by Debby Giusti
“Keep moving,” Matt said, his eyes probing the shadowed corners of the room, behind the double sofas and the Queen Anne chairs.
The master bedroom. Adjoining bath with the largest tub he had ever seen. Walk-in closet.
Everything in place, neat as a pin. No sign of forced entry or other presence. Three guest bedrooms, two baths. A small office, undisturbed.
The tension in his neck eased as he let out a deep breath. “Looks like you two are the only ones I have to worry about tonight.”
The woman whirled around to face him. A streak of moonlight fell upon her face. She was pretty, or would be if her lips weren’t drawn tight with resolve. Right now, she looked like a mare ready to trample anyone or anything that ventured too near her newborn colt.
“Calm down, lady,” Matt said. “No use getting riled up.”
“Look, Mister—”
“Matt,” he reminded her. “Matt Lawson.”
“I don’t appreciate Sanctuary Island’s welcoming committee.”
Spunky, he’d give her that much. “Just doing my job.”
The woman’s anger dissipated ever so slightly. “Katherine is my husband’s aunt.”
Family? “Any way you can prove that? Photos maybe?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where they’d be. Katherine moved here about eight months ago. We’ve never visited before.”
We? “You and your husband?”
She shook her head. “He…” She cleared her throat, pursed her lips, then swallowed. When she spoke, the words came out a whisper.
“My husband died a few months ago.”
Not what he expected. He looked at the boy. Either the kid was Academy Award material or the story was legit.
“How’d you get past the gate guard?” Matt asked.
She hesitated as if the question had caught her by surprise. “I didn’t see a gate.”
“At the turnoff from the Bay Road?”
She shook her head. “The storm…it was raining.”
“There’s only one way in.” Who had gate duty tonight? He tried to think. Sam Snyder. Of all the luck. Sam should have retired years ago. The old guy had probably fallen asleep in the guardhouse. But why had he left the gate open?
Once again, Matt yanked the radio off his belt, punched in a number and put the receiver to his ear. “Eunice, contact Jason. See if he can run by the guardhouse, check on Sam. And look up Ms. O’Connor’s paperwork. As I recall, she went to Ireland to help her sister-in-law.”
He glanced out the window while Eunice searched for the file.
“Here it is, Chief. Orlando to Dublin. Nonstop.” The dispatcher told him the arrival time.
“Any mention of a houseguest?”
“Not a word.”
“Contact the airport in Dublin. Leave instructions for her to call me ASAP.”
“Will do.”
He parked the radio back on his belt. Lydia Sloan’s story was probably legit, but Matt needed confirmation from Ms. O’Connor before he allowed the woman and her son access to the home.
Too bad Ms. O’Connor hadn’t noted the arrival of guests on the paperwork. Would have made it so much easier.
“Okay, ma’am. We’ll go over to my office and wait till we hear from Ms. O’Connor.”
She bit her lip, blinked and looked like a scared rabbit in a trap. “I…I don’t understand why that’s necessary.”
“Yes, ma’am. I hear you. But it’s policy here on the island.” He stretched out a hand. “Now, if you’ll pass me the key, we’ll lock this place up tight as a drum so no one else decides to visit.”
“It’s late.” She looked at her son, then back at Matt. “We’ve been on the road for a long time. It’s past his bedtime.”
He nodded. “I understand. But we’ll head to my office, in spite of the hour. Wait for that phone call.”
The woman stooped down to the boy’s level. She tried to smile, made her voice sound almost lighthearted. “Okay, Tyler, we have to go with the security man.”
“Can I get my Action-Pac?”
She glanced up at Matt. “It’s a computerized game. It should be in the front seat of my SUV.”
Matt nodded. “That’ll be all right.”
He locked the door as they left and tried it once to ensure it held tight. Moonlight cascaded down the driveway. Maybe the storm had finally passed.
Tyler climbed into the SUV and retrieved a small electronic toy.
“Bring something to read,” Lydia said. “We may have to wait awhile.”
A school backpack lay on the seat. Tyler rummaged through it, then pulled out a book.
Matt watched the boy.
Other than the schoolbag, the car sat empty.
Why would a woman and her son, who claimed to be houseguests, arrive late at night with only the clothes on their backs?
Matt shook his head. It was going to be a long night.
Lydia sat next to Tyler in the front seat of the security chief’s pickup. The road stretched before them dark and desolate. The truck’s headlights cut a path through the night, exposing a roadway strewn with twigs and branches the storm had ripped from the tall pine trees.
Maybe coming to Sanctuary had been a mistake. She’d made too many already. Sonny, their marriage, believing God could turn bad times good….
Nothing had worked out the way she planned. She was too naive. Stupid, Sonny would have called it. But the fact was, she had trusted her husband. And she’d been hurt because of it. Worse than that, Tyler had been hurt.
Seeing her son’s pain was a hundred times worse than enduring it herself. No child should have to worry about someone grabbing him in the school parking lot or whether his mother would be the next to die.
She wrapped her arm around her son, pulled him close, then allowed herself to glance at the security man. The glow from the dashboard lights played across his long legs and muscular body.
She hoped to find a bit of softness in his angular face, but all she saw was determination. The guy was one hundred percent business with deep-set eyes that bore into her like a hot poker whenever he looked her way.
As if aware of her perusal, he turned his head toward her. “You okay?”
His voice rang warm with concern. His eyes seemed softer this time. Or maybe she imagined the change.
“I can turn on a little heat if you’re cold,” he said.
She shook her head and found her voice. “I’m fine.”
He studied her for a heartbeat, then returned his attention to the road.
Thick vegetation bordered the pavement. If Katherine had neighbors, Lydia would be hard-pressed to find them. “It’s so isolated here,” she said, then wished she hadn’t given voice to the thought.
“Private’s the word we prefer. Five-acre lots with plenty of green space. Walk along the beach and you’ll see the homes, each one an architect’s delight.”
She thought about the drive from Atlanta, the final stretch along the narrow two-lane roads. “But so far from civilization.”
“That’s the attraction. Folks here like their anonymity. No one bothers them this far off the beaten path. There’s a little town on the mainland about thirty minutes west of here. It’s got a few shops and restaurants.”
“Sounds like a metropolis.” She almost laughed. “How’d you end up in Sanctuary?”
Why had she asked that question? She didn’t want to get personal.
He tilted his head and glanced out the driver’s window. “Kind of fell into it,” was all he volunteered.
Ten minutes later, they walked into his office. A large, mahogany desk took up the major portion of the room. A bookcase stood behind the leather swivel chair, open Bible on the shelf.
The chief appeared to be neat, organized, perhaps a bit on the obsessive-compulsive side with everything in its place, corners squared, not even a speck of dust. A photo of a young boy, a year or two older than Tyler, hung on the wall next to a row of plaques and commendation awards.
Matt motioned for them to sit on the couch in the corner of the room. He settled into the desk chair and pulled a tablet and pen from a drawer, then turned to face them.
“You’ve got a Fulton County license plate. Still living in Atlanta?”
She nodded.
“Address?”
“Am I being interrogated?” She tried to sound assertive, hoping he didn’t recognize the nervous edge to her voice. “Katherine will confirm that Tyler and I are invited guests.”
He stared back at her for a moment, glanced at Tyler sitting next to her, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll wait till she calls.”
“Thank you.”
“Well…” He looked around the office. “I think I’ll catch up on some paperwork.”
Tyler turned on his Action-Pac and flicked his fingers over the buttons that moved the animated figures across the screen.
“Why don’t I read you a story?” Lydia asked.
“Ah, Mom. I’m almost finished with this A.P. game disc.”
The security chief booted up his computer. “That the new Action-Pac line?”
Tyler nodded.
“Friend of mine says it’s the hottest stuff on the market. Vic calls himself a techno junkie with an A.P. addiction.” Matt shook his head and chuckled. “T-shirts, coffee mugs, screen savers. Anything made with the A.P. logo and he’s got it.”
“Cool. My dad bought me my Action-Pac.” Tyler’s voice was filled with pride.
Sonny had never been one to buy expensive gifts, but he’d given the game to Tyler the night he died. Since then, her son hadn’t let it out of his sight.
As the security chief began to type, Lydia whispered into Tyler’s ear. “Honey, remember when I checked the A.P. game discs Dad gave you?”
“Yeah. You said you had to look at them before I did.”
“That’s right. You gave me all the discs, didn’t you?”
Tyler shrugged. “I think so. Why, Mom?”
Why? Because she wondered whether her computer-whiz husband had hidden evidence on one of the discs, evidence to protect himself before he walked away from the corruption.
Tyler leaned back against her. She wrapped her arm around him, enjoying the warmth of his body nestled close. Her taut muscles began to relax.
Maybe coming to Sanctuary would provide a few days of reprieve, which she desperately needed. She had worked so hard these last months to find out what had happened to Sonny. The fire hadn’t been an accident. Someone had wanted him dead. But who and why? The police? Someone at the club?
She had asked God to help her learn the truth. So far, He’d ignored her request.
The security chief—
What was his name?
She glanced at a plaque on the wall. Matt Lawson, that was it.
Her eyes strayed to a certificate with The City of Miami Police Department scripted in gold. “In grateful appreciation for services rendered.”
A former cop. No wonder Mr. Lawson seemed unsympathetic to her situation. Of course, in his defense she hadn’t given him enough information to realize why she was so cautious. Maybe he’d be more understanding if he knew the truth.
Not that she was willing to explain anything.
Slowly, the tension that had held her tight for so long eased. Her eyes grew heavy. Her mind began to drift….
A phone rang. She jerked awake with a start. Tyler was sound asleep, slumped in her arms. Her watch read 2:00 a.m.
Matt said something into the phone, then smiled in her direction.
“That’s good to hear, Ms. O’Connor. Yes, she and her son arrived a few hours ago. There was a problem with the security alarm.” He motioned for Lydia.
Katherine’s voice sounded tired when Lydia put the phone to her ear.
“Sorry about the alarm,” Katherine said. “I probably should have canceled my trip.”
“And I told you I wouldn’t hear of it. Your sister-in-law’s counting on you,” Lydia hastened to reply.
“Hip replacement at age eighty-two. She’ll need more than my help. I told Matt you were to be given every courtesy. Don’t forget, there are spare clothes in the guest room and a charge card in the desk drawer.”
“That’s not necessary,” Lydia said.
“Buy Tyler a few things for me and don’t be stubborn. You don’t want anyone to trace your credit card. Order anything you need from The Country Store. It’s about fifteen miles west of the island. And there’s a small grocery not far from the house. We can settle up when I return, if you insist.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“You helped me when Patrick died. Fact is grief probably would have killed me if you hadn’t forced me to work through my misery. I know what desperate feels like.”
Lydia blinked back tears of appreciation.
“Plus, I never thought Sonny was good enough for you, but that’s beside the point. The only thing of value he ever did was tell me about Sanctuary. Eight months ago when Atlanta held too many memories, the ocean was just what I needed. Maybe it’ll help you, as well. Now, let me give you the security code before I forget.”
Lydia wrote the numbers on a scrap of paper.
“Tell Matt he owes you a dinner for all the trouble he’s caused.”
“No harm done,” Lydia said.
“The man’s got a good heart, it’s just that his head gets in the way sometimes. And don’t listen to the island gossip. He’s more than paid for his sins. Listen, I’ve got to go, the limousine’s ready to leave for the hotel. I’m praying for you, Lydia. Call you in a day or two.”
Lydia hung up the phone. Unlike her own lukewarm attitude toward the Almighty, Katherine seemed on fire with the love of the Lord. Maybe He’d listen to her prayers.
Matt stood and walked around his desk as Lydia returned to the couch. “The electricity should be on by now. I’ll drive you and Tyler back to the house.”
She nudged her sleeping child. “Wake up, honey.”
Tyler rubbed his eyes. “I’m thirsty, Mom.”
Matt dug into his pocket, pulled out some change and pointed to a side door. “There’s a soda machine down that hall. Connects with the Community Center.” He dropped the coins in Tyler’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” Lydia said, following Tyler through the doorway.
Tyler ran to the machine. “Can I get a cola?”
“An orange drink or lemon-lime. You decide.”
While Tyler studied the selection, Lydia glanced at a glass-covered bulletin board filled with photographs that hung on the wall.
Island Life, a sign read, thumbtacked to the center of the grouping on the wall. Joel Cowan, photographer.
Although she and Sonny had never been to Sanctuary, the four-by-six glossies seemed to capture the casual lifestyle of coastal living. A few photos showed pleasure crafts docked at a marina. Others were of fishermen hauling in their catch and men and woman enjoying the sun and the surf.
Wonder if she’d find Katherine’s face in the collage.
One photo caught her eye. A group of seagulls hovered in midflight, snagging morsels of bread thrown aloft by someone out of camera range.
She smiled at the birds’ frenzy as they vied for food. Two figures stood in the background of the photo. One man watched the gulls while the other—his face cropped off the picture—draped his arm around the first man’s shoulder.
Tyler inserted the coins into the slot. A can dropped to the bottom of the machine. “I got an orange soda.” He ran back to where she stood and popped the top.
The phone rang in the security chief’s office. Lydia glanced through the open door. “Busy place,” she muttered watching as Matt picked up the receiver.
“Lawson.” He paused for a moment. “Why’d you leave the gatehouse, Sam?”
The chief’s body tensed. “How bad is it?”
Matt nodded. “I’ll contact the mainland sheriff.”
Tyler took a long sip of the cold drink, then skipped toward the offic
e, can in hand. “Come on, Mom. Time to go to Aunt Katherine’s.”
“Be there in a second.”
Lydia glanced back at the bulletin board. Something seemed familiar. She bent closer, squinted her eyes. The man in the photo—
“Sonny?”
Lydia sucked in a lungful of air. Her husband was the man in the photo.
But Sonny never had wanted to visit Sanctuary with his wife and son. Whenever Katherine invited them to visit, he would adamantly refuse, claiming he couldn’t spare the time.
Yet, his face had been captured in vivid color next to a sign that read, Help Keep Sanctuary Island Clean.
A picture might be worth a thousand words, but Lydia was speechless. Another lie. Another deception. There had been so many.
She shook her head and thought for a moment. Maybe the photo could be the clue she desperately needed.
If she found out what her husband had been doing on the island, she might find information that would lead her to the men in Atlanta who had killed Sonny.
The men who were now after her son.
THREE
“That wraps it up.” Wayne Turner, the mainland sheriff, midforties and balding, watched as the emergency road crew positioned the last of the fluorescent pylons to warn motorists traveling the narrow two-lane Bay Road. On each side of the pavement, water slapped against the stone embankment.
Wayne turned to Matt and stretched out his hand. “What a night. Flash floods and another home broken into on the mainland.”
Matt returned the handshake. “Kind of spoils the peace and quiet we like here in coastal Georgia.”
“So far, the break-ins have stayed in the dock area. I’ll pull in a few of our more colorful locals for a little heart-to-heart. Might get lucky.”
The sheriff slapped Matt’s back, then paused for a moment. “Heard you’re leaving.”
Matt nodded. “Soon as the Island Association finds a replacement.”
“Big shoes to fill.”
“Thanks, Wayne.”
The sheriff waved his hand in the air and lumbered off to his squad car just as Jason Everett stepped forward. Tall and lanky, the twenty-two-year-old was the youngest member of the security team.
