No Way Out

by Fern Michaels

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Fearless

  Spirit of the Season

  Deep Harbor

  Fate & Fortune

  Sweet Vengeance

  Holly and Ivy

  Fancy Dancer

  No Safe Secret

  Wishes for Christmas

  About Face

  Perfect Match

  A Family Affair

  Forget Me Not

  The Blossom Sisters

  Balancing Act

  Tuesday’s Child

  Betrayal

  Southern Comfort

  To Taste the Wine

  Sins of the Flesh

  Sins of Omission

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  Christmas at Timberwoods

  The Sisterhood Novels:

  Bitter Pill

  Truth and Justice

  Cut and Run

  Safe and Sound

  Need to Know

  Crash and Burn

  Point Blank

  In Plain Sight

  Eyes Only

  Kiss and Tell

  Blindsided

  Gotcha!

  Home Free

  Déjà Vu

  Cross Roads

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  The Men of the Sisterhood Novels:

  Hot Shot

  Truth or Dare

  High Stakes

  Fast and Loose

  Double Down

  The Godmothers Series:

  Far and Away

  Classified

  Breaking News

  Deadline

  Late Edition

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  E-Book Exclusives:

  Desperate Measures

  Seasons of Her Life

  To Have and To Hold

  Serendipity

  Captive Innocence

  Captive Embraces

  Captive Passions

  Captive Secrets

  Captive Splendors

  Cinders to Satin

  For All Their Lives

  Texas Heat

  Texas Rich

  Texas Fury

  Texas Sunrise

  Anthologies:

  Home Sweet Home

  A Snowy Little Christmas

  Coming Home for

  Christmas

  A Season to Celebrate

  Mistletoe Magic

  Winter Wishes

  The Most Wonderful Time

  When the Snow Falls

  Secret Santa

  A Winter Wonderland

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  Making Spirits Bright

  Holiday Magic

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let it Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  FERN MICHAELS

  NO WAY OUT

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Epilogue

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2021 by Fern Michaels.

  Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020945439

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-3118-0

  First Kensington Hardcover Edition: April 2021

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-3120-3 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-3120-4 (ebook)

  Chapter One

  Ellie Bowman knew that there were murmurs from the neighbors and cruel jokes from the kids on the next block, but it didn’t matter. It had been two years since the thirty-four-year-old had moved into the cottage at the end of Birchwood Lane. She was happy that it was located where it was—as far away from the rest of the houses on the block as possible. With each house sitting on a full acre, there was a comfortable distance between them. The homes were modest ranch-style houses built in the fifties.

  Thank goodness for Hector, her gardener, assistant, and friend. Without him, she would not have been able to look outside her window and see beautiful flowers. Without him, she wouldn’t have groceries, either. He knew the rules and respected her wishes. The only access he had to the house was to the rear porch, where he would deliver her packages and pick up her trash.

  The other thing she was grateful for was his willingness to clean up after Buddy, the black Labrador retriever she had rescued from the local shelter when she had moved to Hibbing.

  The fenced-in yard made it easy for Ellie to let him go out through his do
ggie doors to do his business and chase the squirrels around. Percy, her cat, couldn’t care less about going outdoors, which was a good thing. Ellie wouldn’t have let him out even if he wanted to go. Her seclusion was a comfort. It was better than the alternative.

  * * *

  Colleen Haywood lived down the street from Ellie with her eight-year-old son, Jackson. She was excited when she learned another woman was moving onto their street but was disappointed never to have met her. It had been two years, and the woman appeared to be a hermit. A total recluse.

  She had tried numerous times to get Ellie to come over for tea. She didn’t have Ellie’s phone number, so she would leave notes in her mailbox. In turn, Colleen would get a note back in her mailbox politely declining, saying she had a headache or was on a deadline.

  One afternoon, Colleen thought a personal invitation might do the trick, so she walked over to Ellie’s and rang the doorbell. Colleen was about to leave when she caught a glimpse of Ellie’s face as she moved across the living room. From the brief peek, Colleen saw that Ellie was pretty, with big eyes and blond hair in a short, blunt cut. She couldn’t tell how tall the woman was, but she looked like she was in pretty good shape for someone who never left the house. At least, no one had ever seen her leave the house.

  Colleen was about to give up. Obviously, the woman didn’t want to be bothered. Then Colleen jumped as Ellie’s disembodied voice came through the speaker on the intercom. They had a brief exchange, but Ellie once again politely declined Colleen’s invitation.

  Colleen made another attempt, but when Ellie had made another excuse, Colleen gave up trying to be sociable. It was too bad. They were around the same age, and Colleen could use a friend.

  Colleen finally accepted the idea that Ellie was very shy and probably a shut-in. It was odd for someone so young to have agoraphobia, but she could not think of any other reason for her behavior. But if she really was agoraphobic, then how did Ellie’s notes of regret get into her mailbox? Maybe she’s a vampire and only comes out at night. Colleen laughed to herself. Even in witness protection, people who assume new identities live a somewhat normal life.

  The only interaction between Colleen’s household and Ellie’s was that Colleen’s eight-year-old son, Jackson, would visit Buddy, Ellie’s Lab, every afternoon while the dog was in the yard.

  Ellie didn’t mind Jackson’s leaning against the fence across the front yard and talking to Buddy. Jackson was just tall enough that his head was barely above the top of the fence. As long as she didn’t have to go outside, it was all right; she figured Buddy could use the company.

  Ellie had a job that preserved her anonymity. She was a tech geek in the world of IT. She worked from home, answering questions from frustrated people who could not set up their computers or whose computers had crashed. She also worked with a number of tech companies, testing new software programs. Being a techno whiz, she had no problem hiding her real identity from others, including those who were as savvy as she was with technology. That was the reason she was able to live a quiet, solitary life. It also enabled her to communicate with her mother and best friend, Kara.

  Before moving to the small town of Hibbing, Ellie had purchased dozens of burner phones to use to make calls. She also changed her Internet service provider address every couple of days. She didn’t want anyone to be able to trace her location. If anyone asked, which was usually only her mother and her friend Kara, she would tell them she was working on a government contract and being sent to various parts of the world and would not be able to return until all the aspects of the project were complete. It was all “very top secret.” So far, she had been able to pull off the deception for two years. As much as she missed the two of them, she had no other option.

  Ellie also didn’t use any of the video-calling technology. No FaceTime, Zoom, Skype, or anything where they could see she had cut her bangs, chopped off her hair, and bleached it blond. That was another thing Ellie missed: going to a salon and getting her hair and nails done professionally. She had learned how to do both by watching YouTube videos. She remained isolated from any direct human contact. For the moment, there was no way out.

  Chapter Two

  Colleen was a second-grade schoolteacher at the local grammar school. Colleen had recently separated from her abusive husband, Mitchel. She and Jackson spent their weekdays at the same school. They would walk to school together until the last few blocks. Jackson didn’t want the kids to make fun of him for “walking with his mommy.” The routine reversed going home. They would meet up at the same corner every day. Once they got home, Jackson would do his homework, then go outside to play. He was particularly interested in the dog down the street, the one who lived with the strange lady who never went outside. Colleen tried to explain to Jackson that the lady was nice, but she wasn’t well. She didn’t go into any detail about what the word “well” meant because she didn’t really know, but it seemed to satisfy her son’s curiosity. And Colleen was grateful that Jackson had a new way of spending his time, playing fetch with Buddy. That was, at least, one thing she got out of her brief conversation with Ellie through the intercom. Colleen recalled the encounter.

  “Hello, Ellie. How are you today?”

  “I’m OK. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. Listen, I wanted to see if you’d like to come over for tea?”

  “Uh, thank you, but I’m on a deadline,” Ellie answered.

  “OK. Perhaps another time?” Colleen offered.

  “Maybe,” Ellie lied.

  “I hope you don’t mind my son, Jackson, stopping by to say hello to your dog.”

  “No. Not at all. Buddy can use the company since I’m so busy.” Ellie was calm and collected.

  “Well, thank you for indulging him. He’s been through a rough patch lately. His father and I recently separated, and he’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.” Colleen could have stayed there and chatted for an hour, but Ellie cut the conversation short.

  “I have to get back to work, but thank you again for your offer. And tell Jackson he can stop by anytime Buddy’s in the yard.” She smiled and pulled the curtain back in place.

  Colleen turned her thoughts back to the job at hand—grading papers—while Jackson finished his homework.

  “Mom? Can I go visit Buddy now?”

  “Of course. But remember, don’t bother Ms. Bowman. She is terribly busy with work.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Why do you think she never comes outside? I mean, like never.”

  “Honey, I’m not really sure, but I think she may have some health issues and can’t go out. But let’s not dwell on that, OK? She’s totally fine with your tossing the ball over the fence to Buddy.”

  “Goodie! I really like Buddy. He’s one smart dog!” Jackson grabbed his baseball glove and a ball he set aside for playing with Buddy. He pulled on his cap and headed out the door. “Bye, Mom! See ya later, alligator!”

  “After a while, crocodile!” Colleen said in return, chuckling.

  Once Colleen finished grading the papers, she went into her bedroom to finish sorting out Mitchel’s clothes. She had a court date to get the temporary restraining order made permanent. The custody battle was just beginning, and she was anticipating that it would be brutal.

  As it stood, Mitchel’s visits with Jackson had to be supervised. He could see Jackson one weekend day each week. Had Mitchel not tried to punch her in the face, which had resulted in his fist going through the wall, or had he not trashed the kitchen, perhaps things would have gone differently for him. But the police report told of bruises on her arms and a hole in the Sheetrock. She shivered at the memory of that particular night and recalled the days preceding it. In retrospect, what had happened was inevitable.

  Things with Colleen and Mitchel had been escalating, along with his drinking. With each argument, she thought he would strike her, but she had always managed to defuse the situation by agreeing with him or tak
ing the blame for something she didn’t do, something he imagined she had done. It was when he grabbed her by the throat and pushed her up against the wall that she knew the end was in sight. But she didn’t want it to be the end of her. Just the end of their marriage. She couldn’t count the number of times she cried herself to sleep, waiting for him to stumble home. She had tried to shelter Jackson from Mitchel’s hostility, but Jackson was a smart kid. He knew when his dad was acting mean.

  At first, Jackson thought his dad was mad at him. But then he overheard his father screaming at his mom, using some awfully bad words. Jackson had pulled the pillow over his head to muffle the shouting. The next morning, Jackson noticed that his mom’s eyes were really puffy and her nose really red. He knew she had been crying, but she smiled anyway and made breakfast.

  Jackson was fiddling with his cereal. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “What were you and Dad fighting about last night?” He looked up sheepishly.

  “Oh, just grown-up stuff. You know. Mommy and Daddy stuff.” Colleen was trying to smooth over Jackson’s fears.

  “But I heard Daddy call you some very bad names.”

  Colleen put her coffee cup down on the table and pulled up a chair. “Daddy and I are trying to work out some problems. You know, like the ones they give you in school?”

  “Like a puzzle?”

  “Sort of. But I don’t want you to worry about any of it, OK?” She took his chin in her hand.

  Jackson grimaced. “Well . . . OK. But it scared me.”

  She gave him a big hug. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid because of us.” She looked him straight in the eye. She knew that if Mitchel ever tried to do anything to her son, she would kill him. Literally.

  “No, I mean I’m scared you and Daddy will break up. Like Judy’s mom and dad.” Jackson started to sniffle.

  “Sweetie, we’ll figure it out. Now, let’s get ready to go to school, OK?”

  He hopped off his chair and got his jacket and backpack. “Ready when you are!” He dashed out the front door. He wanted to be out of the house before his father got out of bed. His dad was often in a nasty mood in the morning, especially if he and his mom had been fighting, which seemed like almost every night. And Jackson especially didn’t like the way his father smelled in the morning. It was a stinky beer odor, and his face was scratchy from not shaving for days at a time. Jackson wondered why things had changed. And when. He was deep in thought when his father came roaring out the front door.