Читать книгу Desperate Measures - Christy Barritt - Страница 13

FOUR

John noticed the change in Samantha when she returned from her phone call. He wondered what kind of conversation she’d had. He hadn’t missed the pallor that had come over her at the mention of Texas, either.

He kept reminding himself to mind his own business. But minding his own business wouldn’t help keep anyone safe.

Just then, Lulu appeared down the sandy walkway leading to the cabins, a large dog pulling her along.

His dog.

Rusty was a rowdy Australian Shepherd he’d found wandering outside his house three months ago. The dog hadn’t gone away, so eventually John had adopted him. Now it followed him everywhere, perhaps as his eternal way of saying thanks.

John liked to grumble about the dog, but he had to admit that Rusty had become a faithful companion. Lulu was the island’s local groomer, and John had dropped Rusty off with her this morning after she’d promised a free first visit.

“Hello, there!” Lulu called. Lulu was a heavyset woman with orange hair and too much makeup. But she was a friendly soul.

Rusty broke free from the leash and stampeded over to jump on John. The dog’s tail wagged and he continued to jump, sixty-five pounds of hyper joy. John grabbed the leash before the dog greeted Samantha and Connor with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

“A dog!” Connor exclaimed.

Connor giggled in delight when Rusty began licking his face. A moment later, Connor and Rusty took off running down the shoreline together. John thanked Lulu, who looked exhausted, and then turned back to Samantha.

“You’ve just made a friend,” Samantha mumbled. “Connor has wanted a dog forever.”

“Rusty’s been wanting a little boy to call his person for a long time, too, so they should get along just fine.”

John finished cooking, and when Connor came to join them, something nearly impossible happened. Rusty followed him and stayed at Connor’s feet. The canine didn’t run off or even look longingly down the shoreline in search of seagulls or other critters.

Traitor.

They all sat down at a weathered picnic table in front of John’s cabin. He’d thrown an old sheet over the benches, hoping no one would get a splinter. Funny how he hadn’t given that a second thought up until a few hours ago.

“What’s there to do around here?” Connor asked, taking a bite of his burger. John had cooked a couple, just in case Connor didn’t like flounder.

John looked at the water. “Go to the beach, fish, crab.”

“That sounds boring. Well, maybe not the beach. Not if I have a boogie board. Do you have a boogie board I could borrow?”

“I might be able to scrounge one up for you. But have you ever tried fishing?” John took a sip of his soda, amused by the boy’s expressive face.

He shook his head.

“Well, I’ll show you sometime.” Great, he was making promises. That was something he’d vowed not to do. He didn’t want anyone depending on him, especially not Samantha.

“Can I put the worm on the hook?” The boy’s eyes were wide with excitement.

John glanced at Samantha. A halfway amused expression feathered across her face.

“Do you want to put the worm on the hook?” John asked.

Connor nodded, mustard from his burger slathered across his top lip. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. “I do.”

“Then definitely.”

“What else is there to do?”

John looked off in the distance again. Those weren’t questions he’d thought about. He’d only been focused on his cabins. “Some boys in town like to play kickball. You ever played?”

“No, I just do karate.”

“Well, maybe you can teach them some karate, and they’ll invite you to their kickball games. How does that sound?”

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

John looked over at Samantha to see how she was taking their conversation. At the moment, she appeared distracted. Her gaze constantly scanned the area around them. Any of the earlier amusement was gone.

He stared at that bruise on her jaw. John had a feeling it wasn’t from an accident—a fall or car crash or walking into a wall. He also noticed her hand reaching for the side of her rib cage when she thought no one was looking. The woman had been beaten up. The thought caused anger to surge in him.

Samantha must have noticed him staring because her hand went to her jaw.

Connor jumped in. “She fell in the grocery store parking lot.”

A rigid, quick smile fluttered over her face. “I’m kind of clumsy.”

“Why do I have a feeling there’s more to the story?” he asked.

Her face tensed. “Nothing more, and nothing that you should concern yourself about.”

He didn’t question her, even though curiosity burned inside. Everything about the woman was mysterious...and slightly suspicious.

The rest of the conversation revolved around what needed to be done on the cabins, where to get groceries, and what to expect during tourist season.

When everyone finished eating, Samantha started to help him clean up, but the sound of a boat puttering in the distance interrupted them. He looked up to see a Bayrunner creeping up to his pier, a man waving from the bow.

He approached the man, noting how Samantha stayed back. Still, he could feel her wide eyes on him, watching everything that happened.

“You the owner of this place?” the man on the boat asked. The man appeared to be in his mid-forties and had the look of someone who spent a lot of time in the sun. His skin was so tanned that the wrinkles around his eyes remained paler than the rest of his face. He had longish blond hair, that was swept away from his face.

John nodded. “I am.”

“I’m Kent Adams, a real estate agent from Richmond. I’ve been trying to find you for the past month.” The sunset blurred behind him.

“Why would you want to find me?” John placed his hands to his hips, his guard going up.

“I have a buyer who’s interested in your land. He’s willing to pay handsomely for this piece of property. He said it’s perfect for his retirement home.”

“But this land isn’t for sale.”

“We were hoping we could change your mind. We’re talking an amount where you wouldn’t ever have to worry about money again. You could quit your day job, find another nice little plot of land, and enjoy yourself.”

“I’m not interested. Thanks for the offer.” He started to walk away when the man called him back. John paused.

“Take my card in case you change your mind.” The man extended his hand, a piece of cardstock at the end. “Maybe talk to your pretty wife about it first.” He nodded behind him at Samantha.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“At least hold on to this, just in case.”

Against his better instincts, John backtracked and took the man’s business card. He didn’t plan on using it. No, the cabins were his. He had plans for them—plans that didn’t include becoming rich, but becoming whole and healed.

Samantha’s gaze looked fragile when he returned. Her arms were crossed, her eyes focused on the boat puttering away in the distance. Meanwhile, Connor was talking to Rusty who had nothing but attention for the boy.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

John shoved the card in his pocket. “Someone inquiring about the land.”

“Is that odd?”

Her question was odd, but he didn’t mention that. “Maybe a little. It’s like Murphy’s Law, though, isn’t it? This property has been abandoned for years with no interest. As soon as I snatch it up, someone else decides they want it.”

“Life is funny sometimes.” She nodded back to her cabin. “I should get going. I need to get rested up for a full day of work tomorrow.”

“Anything you need from me?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll manage with what we’ve got.”

With that, she called Connor over and started back to her cabin.

Just what was that woman’s story?

He probably shouldn’t dig too deeply, he reasoned.

She needed help, and he had agreed to give it to her.

But still, curiosity burned inside him.

* * *

Samantha couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Lisa had died. Guilt continued to pound at her, and she mourned for her friend.

How had she died? What had happened in the moments leading up to her death? Had she suffered? Her thoughts then turned to Lisa’s family, to worry about Connor, to anxiety about everything else in life.

Her only comfort was in the fact that she was here now.

This place was no Hilton. But at least it was a place to sleep. A place to feel safe, if just for a night.

There was no telling how long they’d be here. Best-case scenario: through the summer. Worst-case: mere days.

She’d be on guard. She’d keep an eye on the sheriff, on John. If anyone seemed to recognize her, if anyone asked too many questions, she’d catch the next ferry. If that didn’t work, she’d borrow John’s boat. It was docked on the pier outside the cabins. How hard could it be to operate the watercraft?

Finally, realizing the futility of sleep, she threw the covers back, stood and went over to the living room window. Against her better instincts—in spite of her fears of someone breaking in—she’d cracked it open before turning in for the evening. Without AC, the place was hot. It would be unbearable to try to sleep in the stuffy cabin with the humid, ninety-degree weather. A nice breeze floated over the bay, but the only way to appreciate it was to open a window.

As she stared outside, she wondered if she should have gone somewhere bigger, somewhere she’d blend in. But the island seemed so secluded, like such a peaceful hiding spot. She hoped she didn’t regret the decision.

Then she thought about the man on the boat who’d paid John a visit earlier. Could he have been hired by Billy? Had he come out searching for her under the ruse of trying to buy property?

She didn’t know. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

But those men had gotten to Lisa. Poor Lisa. She’d been such a sweet friend. She’d had no idea about Samantha’s past. She’d had no idea where Samantha was going. She’d been innocent.

Despite that, they’d killed her.

That just went to prove that Billy and his cronies were ruthless. They were hot on Samantha’s trail and didn’t want her to get away again.

Not just that, they wanted to kill her. And if they did, Billy and his henchmen would flaunt it to everyone they could. They would make an example of her, showing what happens to people who betray them.

Killing her estranged husband hadn’t been enough. They also wanted her blood.

Anthony had left her three months before she’d discovered the scheme he and his friends had developed. The two of them had had endless fights over his work hours, his increasingly erratic behavior and the influence of his friends. Financially, they were better off than ever. But their relationship had otherwise gone downhill.

He’d left her and filed for divorce. Then one day, Anthony had shown up at the front door, sweat across his brow, demanding to pick up something he’d left in their home office. Samantha had refused to let him come inside. She’d feared that he might fly into a rage, and she didn’t want Connor to see his father like that.

She’d finally closed the door, and Anthony had left.

Then she’d been curious.

What had he wanted so badly? His visit had motivated her to go through the items he’d left at the house. After searching the desk once more, and in a moment of dumb luck, she’d discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers. Inside were his company’s books. She’d glanced at the pages, and what she’d seen had blown her away. Her husband had been scamming people.

She crunched the numbers and compared the figures to other records left at the house. That was when she’d realized that her husband and his friends had been embezzling from some of the city’s wealthiest. They’d promised a twenty-five percent return on their investments for flipping houses. Instead, her husband and his friends had kept all the profit for themselves.

She confronted Anthony, and he denied her accusations. Then he’d gotten quiet and asked her not to pursue her theories any further. He’d warned her that asking questions could lead to trouble.

Samantha hadn’t listened. She’d thought it was just an empty threat. She’d told him he had two days to come clean himself or she was turning the books over to authorities. Anthony had begged her not to.

Never had she imagined that in those two days, one of his friends would come up with a way to frame her. Nor had she imagined that her husband would be killed in a car crash. And she never would have imagined that Billy, Anthony’s best friend—and a cop—would frame her for Anthony’s murder. He was the mastermind behind everything, the one calling the shots.

The police had brought Samantha in for questioning, and it became clear she was going to take the fall for Anthony’s murder and the supposed part she’d played in the investment scheme. When she’d been let go on bail she’d grabbed the telltale books and fled.

It hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. But Samantha had done it.

Now, here she was today. She’d hidden all the evidence she’d taken with her in a safety deposit box. The law— including Billy, under the guise of doing his job—was chasing her. If Billy found her, she’d pay the ultimate price for her betrayal.

He wouldn’t get her. The fighting instinct in her knew she wouldn’t let that happen. She’d defend herself—and her son—with every last breath. She’d gotten this far.

Samantha had been on the run for the past year. Every time there was a hint that Billy or one of his hired men might be close, she’d fled. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it was better to keep moving than chance being killed. Better than it would have been if she’d stayed and been convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed. Then Connor would have no one. Samantha’s dad was long gone. Her mom was in and out of rehab—in other words, unreliable.

The other men involved just did Billy’s dirty work. Samantha had suspicions he was blackmailing them. That was the way he operated—by manipulation. The man who’d attacked her last night had been a stranger, no doubt someone who’d been hired.

Billy was serious. He was scary. And he was determined to find Samantha.

It was too bad the police wouldn’t help. No, the police couldn’t be trusted. Billy and his friends had planted that money in Samantha’s bank account—somehow and someway. Samantha still wasn’t sure about the details. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. To go online now and snoop around was risky. She didn’t want to do anything to lead the police to her door.

The breeze fanned her face. She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself think about what it would be like to be carefree. To be on this island on vacation. To be able to relax and enjoy herself and have fun without always having to look over her shoulder.

When she opened her eyes, she realized they were moist. No little girl ever imagined at the beginning of her happily-ever-after story that things would go this horribly wrong. Her life had become a living nightmare.

She stared at the moon over the bay. It was bright and luminous. It sent a trail of light over the water.

Samantha glanced over at John’s cabin. The man seemed nice enough. And he kept to himself. That was a good thing. Keeping distance from people was almost a requirement right now. It often left her feeling empty, but at least Connor would remain safe. That was all she could ask.

At least Connor had made a new best friend in Rusty by being here. Good. The dog would distract him and keep him occupied. John didn’t seem to mind.

She smiled when she thought about Connor squealing with delight as Rusty chased him along the shore. That boy had always wanted a dog. But she could never get him one.

What would happen if they had to pick up and leave? A dog would only get in the way.

She hoped he didn’t become too attached.

A noise in the distance caught her ear.

She tensed. What was that? It almost sounded like a scratch.

She needed to find something—anything—to protect herself with. She glanced around and realized she had nothing in the nearly barren cabin.

Creeping across the floor, she grabbed a bottle of body spray she’d left on the kitchen table. It wasn’t much, but maybe she could douse the intruder’s eyes and buy some time, if that was what it came down to.

She paused by her suitcase and listened again. There was that sound. Someone was walking across the porch, nestled close to the wall and just out of her vision.

If she put the window down, the intruder would hear her and know she was inside. But if she left it up, gaining access to the house would be too easy.

She hunkered against the wall.

She glanced across the way. Through the open door across the small hallway, she could see Connor asleep in his bed. He didn’t have a clue what was going on. Good. That was the way she wanted it. For now, at least.

Another footfall sounded. And then a shadow covered the moon that had once flooded into her cabin.

She bit back a scream and prepared herself to fight.