“Don’t we all have moments in life when we think that? Of course, if we knew then what we did now, we’d change things. But hindsight can keep us humble.” He pulled out a screwdriver and tightened the plate against the ceiling until the light didn’t jiggle anymore.
A million questions floated through her mind about John. Why was John really here on Smuggler’s Cove? Usually, she found, big life changes were set in motion by events that altered a person’s outlook on the future. What was his story?
She made it a point to never ask people about their personal life. Mostly, because she didn’t want people to ask about her. Not even her coworkers or those she went to church with. No, she kept to herself and figured it was better that way. The fewer people that knew her, the safer she felt.
Then she’d met John and somehow her entire story had poured out.
And, for a very brief moment, she’d wondered what it would be like to have a future with the man.
Now that had been a crazy thought.
Even if her life was normal—if a crazy, money hungry man wasn’t desperate to kill her—she’d only known John a few days. Not nearly long enough to entertain thoughts of happily-ever-after.
“Connor seems to be adjusting well to island life.” John effortlessly changed the subject as he moved on to check another ceiling light.
“He is. That’s in part thanks to Rusty. He loves the dog.” Rusty had been all Connor wanted to talk about lately, and that was fine with Samantha. At least he wasn’t complaining about being here anymore.
“Rusty loves him, too. He’s a good dog.”
“Speaking of Connor, did he ask about your bruises?”
Samantha’s throat ached at the thought. “He did. I tried to explain that I’d fallen. I didn’t mention that I fell because I’d been pushed.”
Before their conversation could go any further, an explosion sounded outside. The cabin walls shook from the force.
Samantha jumped to her feet.
All she could think about was Connor.
She rushed toward the door, but John pushed in front of her. As soon as her feet hit the porch, she saw the smoke billowing from her old cabin. Through the flames, someone staggered out of the front door and collapsed on the sand in front of the cabin.
Rich. He was alive. Thank goodness.
John ran toward him.
Samantha’s gaze swerved wildly. Where was her son?
“Connor!” she shouted. Certainly he wasn’t in the cabin. There was no reason he should have been. But knowing Connor...
Please, Lord, don’t let him be in the cabin.
A dog barked in the distance. She turned and saw Rusty and Connor running toward her along the shoreline. She ran in their direction, meeting them in the middle, and greeted her son with a bear hug. She didn’t want to let go—ever.
But she did pull back and stare into her son’s wide, confused eyes. Even though he’d obviously been far away, Samantha still took Connor’s face into her hands, soaking him in just to make sure he was okay.
“What happened?” he asked. He stared at the flames behind her.
“I don’t know,” Samantha said. “There was an explosion. Something blew up. Our...our old cabin.”
She kept him in her arms and turned to look at the flames shooting from the house. Fire reached from the windows. Black smoke billowed. The intense heat devoured the wood.
The truth started to seep in. That explosion had been meant for her.
Someone had been waiting for her and John to leave. As soon as the time was right, they’d sneaked inside and set up the cabin to explode, hoping she would be inside when it happened. Lives were expendable to the person behind this act.
Now a man had almost died. Rich could have died. From the looks of it, he should have died.
John bent over the man now. Rich was moving. That had to be a good sign. Meanwhile, Larry had a cell phone to his ear.
As Rich sat up, John ran over and grabbed the water hose. He began dousing the flames.
With all the bases covered, Samantha pulled Connor into another hug. He remained stiff. Certainly he didn’t understand the implications of the explosion. She’d tried to protect him from the dark realities. The time was coming when he’d have to know the truth—at least part of it. She dreaded that day. She wanted his childhood to be innocent and full of dreams.
“Mr. John is coming,” Connor mumbled.
Samantha pulled back and turned toward her boss. His steps looked heavy across the sand, but not as heavy as his gaze. Certainly he was having second thoughts about her being here now. He had to be wishing that he hadn’t talked her into staying. Anyone in his or her right mind would.
“Is Rich okay?” she rushed. She stood, but her hand still gripped Connor’s shoulder.
“He’s going to be fine,” John started. He stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips. “Thankfully, he was at the other end of the house when the explosion happened.”
Concern laced his eyes. She’d expected regret, resentment, maybe even anger toward Samantha. This whole thing felt as if it were her fault. She never should have gotten involved. She never should have looked at those books, threatened to turn Anthony and his friends in. Maybe if she hadn’t done that, none of this would have happened.
Yet, there was still a part of her that knew she’d done the right thing. Anthony and his friends had cheated rich men out of their fortunes. There was something incredibly wrong about that.
She looked at the cabin, saw that the flames were calming down, and then glanced at Connor. “Why don’t you go throw sticks for Rusty again, Connor? Just stay on that side of the shoreline, away from the flames, okay?”
“Sure thing.” He took off, sand flying behind him, Rusty at his heels.
Samantha looked up at John, unsure where to start even. “A bomb?”
John shook his head. “Rich didn’t see anything to indicate that. I’m sure the authorities will come and investigate.” He squeezed her arm. His touch sent a tingle down her spine. “You okay?”
“Just shaken. That was meant for me. I’m sure of it.”
“You might be right.” He looked into the distance, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched.
She knew there wasn’t much time to talk. People from town would be showing up soon, along with the sheriff and everyone else around. That’s why she got right to the point.
“It’s not safe here, John. Not just for me. For anyone.” Since he wouldn’t say it, she would.
His eyes met hers again, determination welling from their depths. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Samantha couldn’t fathom how he intended on keeping that promise. The man’s cabin had just exploded. What could he possibly do to prevent other things like this from occurring? That’s why she had to remain on guard.
“Why are you so kind?”
He looked in the distance and rubbed his jaw for a moment. Finally, he looked at her again. The intensity in his eyes jolted her.
“You want to know why I joined the coast guard?”
“Sure.” Her voice was soft, almost uncertain.
“I wanted to help see justice served. I wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves, whether they were a stranded boater or someone lost at sea. I’ve saved plenty of strangers before. I’ve risked my life for people I knew far less than I know you. Living to protect others is a mindset, it’s a lifestyle and something I can’t easily get out of my blood.”
Her throat burned again. “I see.” Something about his level of selflessness warmed her.
Anthony had never been about putting others above himself. If he had been, he wouldn’t have put Connor and her in the situation they were in now. No, he often chose to spend weekends with his friends unwinding. He took golf trips, weekends in
Vegas, spent far too many evenings watching football.
Her marriage had been a lonely one. She’d tried to stick it out, though. She’d tried to be strong.
“Kylie and Nate trust me.” John’s voice broke her from her thoughts. “I hope you know that you can, too.”
The thing was that she really wanted to. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way. The desire scared her more than it comforted her. Samantha tried to say something, to nod, to do something. Instead, she just stared.
Finally, John pointed behind him. “The sheriff’s here. We’ll talk more later.”
* * *
Samantha tried to keep herself occupied while the sheriff was there by working on the other cabins. She tried to douse the memories of the explosion from her mind. But nothing would rid her of the images that flooded her thoughts every time she closed her eyes.
She glanced out the window in time to see John walking toward her while the sheriff walked away. A measure of relief filled her. She stood and stepped outside toward John, anxious to hear what he had to say.
“It appears there was a gas leak in the cabin,” John started. “At least, that’s how it seems, based on the sheriff’s experience. He can’t confirm whether the leak was accidental or if the line had been tampered with.”
“Does the sheriff have any experience with this?”
“He was a detective up in...Baltimore, I think, before coming here. But he’s going to have the state police check things out. They have experts who can come out and investigate these kinds of incidents.”
Samantha didn’t need an investigation to tell her what she already knew. Someone had found her. They would continue to try and kill her until they succeeded.
“I have to run to town and do something for a moment. Rich and Larry will be here.”
“I promised Connor I’d take him into town for some ice cream.”
“How about if I meet you there? Take Larry with you, though, just to be safe.”
Samantha nodded. “I’m just going to finish up here first.”
As the sun was beginning to set, Samantha finished scrubbing the last bit of floor space in her new cabin. John had patched up a few rough areas on the walls earlier and she was eager to get this cabin in shape. Samantha pulled all of the linens in from where they hung on the porch railing and made the beds. Finally the place seemed livable.
Despite that, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Not with everything that had already happened. She frowned as the explosion echoed in her mind.
Poor Rich. Thankfully, he was okay. Things could have turned out much worse. He had some cuts, but nothing had been broken. The blast had literally blown him out of the house.
Samantha cleaned up and then grabbed her purse. She found Connor outside and motioned him to come to her. He jogged across the sand to join her. Her gaze scanned the rest of the area.
She spotted John’s friends sitting on the porch of Cabin 2 with cold drinks in their hands. Rich waved her way.
John had asked Samantha to let Larry escort her, but, as she glanced over at him now, she realized that Rich needed help more than she did. Certainly she and Connor could handle a walk by themselves. It wasn’t even a mile.
She waved back at the two men, her mind made up, and began heading toward town.
The first part of the walk included a wooded road. The island was sparsely populated, but this side was the most spread out. After they cleared the live oak trees, they’d come to a row of houses and Samantha would be able to breathe easier.
Connor chatted on and on about Rusty, about some shells he’d found and about a little boy he’d met at the beach today.
It was good to see the incident with the explosion hadn’t affected him too much. He seemed happy—something that was long overdue.
It wasn’t that he’d been unhappy when they were living in Yorktown. Though they’d only been here a few days, Samantha couldn’t remember Connor ever entertaining himself this easily. He’d really taken to the beach.
Somewhere in the trees, Samantha heard a crack. She glanced over her shoulder, trying not to show her fear to Connor. What had that sound been? An animal? Or worse...had someone been there?
She saw nothing, only trees and underbrush. Nothing that would set off any alarms.
But she could hardly concentrate on what Connor was saying. She listened for another telltale sign that someone might be there, might be mirroring her moves or hiding out, just waiting to strike.
No, she was just being silly.
Then she heard another branch break.
Her gaze darted around, but she saw no one.
“Mom?” Connor asked.
She gripped his arm. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” His eyebrows jerked together.
She stopped, but all she heard was a bird chirping and a squirrel traipsing through the underbrush. “It was probably nothing.”
They started walking again, a little faster now, when Samantha heard the sound of something rushing out from the woods.
She looked back just in time to see a man with a black mask on. He ran straight toward them.
ELEVEN
John found he had better phone reception down at the docks than he did by his cabins. For that reason, he’d slipped away after he’d showered. He needed to make a call without Samantha knowing about it.
It was a risky move. If things turned out poorly, Samantha might never forgive him. But his gut told him his decision was the right thing to do.
“Thanks for your help, Isaac,” he said.
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I know something,” Isaac said. “I’ll catch you later.”
He hung up with another one of his old coast guard friends, who now worked as a sheriff down in Texas. He wanted more information on what had happened to Samantha. The more information he was armed with, the better. His friend promised to look into John’s inquiries and get back with him.
John hadn’t shared too many details over the phone. He’d kept things vague and said he was looking into the case for a friend who may have been ripped off. It was the truth. Samantha had been ripped off in the ultimate way. Her husband had stripped her of her pride, crushed her heart and his actions had led to her name being run through the mud.
The thing that had perplexed him was when Samantha had run into her friend at the restaurant. Her friend—Sarah, he thought her name was—hadn’t seemed the least bit suspicious. Why was that?
On the other hand, Sarah had said that two other people connected with the whole crime ring had ended up dead. Something wasn’t adding up in his mind. He wanted to figure out what.
With his phone call made, he started back down the street toward the ice cream parlor. The long day was getting to him, though, and he was ready to settle in for a long, good night’s rest. However, given the events of the past two nights, he figured he wouldn’t be getting much shut-eye tonight.
Now that Samantha’s old cabin had exploded, he needed another plan. He had no doubt that the explosion was caused by mal intent. Someone had wired something or tampered with his gas line. It was the only reason he could think of that this would have happened.
He passed by the ice cream parlor and peered inside. No Samantha and Connor yet. He’d wait a couple minutes. While he did so, the local pastor came over and chatted for a few moments. John wrapped up the conversation quickly, feeling as if he needed to get back. He didn’t know what was so urgent; something in his gut seemed to prod him on, though.
Just as he reached the residential road leading to the cabins, someone practically knocked him to the ground. Two someones, for that matter.
Samantha and Connor.
They were running at him, going full speed as though a bear was chasing them
or something. Samantha collided with his chest, her body jerking with adrenaline.
He grasped Samantha’s arms until she made eye contact. “What’s going on?”
“The man.” She turned behind her and pointed. Her breaths came out in deep gasps and her eyes looked wide and too alert. Then her face went slack. Her eyes frantically scrambled as she searched her surroundings.
There was no one there. Only an empty road. There were no bicycles or golf carts or people walking.
Connor squeezed against his mom, his eyes wide. “There was a man chasing us.” Sweat sprinkled across the boy’s forehead and his breathing seemed shallow.
They’d both obviously been frightened.
John’s gaze scanned the road again. There was no sign of danger. He pivoted, ready to search for the person who’d put this fear into Samantha and Connor. “Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know. He was just right there,” Samantha said, her voice trembling. She put her hands on Connor’s shoulders, her protectiveness toward the boy evident as always.
“Stay right here,” he ordered.
He took off in a quick jog down the road. If someone had been here, they couldn’t have gotten but so far. He intended on finding them and getting some answers.
The street seemed eerily quiet, though. There was no sign of movement, no hint that anyone had been chasing Samantha and Connor. Certainly both of them weren’t mistaken, though. Rows of houses lined both sides of the street. Small ditches snaked through the sandy grass in front of the homes. Bicycles were parked out front, most of them complete with baskets on the fronts or backs for easy shopping trips.
But there were no figures running away. No bushes trembling under the weight of an intruder hiding anywhere. No golf carts charging into the sunset.
Then, something to the side of the road caught his eye. He hurried toward it and squatted down. A black sweatshirt and a black ski mask. Interesting.
Someone had been chasing them.
He collected the evidence. He intended on turning it over to the sheriff. Maybe there was something here that would give them a clue as to this person’s identity.
Desperate Measures Page 11