by Debby Giusti
Suddenly her courage faltered.
Tears burned her eyes. She blinked to control their onslaught.
She was being paranoid. No one knew she was in Sanctuary. Tyler was safe with the Jacksons. After Matt left, she’d lock the doors and turn on the alarm. Of course, she wouldn’t sleep and the lights would burn until dawn.
Matt rose and touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”
A stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m tired of being afraid.”
TEN
“Talk to me, Lydia.”
The warmth in Matt’s voice touched her. She gazed into his eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen before—compassion, concern, even a little empathy.
“What happened in Atlanta?” he asked.
“There…there was a fire.” Whether it was the late hour or the haunting memory, the words slipped out before she realized.
Then she shrugged, wiped her hand over her damp face, trying to bolster her courage. “Look, it’s past. Tyler and I are making a new life for ourselves.”
“You told me talking helps.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“What about your husband?”
She didn’t want to think about the fire. But the panic she had felt that night returned. Her palms grew damp. She wiped them on her dress.
“I got Tyler outside and started to go back for Sonny. One of the firemen stopped me. I struggled with him, wanted to keep going, but there was no hope.”
Matt reached out and stroked her cheek. A tender gesture.
A lump filled her throat. She swallowed, willing her voice to work. “Sonny and I didn’t have the best marriage. But I never wanted anything to happen to him.”
“Were you leaving him, Lydia?”
More tears spilled over her lashes. She nodded. “Tyler and I were moving out in the morning.”
Matt stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She dropped her head onto his chest and let the tears fall. She cried for her husband who had died, for her son exposed to too much pain and for a way of life that had been replaced with fear.
Someone had wanted Sonny dead. She had tried to learn the truth while she was in Atlanta, but every path led to a dead end. Now she was hiding out on a remote island, hoping the people who had killed Sonny wouldn’t find her or Tyler.
And for some reason, she had turned to a former cop who might have connections with the police in Atlanta. Don’t trust him, an inner voice whispered. Yet tonight, she was ignoring that warning.
Matt wrapped Lydia in his arms. The woman’s heart was broken, and she was grieving for everything that had happened to her and to her child.
“Shh. It’s going to be okay, Lydia.”
She was soft and slender, a mere wisp of a woman but with a backbone strong as rawhide. Most of all, he admired her courage. She’d left everything behind in Atlanta and had come to this secluded spot. But why? Was it merely to get away from the pain? From the strength of her sobs, it appeared she had carried the pain with her.
She was running from something—perhaps the police’s attempt to blame her for Sonny’s death. They didn’t have any evidence or they would put out an APB for her arrest.
What had her husband been involved in? A man could get himself into a heap of trouble. No reason why a woman and child had to be hurt because of it.
“There, there, Lydia. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She sniffed.
He reached for a box of tissues on the counter. “Dry your eyes.”
She grabbed a tissue, wiped it over her cheeks and blew her nose. When she glanced up at him her eyes were red and her face splotched, but she looked more beautiful than any woman he had ever known.
“That’s better,” he said as she forced a smile.
He hugged her briefly before she pulled from his embrace and walked to the sink.
“I usually don’t cry.” She splashed water on her face and wiped it dry with a paper towel.
“You don’t have to be so strong, Lydia.”
“I never want Tyler to see—”
“You want to protect him. I know. But you need to work through your fear.”
“Like you’re doing with your guilt?”
He shook his head. “Guess we’re broken in different ways.”
“At least you can turn to God for help,” she said.
“Trust Him, Lydia.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s the problem, I can’t trust anyone.”
Lydia punched her pillow, hoping to get comfortable. The bed in Katherine’s master bedroom seemed bigger than usual. And lonelier.
She had eventually told Matt to go home. She’d be fine. But as much as she wanted to push her fears aside, the possible break-in had made her resolve crumble like blue cheese. Left alone, she wouldn’t have closed her eyes all night.
And Matt knew it. He had volunteered to spend the night out front in his pickup. Asked for a bottle of water. Nothing else.
She had padded to bed, hoping to sleep off her anxiety. Now, hours later, her eyes were still wide-open. Sleep seemed to elude her, no matter who was guarding the house.
She rolled to her left side and forced her eyes shut. Two seconds later, they flew open as a vision of Matt flashed through her mind. He was scrunched up in the driver’s seat, legs jammed against the dashboard, his arms wrapped around his chest. She moaned and tried to focus on something else.
Tyler.
She smiled, thinking of the stories he’d tell when she picked him up in the morning. He would square his slender shoulders, attempting to look grown-up as he talked about the sleepover.
Her mind backtracked to before the fire, before Sonny’s death. Tyler had been a happy-go-lucky little boy who loved life.
Of course, all that had changed.
Her eyes closed, she saw the flames, smelled the smoke. Tonight, it seemed so real.
Pulling herself from the bed, she reached for a bathrobe and slipped it on before she glanced at the clock—2:00 a.m.
Accustomed to the dark, she walked resolutely out of the bedroom and down the hallway, stopping at the front window to peer outside. Matt’s pickup was parked in the driveway.
Good to his word, she saw the shadow of his body lodged in the driver’s seat.
In their years of marriage, Sonny had never sacrificed his comfort for hers. Matt had his own battles to fight, but he was sleeping in the truck to protect her.
She wanted to believe Matt was a good guy with a big heart. Yet Tyler’s safety depended on her being cautious.
The first light of dawn warmed the horizon as Matt crawled out of his pickup and stretched. He’d spent the last few hours thinking of Lydia and how good she’d felt in his arms.
He looked toward the heavens.
Lord, I don’t deserve Your mercy. But Lydia’s hurting. She needs You in her life. Help her to find her way. And if I can, let me be Your instrument.
Morning prayer offered, he walked around the house, checked that the doors were locked and scanned the perimeter of the yard, ensuring no one hovered nearby.
A home, a wife, a child—
Was that what he wanted?
With only an efficiency apartment attached to security headquarters and a pickup to call his own, he wasn’t what women were looking for in the husband line. He shook his head. No reason to think Lydia would be different from any other woman.
A cool morning breeze followed him as he walked back to his truck. He climbed in, then turned to stare at the silent house.
What is it about you, Lydia? Suddenly, I’m yearning for something more in my life. And that scares me.
He put the gear into Reverse and backed down the drive. He’d better leave Sanctuary before his heart overruled his head.
Lydia heard Matt’s truck pull out of the drive. In a way, she felt relieved. Just knowing he had been outside had kept her pulse racing and her mind on anything but sleep.
/> Once again, she slipped from the bed and stepped into the hallway. Stillness surrounded her as she walked to the window, pulled back the curtain and watched his pickup turn onto Cove Road, heading south.
Last night she’d broken down in Matt’s arms and allowed him to see her vulnerability. From here on, she needed to be strong.
Crawling back into bed, she closed her eyes. An image of Matt, holding her in his arms, drifted through her mind as she fell asleep.
The phone jarred her awake a few hours later. She reached for the receiver and wiped a hand over her eyes, trying to clear her vision and her brain. The clock read 8:00 a.m.
“Lydia, it’s Joel.”
The last person she wanted to hear from this morning.
“Look, I’m really sorry about last night,” he said. “You were a jewel to face a roomful of strangers. And then I was tied up with host duties.”
Joel had been the problem, not the strangers.
“When Lawson barged in…well, I reacted.”
“You guys always seem to butt heads.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“Joel!”
“Okay. Guess he was doing his job or so he said. Still…” Joel paused. “I’m sorry our sparring made you uncomfortable.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Let me make it up to you over breakfast. There’s a coffee shop at the marina. Coffee and sweet rolls perhaps? Afterward, we could take my boat out for a little spin around the island, if you’d like. Especially since we didn’t have enough time to get to know each other last night.”
Plenty of time to know she didn’t want any more to do with the playboy sailor. But the photo of Sonny flashed through her mind, followed by the strange look Joel’s guest had given Lydia when she asked about his law firm.
What was Joel involved in? Did he have ties to Sonny and the Men’s club?
Lydia was sure of one thing. She needed to find out more.
“Coffee sounds fine, Joel. I’ll skip the boat. Hate to admit it, but I’m afraid of the water. And would you mind bringing that photo I showed you last night?”
“Not a problem. I’ll see you at the marina. Say in thirty minutes?”
She hung up, hoping she’d soon know more about Sonny’s island visit.
A gentle breeze blew across the marina and played with Lydia’s hair as she stepped from her SUV. Pulling the wayward strands from her face, she scanned the rows of luxury crafts and spied Joel in the distance, sitting at a sidewalk table in front of the coffee shop. He waved and stood as she walked toward him.
“Morning, Joel,” she said, slipping into the wrought iron chair he held for her. A manila envelope lay on the table.
The sun hung in the eastern sky and warmed Lydia’s face. She glanced at the boats docked nearby, grateful to be on dry ground.
“I ordered two coffees and a basket of pastries,” Joel said as a waitress appeared with two filled mugs and an assortment of sweet rolls and muffins.
“Thanks again for the party last night,” Lydia said once they were alone.
“Everyone loved meeting you.”
“Really? Who was the woman I talked to while you got my soda?”
“Cynthia?”
“That’s right. She said you invited her up often.”
He smirked as if he had a secret and leaned forward to share it. “Cynthia would like to be invited up on a permanent basis.”
“She’s very attractive.”
He stared at Lydia for a long moment. “But not my type.”
Lydia glanced away. Water lapped against the side of the nearby pier. Gulls flew overheard. Perhaps the same birds that flew near her husband the day Joel had snapped his picture.
Lydia pointed to the envelope. “Did you bring the photo?”
“An eight-by-ten. Thought the enlargement might give you more clarity.” He pulled the glossy from the envelope.
Lydia stared at the now clearly defined face.
No doubt about it. The man in the photo was her husband.
“Friend of yours?” Joel asked before taking a sip of coffee.
Friend? “He looks like someone I knew in Atlanta.”
“Nice town.”
“You go there often?” Lydia slanted a glance at Joel.
He shrugged. “Two, three times a year. Take in a Braves game, have a nice dinner in Buckhead, do a little shopping.”
“Buckhead, huh?” Where Sonny’s club was located. “Ever hear of the Men’s Club?”
Joel shook his head. “Sounds like a place where a guy could get into trouble.”
Trouble was an understatement. Lydia tried to read his body language. Was he telling the truth or playing her for a fool?
She pointed to Sonny and then the man whose face was cut out of the picture. “Any idea why these guys were on the island?”
“As I recall, they were just passing through. Haven’t seen either of them since.” Joel bent closer to the photo. He studied the frame, then chuckled. “Only thing I can tell you, the guy out of camera range must like that new action game everyone’s talking about.”
“What?”
Lydia’s eyes flew back to the photo. This time she noticed the man’s wrist draped over Sonny’s shoulder.
Her stomach roiled. The enlargement clearly showed the man was wearing a watch—an A.P. digital.
The same type of watch the man in the school yard had worn. Had Sonny been friends with the man who had tried to kidnap their son?
Suddenly, she felt sick. Rubbing her hand over her stomach, she watched as Joel grabbed a sweet roll and took a large bite of the cream-filled pastry.
The island photo bug was as transparent as the negatives he developed. Self-centered and ostentatious, but he was easy to read. And she was sure of one thing. He had told her the truth when he said he didn’t know Sonny.
As Joel reached for his coffee, his phone rang. He withdrew the cell from his pocket and looked at the caller ID, then chuckled as he raised it to his ear.
“Cynthia. I thought you’d be in Jacksonville by now.” He paused before glancing at his watch. “Fifteen minutes? Sure, meet you at the house.”
Closing his cell, he gave Lydia a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but Cynthia forgot her makeup case. I have to run.”
Joel pulled his wallet from his hip pocket. “Promise me, we’ll do this again. Soon.”
Lydia didn’t want to commit to anything.
He dropped a few bills on the table. “Next time there will be no interruptions.” He winked, then walked to his car and drove away.
Lydia glanced down at the photo of her husband. What had brought Sonny and the other man to Sanctuary? The man with the A.P. digital? The man who had tried to grab Tyler?
Lydia shook her head. Would she ever find all the pieces to the puzzle? Or would she and Tyler spend the rest of their lives hiding out?
Matt poured himself another cup of coffee and swallowed the bitter brew, wondering how many gallons of high-test he had consumed in the last six hours. He was riding on pure caffeine at this point, but he had a pile of paperwork to catch up on before he called it a day.
Plus, he’d wasted enough time thinking about Lydia, a woman he couldn’t have and had no business wanting.
Butch Griffin, the retired cop Harris recommended, called an hour later. Matt wiped a tired hand over his face.
“Yeah, take I-95 south until you hit the turnoff,” Matt told Butch over the phone. “We’re about an hour and a half from the highway, due east. Bay Road will lead you onto the island. Tell the guard at the gate you’ve got an appointment with me. He’ll direct you to my office.”
When Butch walked in a few hours later, he was exactly what Matt expected: middle-aged with an extra twenty pounds tacked on over muscle. He had a no-nonsense look and a propensity to frown.
Matt offered him a seat and an opportunity to explain why he wanted the job.
“Retired from the Atlanta P.D. after twenty years,” Butch recounted. “Been working night
s for a computer company since then. Watching their equipment, supplies.”
Butch sniffed. “Got bored with the routine. Then they downsized. Harris mentioned this job. Sounded like what I’ve been looking for. Plus, I’ve got a daughter who lives on the mainland, not far from here. Her mama and me divorced when she was in middle school. Now she’s on her own with a kid on the way. Thought being close to family would be good for a change.”
Butch’s comment about wanting to be part of a family struck home with Matt. He’d been feeling the same way recently.
The retired cop seemed to be the answer to Matt’s staff shortage problem. And he trusted Harris’s recommendation.
“Basically, we’ve got a friendly community here on the island,” Matt explained. “People take care of themselves and watch out for their property.”
Butch nodded. “After Atlanta it looks like a piece a cake.”
“We have had a few incidents recently. A Peeping Tom bothered one of the residents. Later, the woman thought someone had entered her home.” Matt cleared his throat. “I don’t know if there’s a tie-in, but you never know.”
“I got ya.”
“The mainland’s had a number of break-ins. The sheriff’s handling the investigation.” Matt shrugged. “Even sleepy little waterfront communities have their problems.”
“Anything else?”
“About a year ago, there was talk a high-level crime operation was seeking to make their headquarters in this area. Nothing’s turned up.” Matt paused. “Still, keep your eyes open.”
Butch wiped a hand over his jaw. “Friend of mine worked in Miami. Said you were one of the best.”
Matt nodded his appreciation. “He tell you why I turned in my badge?”
Butch dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Not him. But I heard talk.”
Information traveled in law enforcement. Griffin had probably asked a few questions. Matt couldn’t blame him. Any new hire would want to know as much as possible about the man for whom he was going to work.
Matt let out the deep breath he was holding. “Harris mention it?”
