tried to look casual as she got closer. The last thing he wanted to think about was a pretty woman.
Using the back of her hand, Samantha wiped some hair from her eyes as she stopped in front of him. “The floorboards are rotting in one of the cabins. And it looks as though there’s a leak in the roof.”
He paused from repairing the porch. “I thought that might be the case. I’ll move on to that one next.”
These cabins were going to be more work than he’d imagined. The only relief from it, and the hot summer sun, would be the nice breeze coming from the water. Like it was today. Still, he loved digging in and getting his hands dirty. He could do this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone coming down the lane.
Sheriff Davis.
John stood and stretched, his muscles taut from hunching over the railing. Just as he waved hello, he saw Samantha take a step back.
“I’m going to... I’m going to keep working,” she stuttered.
Her face had gone pale, her voice trembled, and her hands shook. He thought about the FBI agent who’d shown up at Nate and Kylie’s place. Should he mention that visit to Samantha?
Before John could make a decision, she hurried back to the cabin from where she’d come.
Interesting. Why would she react like that? Certainly the woman wasn’t some kind of fugitive. He didn’t get those vibes from her. So why did she look so scared at the sheriff’s approach?
“How’s it going, John?” Davis stopped in front of him, his hands hooked on his belt.
“Not too bad—except for the fact that we had an intruder last night.”
Sheriff Davis’s eyes widened. “An intruder? Did you see his face?”
John shook his head. “Rusty chased him off. He was dressed in black, plus it was dark out here.”
The sheriff nodded. “It’s especially dark out here, away from everything. In case you haven’t noticed.”
“It’s hard not to.” The solitude and removal from the busyness of city life was one of the many reasons he loved it here.
“I’ll keep my eyes open and ask around. If it happens again, call me.”
“I appreciate that.”
The sheriff’s gaze traveled across the property to where Samantha pulled a kitchen table out from Cabin 3 and began sanding it down. “How’s your new employee working out?”
John rubbed his chin before nodding. “Just fine.”
“Know anything about her?”
John shifted, unsure why the sheriff was being so inquisitive. “My friends back home know her and trust her. That’s enough for me.”
“I just like to have a general idea about our long-term visitors.”
That was just the opening John needed.
“Speaking of long-term visitors, have you met that reporter guy yet?” John pulled on his work gloves, knowing he needed to get busy soon.
“Sure. What’s his name again? Derek?”
“That sounds right.”
“I met him. Seems like a sincere guy. He’s been interviewing people all over the island. Seems eager to impress his editor.” The sheriff shifted. “Why? Something I should know?”
John shook his head and grabbed a hammer. “No, nothing. I guess I’m just as suspicious of strangers as the next person.”
“I’ll patrol past here more frequently, just in case someone comes back. If anything else happens, let me know.”
John grabbed a box of nails, not ready to end this conversation. “Who on the island might be wanting to cause trouble?”
Sheriff Davis looked into the distance for a moment. “Of course we have a couple of guys who could be more responsible citizens. My guess is that whoever is behind this isn’t from this island.”
“Any idea why someone would come to these cabins?” John followed his gaze and saw two sailboats breezing by in the distance.
“Could be any number of things. Maybe they’re used to them being deserted and used to squat here. Or maybe it’s not about the cabins at all.”
John glanced over at the cabin. Samantha brought a chair out and opened a can of paint. She was doing exactly what he’d asked her to do and being a model employee. A sense of mystery still surrounded her, though.
“I’ll keep my eye on things.” John looked away from Samantha, hoping she had nothing to do with any of this.
* * *
As Samantha continued to scrape old paint from the table of another cabin, she tried not to glance back at the sheriff, tried not to show her discomfort. Her awkwardness was probably hard to miss, though.
She shouldn’t have scurried off like she did. Her guise of having a lot of work to get done was true, but her hasty departure might raise questions. She had to be more careful.
John and the sheriff glanced her way. She forced a smile and a wave. Why were they looking at her? Was the sheriff telling John about her past? Would Sheriff Davis charge over here and arrest her any moment now?
Anxiety gripped her until her breathing became labored. What should she do? Run?
But how would she get Connor in time? Plus, she needed her things. There was no way she’d get off this island without any cash to her name. She might as well be on Alcatraz Island.
Calm down, Samantha. Calm down. It’s probably nothing. They’re just shooting the breeze.
She continued to scrape, but her mind was anywhere but on the task at hand.
Finally, the sheriff took a step her way. Fight or flight kicked in. She wanted desperately to run, to get out of here. But she needed to think more cle
arly. Until she knew more, she had to act unruffled.
The sheriff nodded her way and kept walking, all the way to the lane leading into town. When he disappeared out of sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had to stay under the radar. She’d work, keep to herself, and keep Connor safe. That was her prayer, day after day.
But how long could she continue to live like this? She was tired. Worry and anxiety could do that to a person. The emotions could rob them of sleep and rest and peace.
Samantha often wondered if she should have stayed in Texas. If she should have pled her case. If she should have hoped for the best instead of assuming the worst.
If she wasn’t a criminal before the charges against her were raised, she was now. She’d run from the law—fled before they’d had a chance to find her guilty.
But she’d seen it in their eyes. The police already thought she was a criminal.
In one way, Billy’s plan had worked. She’d fled before turning over the information that would get him locked up. On the other hand, Billy wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Her dilemma came in that turning over the information would put her at risk. Most likely, they’d take her into custody first and ask questions later. She’d gotten herself into a real mess and there were no clear solutions.
She felt sure that coming here was a good idea. Certainly none of the locals were a part of the group of men after her. That would be too coincidental. But she’d keep her eyes open for strangers who may have followed her.
She’d keep her eye on the sheriff, too. Samantha would look for any indication that he’d checked into her background. At the first sign of trouble, she’d run. And she’d keep running for as long as she had to, doing whatever it took to keep her son safe.
* * *
By the time Samantha fell into bed that evening, she was bone tired. Connor wouldn’t admit it, but he was, too. He’d fallen right asleep. It was probably a mix of the heat and running around all day. After she’d finished working, they’d gone to the beach and he’d bodyboarded and jumped over waves and searched for seashells.
She’d been well aware that John was in the background, watching them.
Desperate Measures Page 6
