Nowhere to Turn

by Lynette Eason

  © 2014 by Lynette Eason

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-1951-0

  Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

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

  Published in association with Tamela Hancock Murray, The Steve Laube Agency, 5025 N. Central Ave., #635, Phoenix, AZ 85012.

  Previous Praise for No One to Trust

  “Being the first novel in a brand-new series, all that can be said for this author is that she certainly started out with a ‘bang’! For any reader looking for ‘edge-of-your-seat’ thrills, this series is the perfect gift.”

  —Suspense Magazine

  “The author doesn’t let up until the end, making No One to Trust extremely difficult to set down. I enjoyed her Deadly Reunion series, but this book surpasses those by far, and I hope this is only a glimpse of what we can expect from the Hidden Identity series. Fans of Eason’s and readers of Christian suspense will definitely want to check out this new series. I, for one, cannot wait to get my hands on the next installment.”

  —Fiction Addict

  “Eason begins an exciting new series with action and thrilling chase scenes… . The conclusion is excellent, and mystery lovers will enjoy this suspenseful novel.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “With betrayals and bodies piling up and more than their own lives at stake, Summer and David will have to rely on their faith, their wits, and maybe even each other if they’re going to survive. They may have No One to Trust, but their author proves she can be trusted to add another solid story to her already impressive resume.”

  —Crosswalk.com

  Dedicated to my Lord and Savior,

  Jesus Christ.

  I love you.

  But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.

  —2 Thessalonians 3:3

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Previous Praise for No One to Trust

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  Sneak Peek into Book 3 in the Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Lynette Eason

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  1

  THURSDAY, JUNE 5

  12:15 P.M.

  GREENVILLE, SC

  Danielle Harding pressed the ice pack to her bruised cheek and watched her husband back out of the driveway. He was gone, headed to a two-day conference downtown, and she was ready. No time for tears or for the hatred she felt for the man.

  Instead, she turned from the window and rushed up the stairs to the master bedroom. From the closet, she pulled her midsize suitcase and tossed it onto the king-size bed. She bolted into the large walk-in closet and grabbed the clothes she’d already planned to take. Next, the toiletries.

  At the slam of the door she froze. Terror thrummed through her veins.

  “Dani?”

  He’d come back. No, no, no. Lightheaded with the rush of terror, Dani grabbed the suitcase and shut it, zipped it.

  Heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  “Dani!”

  A cold sweat broke out all over her body. She pulled the suitcase into the closet and shoved it toward the back.

  Breathless, she called, “I’m up here, Kurt.” What was he doing back? He’d already come home for an early lunch and to grab a few more things, including the box of toy snakes he’d had her buy that morning.

  She should have waited.

  Icy fear slugged her in the gut. She backed out of the closet and pulled the door shut. She made a beeline for the bathroom and grabbed the brush from the sink seconds before he stepped into the room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Brushing my hair. It needed it.” She dragged the bristles through the tangles he’d left when he’d grabbed her by the back of the head. Her hand trembled. She set the brush on the counter and turned to face him, hoping no emotions showed. “What are you doing back? Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah. My wallet. Have you seen it?”

  “You put it in your coat pocket.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He stared at her. Before she could stop herself, she raised a hand to cover the forming bruise beneath her right eye. “I’m sorry,” he said, his dark eyes reflecting a remorse she’d seen too many times in their twelve years of marriage. A remorse that would vanish as soon as he perceived she’d done something “wrong” again.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed. “You didn’t mean it. It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue.”

  She’d wanted to have a birthday party for Simon, their son. Kurt had said no. She’d begged him to reconsider and he’d punched her in the face.

  He reached toward her and she couldn’t help the small flinch. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.

  Quickly, she stepped forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  His features softened and he nodded. He glanced at the clock. “I gotta get out of here. You’re sure it’s in my coat pocket?”

  “Positive.”

  “Right. Bye.”

  “Bye,” she whispered.

  He loped back down the stairs. She watched him from the balcony overlooking the foyer. He turned back and she caught her breath.

  “I’ll be home day after tomorrow.”

  “I know. Be safe.” She tried not to choke on the words.

  He gave her a two-fingered salute and slipped out the door. Dani sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to support her. “Oh Lord, I don’t think I can do this.”

  Jenny Cartee had assured her she could. Jenny. Dear, sweet Jenny, who’d recognized an abused wife and confronted her about it. Jenny, who’d showed Dani that she had worth, didn’t deserve to be a punching bag, and helped her find the courage to leave before her husband killed her. Or Simon.

  Just thinking her son’s name gave her the strength to rise to her feet.

  Eleven-year-old Si
mon. If she couldn’t do this for herself, she had to do it for her son. Simon deserved to grow up without the constant fear and pain he lived with on a daily basis.

  Dani waited fifteen minutes to make sure Kurt was really gone this time. Then she moved fast. She dragged the suitcase from the closet and finished packing it with her things, added Simon’s, and then carried the luggage down the stairs and into the garage.

  The black SUV sat in the far spot, just waiting. Any other day, she wouldn’t have dared drive the car. Kurt kept a log of the mileage, when she drove, how far she drove, and demanded a list of each person she talked to. Today was different. Today she didn’t care. Today she and Simon would finally be free. Simon rode to and from school with a friend and he was due home soon. As soon as he walked in the door, they’d leave. Because Kurt would call Mitchell’s mother to make sure she’d delivered him. All under the guise of being a loving father, of course.

  Dani went back into the house and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. She moved the nightstand and pulled up the swatch of carpet covering the small hole she’d cut into the plywood. The small box beckoned to her from its resting place on the two-by-four. She grabbed it, covered the hole with the carpet, and moved the nightstand back into place. She had managed to gather a few hundred dollars and stash the money along with some other items in the little box. But she needed more.

  Back in the master bedroom she set the box on the bed, then looked at the picture on the wall. Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she removed the picture and looked at the dial on the safe. She’d played with the combination a few times before when the thought of leaving had consumed her. Always before she had come up empty. If this time was the same, she’d just have to take what she had and go.

  Again, she tried birthdays, anniversaries, the time Simon was born. Kurt’s brother’s birthday, his mother’s. Nothing. Frustration clawed at her.

  Then it hit her. Kurt was a narcissist. It wouldn’t be about his family. It would be about him. His pride. What did he cherish the most?

  His job. His status. She tried his birthday, his graduation day from the academy. Her fingers stilled.

  His badge number.

  4892.

  But she only needed three numbers for the combination.

  She shot a glance at the clock. Time ticked away. Maybe she should just give up.

  But not yet.

  Something pushed her to get into the safe. She spun the dial. 4-8-9.

  Nothing.

  She ran her sweaty palms down her jean-clad thighs. Heart pounding faster than usual, she went back to the combination. 8-9-2.

  Nothing.

  48-9-2. She pulled the handle.

  Click.

  The door opened with a quiet whoosh.

  A thrill shot through her. She’d done it. The door to the safe stood open. She wasted a precious ten seconds just staring at the piles of cash in front of her. Then raced to grab a bag from her closet. Almost weeping with gratitude, she swept the money into the bag, and after only a moment’s hesitation, emptied the entire safe.

  Which included a Glock 17 and other items she didn’t have time to identify.

  Her blood hummed as she saw the stacks of twenty-dollar bills. Elation flowed. She would be able to take care of Simon without worrying about money until she found a job. A new name, a new place, a new life. The thought nearly made her giddy.

  She shut the safe and replaced the picture.

  And the clock continued to tick away its minutes. Minutes to freedom. Her heart beat hard and she heard herself panting.

  Taking a moment to compose herself, she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. “You’re almost there, Dani. You’re almost there.”

  She raced back down the stairs and out into the garage once more. She hid the bag with the money under the backseat. She returned to the house to fix a cooler of food when the phone rang. She jumped. Froze.

  Then glanced at the caller ID. Kurt. Her hand hovered over the handset. What would he do if she ignored it?

  Turn around and come back.

  She snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Stuart’s coming by in about five minutes,” Kurt said by way of greeting.

  “What? Why?” Her stomach cramped. That would ruin everything.

  “He’s coming to get something I left in the safe. He should almost be there.”

  The safe? Really? Today? Stuart came by occasionally to get something from the safe, but today? Fear screamed through her. She spun to look at the clock. “Couldn’t he get it tomorrow?”

  “Why? You got plans?” The low threat in his voice warned her not to push him. Not when she was this close.

  Dani swallowed hard. “Of course not. Tell him that’s fine, I’ll be here.”

  “That’s what I thought you meant.” He hung up.

  She ran to the window and glanced out toward the driveway. No sign of Stuart. Did she have time to get the bag out of the car and put the contents back in the safe?

  Movement at the end of the street caught her eye.

  Stuart.

  No time.

  Her mind spun and the only plan she could come up with was to play it cool. But what could she say when he saw the empty safe?

  Just thinking about being alone in the house with him made her shudder. Three years Kurt’s senior, the man made her skin crawl in spite of the fact that he’d always treated her with nothing but respect. Blessed with outrageous good looks, he had the personality of a viper. And the reflexes. Striking when one least expected it. Silent and sneaky with cold eyes she couldn’t read and avoided looking at.

  Her fingers shook, her blood raced. Oh dear Lord, what do I do?

  Tears surfaced. How had she ever thought she could get away with this?

  Stuart pulled into the drive.

  Anxiety made her nauseous. She ducked away from the window as Stuart got out of his car.

  “You can do this. Don’t stop to think, just do it.”

  She hurried toward the stairs and grabbed the handrail to steady herself.

  The doorbell rang.

  2

  2:30 P.M.

  Six months was long enough to recover from a gunshot wound and the betrayal of his uncle. At least that’s what he told himself. Adam Buchanan leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. A former US Marshal, he now worked for Operation Refuge, an organization founded by David and Summer Hackett. Adam liked his new job. He enjoyed protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves—and bringing down those who thought they were above the law.

  Like his uncle. The man had been in the pocket of Alessandro Raimondi, the head of an organized crime family. Raimondi was now dead, as was Parker Holland, Adam’s uncle—thanks to Adam. Adam’s mother’s way of communicating was to shoot him wounded looks. His father had fallen into a depression.

  “How you doing?”

  Adam spun to face the door. Summer stood there, concern etched on her pretty face. Her right hand rested on the bulge that announced an impending birth.

  “Hanging in there.” Adam gave a slight smile. “How are you?”

  Summer grimaced, but her physical discomfort couldn’t hide her joy. “Ready to pop, I think.”

  “How much longer?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “You going to make it?”

  Summer laughed. “Guess we’ll see.”

  Adam felt loneliness pierce him. All he’d ever wanted was a career as a marshal and a family of his own. He sighed. At thirty-three, the family part could still happen. He ignored the shaft of grief when he thought about his career. He stood. “I need a case.”

  “You just finished one. Don’t you want to take a couple of days to regroup? Take care of any personal things?”

  “No.” That was the last thing he wanted. When he was working, he didn’t dwell on his family situation. He could totally focus on his job and leave his personal troubles behind.

  Summer frowned at him as though try
ing to read his thoughts. “All right. I’ll see what we have.”

  They always had something. Adam relaxed a fraction, knowing he would soon be back in the swing of it. No more thinking about what he wanted and didn’t have. He’d found that helping others took his mind off the fact that he couldn’t seem to help his own family. Helping others was his therapy, the balm to his wounded soul. David and Summer’s faith had sparked Adam’s and he’d finally stopped blaming God for his parents’ decisions. They were both grown-ups and could make up their own minds. He wasn’t accountable for their choices, only for his own. If they chose to continue to blame him for his uncle’s death there was nothing Adam could do about it except pray. Which he found himself doing a lot. It helped some, but he couldn’t deny he really wanted a reconciliation with them. Maybe one day.

  Simon Harding stared out the window, then glanced at the clock. School was almost over. Most days he wished he could just stay there. He hated going home. The only good thing about home was his mother. And his video games. One more day of school and summer vacation would start. A ball formed in his gut at the thought. He hated the long breaks from school. He shifted and his hearing aid whistled. Simon pressed the mold more firmly into his ear and grimaced. He needed new molds, but his dad hadn’t said his mother could take him to get them yet.

  But his dad would, because if he didn’t, people would talk. And if his dad thought someone would say something negative, he’d do anything to make sure that didn’t happen.

  The teacher stomped on the wooden floor and the vibration jerked Simon back to the present. Mrs. Brown fit her name. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown personality. She signed, “Simon, are you with us today?”

  A flippant answer came to mind, but he resisted. Getting in trouble wouldn’t be a good thing. He signed back, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her brown eyes softened at the respect. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Would you please come work the math problem?”

  Simon looked at the board for the first time since he’d walked into the classroom. And smiled. He rose from his desk and easily solved the algebra problem, explaining each step as he went. When finished, he dropped the dry erase marker in the tray and looked at Mrs. Brown. Once again, he’d managed to surprise her.