Nowhere To Hide

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 office, 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.

“How’s the embankment holding up?” Matt asked.

“Water’s high, but the northern wall’s still solid. Southern side’s a piece a—”

Matt raised a reproachful eyebrow at his outspoken assistant.

“Washed out with the storm is what I was going to say,” Jason hastily added.

Matt glanced at his watch. “Don’t you have an 8:00 a.m. class?”

“I can skip.”

“Not today, Jas. I told you when I hired you, part-time until you get your degree. You’ve been on the clock for more than fifteen hours. Better head over to the mainland and clean up. I wouldn’t want your professor complaining you smelled up his classroom.”

Grinning, Jason started to walk toward his pickup. “Heard you had a lady friend in the office last night,” he called over his shoulder.

“Eunice talks too much. A houseguest of Ms. O’Connor’s had a little problem with the security alarm.”

“Right.” The kid exaggerated a nod.

“Jason, go home. Clean up. Get to class.”

The young guard wiped the smirk from his face but his eyes twinkled with mischief. He raised his right hand to his forehead in a salute. “Yes, sir.” Dutifully, he climbed into his pickup and headed toward the mainland.

Matt watched the truck disappear from sight. The kid had the makings of a good cop, just so long as his enthusiasm didn’t get the best of him.

Keep him safe, Lord.

The first hint of dawn glowed on the horizon. Overhead, a few stars twinkled, like fireflies on a hot, summer night.

Father, only You know what today will hold. Help me do my job to the best of my ability. Aid me in every endeavor. And forgive me my transgressions.

Lowering his eyes, he stepped toward his truck.

Fair skies and sunshine, the weather reporter had said. A perfect day, except for all that had happened in the last few hours—a woman and child arrived in Sanctuary with only the clothes on their backs and a storm nearly wiped out the island’s only connection with the mainland.

Traveling without luggage screamed of running from something. Ms. O’Connor had vouched for her houseguests, yet instinct told Matt that Lydia Sloan’s story didn’t add up one hundred percent. She was someone to be watched.

Not that he had time to play private investigator. He had reports to file and damage from the storm to assess. He climbed into his truck, pulled onto the pavement and turned left at the next intersection.

So why was he heading north on Cove Road?

Because he couldn’t get the woman’s vulnerable look out of his head.

And the boy? A couple of years younger but Tyler reminded him of Enrico.