Samantha took in the dockworkers’ meaty arms, thick necks, rough dispositions. One had to be strong to do that job.
Then she remembered the man with the snake tattoo who’d attacked her in the parking lot. It would be easy for him to blend in here. Had she somehow unwittingly walked into a trap? Maybe not a trap, but had she walked right into the hands of the bad guys and been unaware?
Just then she spotted the reporter milling around the docks. He stopped by Kent and they leaned toward each other, as if conspiring. Something about seeing them together caused her spine to pinch.
Just a reporter, she reminded herself. A reporter and a real estate agent.
Trusting people could be so hard, though.
A moment later, warm, creamy soup was set in front of her. She inhaled the scent of crabmeat and seafood seasoning. Her mouth began to water.
“Smells great,” she muttered.
John lifted up a quick prayer and then everyone dug in. There was something that felt way too familiar and comfortable about eating here with John. She couldn’t get used to this, though. She was surprised at the fact that she would like to get used to this.
Maybe she was longing to settle down again, just like Connor. She’d never admitted it, but perhaps all of this moving and being afraid of putting down roots again had affected her much more than she thought.
As they ate, Connor chatted on and on about fishing and learning to bodyboard and looking for sand dollars on the shore. Samantha let him talk, grateful that she didn’t have to carry the conversation. For a moment, and just a moment, she blended in and felt as if she was at home.
“Samantha? Is that you?”
She swung her gaze upward at the new voice. Her eyes widened when she spotted a familiar face there. A face she hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Sarah Stewart?”
If Samantha had thought a little faster, she might have denied who she was, said she was someone who had “twins” everywhere. But she hadn’t. Now she was eye to eye with one of her old friends from Texas.
Anxiety curled around her lungs and squeezed all the air out.
“I hardly recognized you!” Sarah had always been outgoing and enthusiastic. She obviously hadn’t changed. She spoke loudly enough that it seemed as if everyone in the restaurant turned to listen. “Your hair looks so different, but I like it lighter and longer. It’s been forever!”
Samantha’s throat burned, and she prayed that people would stop listening. The last thing she wanted was to bring attention to herself. “It has been.”
Sarah’s gaze scanned the table and stopped at her son. She gasped, no doubt for the dramatic effect. “Connor has gotten so big. Where has all the time gone? How long has it been? Four years?”
Samantha nodded. “Probably.”
Sarah turned toward John. “And who is this?”
Samantha’s face burned. She heard the implications in Sarah’s voice. She obviously thought that she and John were together. Nothing was further from the truth. “This is my boss.”
John stood and extended his hand. “I’m John.”
Sarah’s face lit up with pleasure. “Great to meet you, John.”
“I’m restoring the old fishing cabins on the eastern side of the island,” he explained.
“Oh, of course! I heard about that. It’s about time someone saw those cabins for what they’re worth. I wish you the best with that project.” Sarah turned back to Samantha. “What brings you here, old friend? The last thing I expected was to run into someone from Texas here on Smuggler’s Cove. To say we’re off the beaten path is an exaggeration. There is no beaten path leading here.” She laughed at her own joke.
“I just needed a change of pace,” Samantha managed to get out. “I always remembered you talking about growing up here. But I didn’t realize you’d moved back. I thought you were in New Jersey.”
“We were, and I hated it there. It was just too fast-paced for my taste, you know? So Justin is still working up there, but I moved back to my parents’ old place here just about a year ago. I missed island life. Justin comes home on weekends.”
Didn’t Sarah know about the pending murder charges against Samantha? If so, why wasn’t she acting more suspicious? Of course, she’d left long before everything happened. Certainly she kept up with people down in Texas, though. She had to have heard that Anthony died, that Samantha had been accused of the crime.
“Hard to believe the news about Ted and Stan, huh?” Sarah leaned against the table, in no hurry to leave.
Ted and Stan were the other two men involved in the embezzling scheme.
Samantha tensed again. Had they been arrested? Had they jumped on board with Billy and claimed Samantha was guilty? Familiar apprehension threatened to take over Samantha’s body, but somehow she held the emotion at bay.
She shoved her soup away, her appetite gone. “No, I haven’t talked to them in forever. What’s going on?”
“Ted had a heart attack and died. Three weeks later, Stan was skiing in Colorado and broke his neck. Killed instantly. Isn’t that crazy? Not to mention Anthony...” She shook her head. “Truth is stranger than fiction. Isn’t that the saying?”
Samantha could hardly breath. Ted and Stan were dead too? That had to mean Billy covered it up. Samantha knew the truth. Billy had killed them to keep them silent.
Maybe they’d threatened to go forward with the whole story. Maybe Billy hadn’t trusted them to keep their mouths shut. She had no idea. She only knew that the fight for her life had just been stepped up another notch.
Sarah leaned closer and stared at Samantha. “You look as pale as a ghost. I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just can’t believe it. Charity told me about it. She’s about the only one from down there I’ve kept up with.”
Samantha waited to see the accusation in her eyes, but there was none. Why? Something wasn’t making sense here, and Samantha couldn’t pinpoint what.
Sarah finally stood and flashed one of her grins. “We need to get together sometime and catch up. Maybe I’ll swing by the cabins. I’m so glad to hear that someone is fixing them up. This island is too pretty for an eyesore like that.”
“I agree. It’s beautiful here, just like you always said it was.” Samantha forced a smile.
“I’ll swing by and we can set up dinner at my place. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect.” Samantha offered a tight nod.
“I’ll see you around then!”
As soon as she walked away, Samantha exchanged a glance with John. Concern saturated his gaze. Two more people connected with the scandal were dead. Plus, there was Lisa. The body count continued to add up.
Billy didn’t want anything to get in the way of his money.
Samantha had the strange urge to hash things out with John. But she couldn’t talk about it now. Not with Connor here and attentive.
Her thoughts shot ahead of her plans again. She should run. What if Sarah told someone back in Texas that she was here?
It probably didn’t matter. Someone seemed to already know she was.
Her hands began trembling so badly that she could hardly finish her soup. She forced a smile, desperate not to make Connor anxious, desperate to appear normal.
She glanced outside at the boats. All she wanted to do was jump into one and sail out of this town. Even better, to sail away from her troubles.
If only it were that easy.
TEN
John finished the rest of his food and wiped his mouth with the thick paper napkin. He saw the tension across Samantha’s face and wished he could do something to make her feel better. Of course, there was little he could do at the moment. He didn’t know who Ted or Stan were, but he’d bet they were connected with her husband.
If that were the case, the impen
ding storm was just getting worse and worse.
Thankfully, Rich, John’s coast guard friend, would be here soon. In fact, he hoped to pick him and his friend up after Samantha and Connor finished lunch here at Erma’s. They could all walk back to the cabins and he’d have extra sets of eyes on the place. It was the most he could hope for at the moment.
“Your friend seemed nice,” John muttered, desperate to break the silence.
Samantha’s expression looked strained. He could only imagine what was going on in her head right now. “Small world, isn’t it?”
What a strange coincidence that Samantha knew someone here on Smuggler’s Cove. He could see her instinct to flee kick in. He could see the panic building in her.
He didn’t know Sarah. He was still a relative outsider here. He only knew the people who he’d encountered through his work. But he knew enough to know that the stakes were just raised...again.
Just then his cell phone rang. He recognized Kylie’s number. “Excuse me a moment?”
Samantha nodded.
He hit Talk just as he stepped outside and away from any listening ears. He stood where he had a good view of the docks, of anyone coming or going.
“Hey, Kylie. Thanks for giving me a ring.”
“What’s going on?” Kylie asked.
He moved to the side as a group of tourists flooded into the restaurant. “Listen, Nate told me that an FBI agent stopped by looking for Samantha.”
“That’s right,” Kylie confirmed.
“Do you remember his name?”
“Not off the top of my head, but he wrote it down for me, along with a phone number. He said he was out of business cards. Let me grab the paper. It’s right on my desk.”
Out of business cards? Convenient.
John glanced back at Samantha, satisfied that she was still safe inside. Connor munched away on his French fries, while Samantha stared out the window.
A moment later, Kylie’s voice came back over the phone line. “Found it. Let’s see. His name was Special Agent Walsh.”
John sucked in a breath. “Walsh, you said? Did he seem legit?”
“I didn’t examine his badge or anything. I probably wouldn’t even know if it was legit if I looked at it, truth be told. He came again yesterday.”
More alarm raced through him. “Yesterday?”
If John’s gut was right, Billy Walsh was pretending to be that FBI agent. But, if that was the case, Billy couldn’t be the person who’d attacked Samantha here. The only reason Billy would have paid another visit to Kylie was if he was still looking for Samantha and trying to figure out her location.
But if it wasn’t Billy or one of his hired hands who’d beat up Samantha—if they were still unsure of her location—then who was responsible?
“What’s going on, John?”
“I can’t tell you now, Kylie. You know I would if I could.”
“I know. There’s just that honorable quality you have of being trustworthy and having integrity.”
How could Kylie still think that? She knew about what’d happened with Alyssa. An honorable man wouldn’t have gone out of town, not when there was even a remote possibility of his spouse being tracked down by a madman.
“You’re the only one who blames you,” Kylie said softly, as if reading his thoughts.
He cleared his throat, not wanting to talk about this. Instead, he kept the focus on Kylie and Nate. “Look, as much as I want you and Nate to come, I’m not sure this is the best time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We want to get over there and see what you’re up to.”
He hesitated a moment. “I don’t know how safe it is, Kylie.”
Plus, he didn’t want to lead these guys right to Samantha.
She paused. “Okay, now you’re starting to scare me a little.”
He scanned the area around him, looking for a sign of trouble. Nothing set off any internal alarms.
“I’m not trying to do that. But there are some things going on here right now.” He glanced back and saw Samantha and Connor standing from the table. “Listen, I’ve got to go. If anything else happens, will you let me know?”
“Of course.”
They hung up, and John met Samantha and Connor at the door.
“Ready to get going?” he asked. He put on his most cheerful expression.
Samantha nodded, but her gaze made it obvious that she wasn’t sure about anything at the moment.
He paid, and they stepped outside. He needed a moment alone to speak with her, a moment when Connor wasn’t listening.
But just then, he spotted Rich in the distance, walking beside another man and waved them over. The conversation would have to wait until later.
The men heaved their duffel bags up higher on their shoulders and started toward him. John leaned in closer to Samantha, close enough that he could smell her flowery perfume.
“Stay,” he whispered.
She looked up, obviously startled, and said nothing.
“Don’t run,” he explained. “That’s what you’re thinking about, isn’t it?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’m thinking about my son.” She glanced over at Connor who was using the curb as a balance beam several feet away.
“These guys can help.” He nodded toward his friends.
“It doesn’t sound like anyone can help.”
“You going to run for the rest of your life?” They’d had this conversation before, but it seemed as if it were a good time to revisit it.
“It beats dying.” Her voice sounded hoarse, strained.
“They’ll catch you eventually. You might as well be prepared when they come. It’s time to stop living in fear.” Advice he should take himself, but he didn’t have time for the introspection at the moment.
Finally, Samantha nodded and met his gaze. “I’d love to stop living in fear.”
His friend reached them, then. “This is my friend, Larry,” Rich started. “I hope you don’t mind that he came with me. I figured you could use some more help.”
John could use a hand, but having a stranger on his property wasn’t ideal. Still, if he was a friend of Rich’s, he was probably trustworthy.
As introductions went around, John kept one eye on everyone else in the area, making sure no one suspicious was watching from the distance.
That’s when he saw that reporter. He’d stopped talking to one of the dockworkers, and continually glanced up at them. When he spotted John, he quickly looked away. What was that reporter hiding? John felt certain there was more to his story than he was letting on. He’d keep an eye on him.
For now, he had to get back to the cabins. There was a lot of work to be done.
On more than one front.
* * *
Samantha was working diligently on cleaning all the walls, trying to take her mind off everything. The deaths of Ted and Stan. Anthony’s death. Anthony’s betrayal. The logic of staying here instead of running.
She was getting another cabin ready to stay in tonight. The plan was for her and Connor to move to a new cabin, while one of John’s friends stayed in her old one. That way, if the stranger came back again, he’d be surprised to find someone else there. Someone else who was more equipped to defend himself. In order for the plan to work, they had to work quickly to clean out another cabin and make it livable. If they took too long, their plan might become obvious to anyone who happened to wander past.
This cabin was a little shabbier, but if she aired it out, and washed all of the sheets and other linens, it could be livable.
The new windows had arrived early and were sitting outside John’s cabin when they’d all gotten back. John and his coast guard buddies were putting them up in this cabin now.
Samantha w
as grateful to work, more than happy to have some time alone to think. She continued to scrub and paint and scrape. Connor, in the meantime, was running around outside with Rusty. Voices carried in from outside.
“Rich, go head over to Cabin 4 and start on the windows there,” John said.
“You got it,” Rich said.
John’s friends seemed decent enough. Rich was in his mid-thirties. He had blond hair, cut close to the scalp, and a stout build. Larry was Rich’s friend. The man was short and thin with dark hair that was sparse on top but thick on the sides. Rich was the talkative one, and Larry seemed more quiet and brooding.
Samantha was glad they were here. They’d help the work go by faster.
Of course, if the work went by too fast, that could mean she’d be out of a job and would be looking for a new place to call home. She’d have to cross that bridge when she reached it.
John knocked at the door before stepping inside. “It would look suspicious if all of the other cabins had new windows and your old cabin didn’t. We don’t want to send up any red flags.”
She leaned back on her heels, taking a break from scrubbing the walls. “Smart thinking. They teach you how to do stuff like this in the coast guard?”
He smiled down at her before fiddling with a loose light socket above the dining room table. “They taught me how to apprehend drug smugglers. Does that count?”
“Maybe.” She spotted another blemish on the wall and rubbed it with her cloth. “Nothing in life could prepare me for all of this.”
“All things considered, I think you’re doing pretty well.”
It was strange how the words made her heart do a little flip. Since this whole mess, no one had come close to complimenting her on the way she’d handled things—mostly because they didn’t know anything about her past, she supposed. But whenever she thought about the situation she was in, all she felt like was a failure.
“Did I say something wrong?” John asked.
She shook her head, pausing again. “No, not at all. I was just thinking how words have such a healing power. I wake up every day feeling as if I’ve made a mess of things, wondering what I could have done differently, wondering why I didn’t see what Anthony and his friends were up to before I did.”
Desperate Measures Page 10
