Nowhere To Hide. Debby Giusti
“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