Nowhere to Hide

by Debby Giusti

  Lydia turned as the host approached.

  “Contrary to popular opinion, I do not invite attractive women to my parties and then leave them to fend for themselves,” Joel said. “And I certainly don’t introduce them to other eligible bachelors who might edge me out of consideration.”

  Lydia forced a smile. “You have a beautiful home, Joel.”

  He shrugged. “Only as beautiful as the people who fill it.” He placed his glass on the bookshelf and reached for her free hand. “Lydia, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since that day we met on the beach.”

  “Joel—”

  “I understand you and your son are here for a vacation. I’m hoping that includes getting to know me better. I’d love to take you sailing. Perhaps candlelight dinners when Tyler stays at his friend’s house.”

  Her pulse raced but not with attraction. Joel had acquired a slight lisp, no doubt from the wine he had consumed.

  Someone opened the doors that led to the deck. A stiff breeze blew through the house, causing her to shiver.

  “You’re cold.” Joel released her hand and draped his arm over her shoulders. “Let me keep you warm.”

  Lydia pointed to the photo on the shelf and tried to edge out of his embrace. “Tell me about this picture, Joel. When was it taken?”

  Her host shrugged. “In the past year or so.”

  “This man,” Lydia indicated Sonny “do you know him?”

  He squinted at the photo. “Maybe a visitor to the island. Or someone’s houseguest. I can’t place him to tell you the truth.”

  Truth? That’s what Lydia was seeking.

  The doorbell rang, the sound barely audible above the music. If only Joel would stay put and not rush off to welcome the newcomer. She needed to learn more about the photo before he disappeared again.

  “Any idea who this other man is?” The second man’s face had been cut out of the picture.

  “Let me see.” Joel bent to take a closer look, his head touching hers.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice demanded behind Lydia.

  She turned. “Matt?”

  The security chief stood three feet away.

  Joel dropped his arm from around Lydia and swaggered forward. “Who invited you?”

  “Someone called in a noise complaint, Mr. Cowan. You know the regulations.”

  “Since when is having a party against the rules?”

  “The music’s too loud. Lower the volume and there won’t be a problem.”

  “The only problem is a security chief who thinks he’s still in Miami.” Joel hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Now I remember. You turned in your badge, didn’t you? Something about not being there to back up your partner?”

  Matt’s face darkened. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Lydia saw his hands fist as if he was ready to punch the lawyer in the gut.

  “Catch that Peeping Tom yet, Lawson?” Joel continued to taunt. “Just exactly what are we paying you for?”

  “Turn down the music,” Matt said through clenched teeth.

  The host eyed a man standing near the sound system and nodded almost imperceptibly. The house fell silent.

  Candles flickered, casting shadows into the corners of the room. Matt glanced around at the various groups of people now standing silent.

  Joel’s arm returned to circle Lydia’s shoulders. She tried to step away, but he pulled her closer.

  Matt’s gaze rested on Lydia. “Everything okay?”

  Before she could answer, Joel spoke. “Everything was fine until you barged in. Lydia and I were enjoying a night together.” His voice was laced with innuendo.

  Lydia shrugged out of Joel’s embrace, feeling soiled by his touch. The last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of two men trying to one-up the other. She’d had enough of the party, her slightly intoxicated host and the security chief who seemed to always appear out of thin air.

  “The party’s over for me, gentlemen. Good night.” Squaring her shoulders, she strode toward the door. Halfway there, she remembered the photo. No way would she turn around and retrace her steps.

  She’d talk to Joel another time, when his head was clear and his lips untied and when Matt wasn’t around to interfere.

  Pulling in a deep breath, she stuck her chin into the air with determination and marched out the front door.

  Matt followed Lydia from the house and climbed into his truck just as she turned her SUV onto the main road. He’d handled that with about as much finesse as a mule taking dance lessons. And he’d felt just about as awkward. Not because he’d walked into an upscale home or confronted the host and caused some of the guests an anxious moment. None of that bothered him a hoot.

  The real problem was seeing Lydia wrapped in Joel’s arms. Just how long had she planned to stay at the party?

  Matt turned the key and tramped down on the accelerator. The wheels squealed, leaving a streak of rubber. A little present for Cowan when he worked through his hangover in the morning. He’d be sure to remember who interrupted his plans with Lydia.

  The thought of the sleazeball putting the moves on her made Matt burn, literally. He turned the air conditioner to high and adjusted the vent so the cool air blasted over him.

  Not that he had any romantic feelings for the newcomer. She was simply out of her element when it came to the likes of Joel Cowan. Money could turn a girl’s head. Money, and a fancy car, a sailboat, a beachside mansion.

  “You think you’d learn,” Matt growled under his breath.

  A pretty face distracted a man, caused him to think irrationally or not at all. And Matt knew too well when a man was distracted, tragic things could happen.

  He didn’t need a woman in his life. Or so he kept telling himself.

  Bottom line, he didn’t deserve one, either.

  Lydia turned the SUV’s air conditioner to high, trying to cool her frustration. Once again Matt Lawson had barged into her life. This time, when she and Joel were talking about the photo of Sonny.

  What was the connection between her husband and the lawyer? The Men’s Club? Could Joel be involved in the Atlanta operation?

  She’d been so close to finding out before Matt had thrown Joel off course.

  No one had called in a complaint about the music. Matt told her the lots were five-acre tracts. Music wouldn’t travel that far, especially with the pounding surf and ocean breeze as a backdrop. The only one who had been disturbed was the security chief.

  The look on his face continued to float through her mind. How dare he think she was involved with Joel?

  She adjusted the air conditioner vent. The cool air swirled around her, fanning her hair away from her face. She probably looked like a banshee. Call her a wild woman, but she was mad.

  Why couldn’t something work out for a change? She wasn’t any closer to exposing Sonny’s killers or finding a way to protect her son.

  She forced out a deep breath as sadness overcame her anger. She’d made a mess of her life. Growing up, she’d thought love was forever. She’d asked God to bless her marriage, and trusted He would.

  The sting of reality hurt too much.

  She and Sonny had done more than drift apart. They had taken giant strides. And it seemed Sonny had taken the largest steps to distance himself. Not that Lydia had minded at the time. When there was nothing left to hold on to, being alone with Tyler outweighed trying to fake a relationship with her husband.

  Lydia passed the turnoff to the Jackson’s house. More than anything she wanted to see her son, wrap her arms around him and whisper that she loved him. But she was being overprotective again. She needed to give Tyler space to grow. He was safe with the Jacksons. No reason for her to ruin his evening just because hers had turned out so bad.

  Katherine’s drive loomed ahead. A feeling of dread settled over Lydia. Probably fatigue. A cup of herbal tea would help.

  The memory of the face at the window sent a shiver down her spine. This time she’d make sure the curtain was
completely closed.

  Pulling into the driveway, she shook her head at her own stupidity. She’d left before dark and hadn’t turned on the porch light or left a lamp burning inside. Nervous about the party, she’d rushed out the door without thinking.

  Now, the house sat dark and empty.

  The trees rustled an ominous greeting as she stepped from the car.

  Silly goose. Always afraid of the night.

  Mustering her courage, she walked defiantly to the front door, clicking her heels hard against the concrete.

  For all her determination, fear wrapped its ugly hand around her. Shaking off her trepidation, she turned the key in the lock. The door swung open.

  Silence.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  Her neck tingled a warning. She thought she’d turned on the alarm.

  Her hand groped for the wall switch. Light filled the room. She blinked.

  The pillows on the couch were exactly as she had left them. The newspaper sat folded on the coffee table next to the chapter book Tyler was reading.

  Her eyes glanced into the corner by the couch. Tyler’s book bag had been zipped up and tucked under the side table when they had left the house. Now it lay open, papers and pencils scattered around the floor.

  Tyler didn’t have a key so he couldn’t have come home.

  Lydia reached for the security alarm and punched in the silent emergency alarm.

  She needed help.

  Someone had been in the house.

  NINE

  Lydia sat in her SUV with the engine running, waiting for her call for help to be answered. She eyed the house. If anyone was still inside and tried to run, she’d floor the accelerator and escape down the drive.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms. The heat of her earlier anger had turned to bone-chilling cold. Her skin crawled as if a thousand bugs were swarming over her flesh.

  What would an intruder want with Tyler’s book bag?

  Headlights illuminated the driveway. She recognized Matt’s pickup.

  “Someone broke in while I was gone,” she called, as he jumped from his truck, gun in hand, and raced toward the front door.

  “Stay outside, Lydia. I’ll tell you when it’s clear.”

  She followed him up the steps and waited at the door while he searched the main living areas before heading down the hall to the bedrooms. Returning to the great room, he approached the sliding-glass door that led to the deck and tugged on the handle. The door slid open.

  Lydia’s heart thumped hard against her chest. “Tyler went outside before we left the house. He must have forgotten to slip the lock in place.”

  Matt closed the door, engaged the lock and bent to latch the special anti-intrusion device Katherine had installed.

  Pulling the draperies across the large panes of glass, he blocked out their view of the night and anyone else’s view into the house.

  “Any idea what’s been stolen?” he asked.

  She stepped inside. “I haven’t looked around. When I opened the door, I saw Tyler’s book bag and was afraid to go any farther.”

  The puzzled look on his face made her backtrack. She told him about the school supplies scattered on the floor, and her immediate concern someone had broken in.

  “Let’s check Katherine’s high-value items,” Matt suggested.

  The sterling flatware and serving pieces were in neat rows in the silver chest. A collection of figurines sat untouched on the curio shelves and the oil painting of Christ in the boat with the disciples still hung on the wall. Even the few pieces of jewelry Katherine had left behind seemed to be in their original spots. As far as Lydia could tell, nothing had been taken.

  “Maybe Tyler came home to get something. Why don’t you call the Jacksons? Just say you want to tell Tyler good-night.”

  Lydia dialed the number.

  Rob answered. “The guys are already in their pajamas and watching a movie. Want to talk to him?”

  “If you don’t mind. You know mothers, we like to check on our sons.”

  “Hey, not a problem. Sarah’s the same way. I understand completely.”

  “Do I have to come home?” Tyler complained when he got on the phone.

  “No, honey. I just wanted to know if you were having a good time.”

  “The greatest. Mrs. Jackson made chocolate cake. She let us eat in the living room. Now we’re watching a movie. Mr. Jackson said he’d pop popcorn.”

  “Did you go outside tonight?”

  “Just to eat dinner. Mrs. Jackson said we could have a cookout on the deck. We roasted marshmallows on the barbecue. Then we came inside for cake.”

  “And you didn’t come home for anything?”

  “I don’t have a key, Mom.”

  “What about earlier, Tyler? You went out to get your Frisbee. Do you remember locking the sliding door?”

  Tyler sighed. “I don’t remember.”

  “Okay, honey. You better get back to the movie. Have a good night. And get some sleep.”

  He hesitated. “Mom, you’ll come and get me tomorrow, won’t you?”

  “Mrs. Jackson said the party would be over at noon. I’ll see you then.”

  She hung up and looked at Matt. “Tyler never left their deck.”

  Matt nodded and glanced around the room. “I’ll make a note of the incident so it’s on record, but there’s nothing more I can do.”

  “Shouldn’t the police be notified?”

  “The mainland cops rely on my folks to patrol the island. I call them in when there’s a crime, but…” He paused for a moment. “I have to tell you, Lydia, an open book bag doesn’t prove someone’s been in the house.”

  She didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved but settled on the latter.

  “Maybe I’m blowing this whole thing out of proportion.” She tried to go back over the day’s activities. “Tyler’s book bag was under the table. I turned on the alarm before I left. The sliding doors were locked, but Tyler went back outside.”

  “Even if they were unlocked, the alarm would have tripped if someone opened the door. Who else has the code?” he asked.

  “No one I know of.” She dug her fingers through her hair and sighed. “Surely Katherine wouldn’t have given it to anyone.”

  “I agree. It doesn’t sound like something she’d do.” He gave the room another look, then stepped toward the door. “Well…it’s time for me to head out.”

  Lydia didn’t want to be alone just yet. “How about a cup of coffee? Decaf okay?”

  He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Sounds great.”

  In the kitchen, she placed the ground coffee beans in the basket and poured water into the reservoir. A rich aroma soon filled the air.

  “Guess I spoiled the party for you tonight,” Matt said.

  Lydia shrugged. “You told me earlier that you didn’t like Joel.”

  “Yeah? Well, I should keep my opinions to myself.” He turned away from her and looked out the window. “I keep thinking he might be involved in more than he lets on.”

  After seeing the photo of Sonny, she was beginning to agree. She leaned against the counter and watched Matt pull out a chair and sit at the kitchen table.

  “You were a policeman in Miami?” she prodded.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Detective.”

  “And something happened to your partner? Is that what Joel was referring to?”

  Matt wiped an imaginary speck of dust from the top of the table. “Look, Lydia, I’d rather not discuss it.”

  She turned her back on him and opened the cabinet. So he didn’t want to talk. She knew how that felt. Some things were too painful to share.

  She placed two mugs on the counter. “Cream or sugar?”

  He shook his head. “Black.”

  “Talking helps.” The words surprised even her.

  “Then tell me something about Lydia Sloan,” he said, his gaze steady yet warm.

  She poured the coffee, carried the cups to the table and
sat next to him. “What’s to tell? Married, one child, husband deceased.”

  “And you left Atlanta—”

  “I told you. Katherine invited us here for a little vacation.” She raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. “Is this déjà vu of the night we met?”

  He toyed with his mug. “The night you blew in on the heels of a storm.”

  She laughed. “Now that sounds sinister.”

  He raised an eyebrow and stared at her.

  “I thought we were discussing your past,” she said in self-defense.

  “Cowan talks too much, and you, Miss Newcomer, don’t talk enough.”

  She ignored his comment. “Why did you leave Miami, Matt?”

  “Got tired of the big city, wanted a little peace and quiet.”

  “Hmm. My take is something happened to your partner. You feel responsible.”

  “Now you’re psychic?”

  “Just reading the signals you send.”

  “And your signals?” he asked.

  She tilted her head and shrugged. “Don’t have any. I’m the proverbial open book. Married the first guy I dated. Wanted to get away from a bad home life and ended up in another.” She tried to smile.

  “Sometimes I wonder what makes the difference.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Difference?”

  “Why some marriages work and others don’t,” he said.

  “I asked Katherine that very question once when her husband was so sick. ‘Trust in God,’ she told me.” Lydia shook her head, sadness sweeping over her again. “After he died, I didn’t know how her faith could stay so strong.”

  Matt pursed his lips. “Sounds like my partner’s wife. My selfishness cost her a lifetime of grief. Yet she forgave me.”

  Lydia looked into his eyes and saw the pain he tried to keep buried.

  “Deep down I know God forgives me,” Matt said. “I’m just not sure I can forgive myself.”

  Forgiveness. Trust. Big issues Lydia wasn’t ready to face. She pushed back on the chair and stood. “More coffee?”

  He cleared his throat, wiped a hand over his chin. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She refilled his cup, returned the pot to the counter, then glanced through the windows to the darkness outside.