Nowhere to Hide

by Debby Giusti

  “Tyler and I moved into an apartment not far from his school. At first I was too numb and confused to realize what was going on around me. But slowly I started to sense the things that happened weren’t a coincidence. I felt a sinister presence watching and waiting, as if the people who Sonny had been involved with were trying to determine if I had anything on them. There were footprints in the backyard after a rain, phone calls in the middle of the night.” She told him what had happened on the playground. “Someone wanted to frighten us away.”

  “Seems they got their wish,” Matt said.

  Lydia nodded. “We ran away after they tried to grab Tyler. I needed to find a place to hide and let things cool off in Atlanta. I didn’t think Katherine would stay in Ireland so long. I wanted her to watch Tyler, while I went back to do some digging on my own.”

  “Did Sonny have a safe-deposit box or a secret locker where he stashed the information?”

  She shook her head. “I think he hid it on the Web site.”

  Matt raised an eyebrow. “Right under their noses?”

  “At least some of the information. The Web was Sonny’s style.”

  Lydia told Matt about the prank Sonny had pulled at his former computer firm. “Once the boss learned Sonny tampered with the Web site, he fired him. Tyler had just started a new private school and we needed money to pay the bills. I told Sonny I’d go back to cleaning houses, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He told me he found freelance work. I never suspected it involved anything illegal.”

  “And that’s what you were doing at the library, searching the Web site for clues?”

  Lydia felt her cheeks burn. “The librarian must have told you.”

  “Muriel never liked the Internet. She calls me whenever the teenage boys check out the girlie sites. This time it wasn’t a teenage boy.”

  “I needed access to a computer. That’s why I asked to use your e-mail.”

  “I could have helped you.”

  Lydia bit her lip. “Sonny said the police and some of the leaders in the state and county governments were involved. He told me not to trust anyone. And that meant you, Matt. You were law enforcement for the island.”

  He touched her cheek and looked longingly into her eyes. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  Lydia smiled, relieved to have finally told Matt the truth. It felt good to be free of the burden.

  “Let me shower and change out of these sweaty clothes,” he said. “Then we’ll both get on the Net and see what we can find.”

  “Mind if I make a phone call first? There’s a reporter I want to contact. She called me after Sonny died and offered to help.”

  “Sure, make the call. And if Jason phones, find out about Natalie. He took her to the doctor today. I’ll be out in five minutes.” He headed for the shower.

  Lydia tapped in the number of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

  “Features,” a male voice answered.

  “Sorry, I…,” Lydia stammered. “I must have dialed the wrong number.”

  “You callin’ Trish about a story?”

  Lydia straightened her shoulders. Talking to one reporter was hard enough, she didn’t want everyone in the newsroom to know about Sonny and the Men’s Club. “If she’s busy, I can call back.”

  The guy sniffed. “Where you been, lady?”

  “What?”

  “Old news by now. You been outta town?”

  The guy’s questions bothered her. “Look, I apologize…”

  “Good reporter. Top-of-the-line, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, of course. Ms. Delaney’s the best in the city.”

  “No is about it, lady. Was. Trish Delaney was the best. Guess you didn’t hear. She’s dead. Hit and run when she was walking her dog. Neighbor saw a black Mercedes, only no one’s come forward. A real tragedy, you know what I mean?”

  Lydia wanted to agree, but her voice froze. She dropped the phone to the cradle and gasped, forcing air into her lungs.

  Trish Delaney dead? It couldn’t be. And a black Mercedes.

  Oh, dear God, help us all.

  The phone rang. Probably Jason with news about Natalie and the baby. She pulled in a deep breath, swallowed and lifted the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Yeah, let me speak with Matt,” a voice demanded.

  Not Jason’s voice.

  Lydia wiped her free hand over her face. Her body had stalled, and she needed to get it back into gear.

  “I’m…I’m sorry. He’s unavailable.” She tried to sound coherent. “May I take a message?”

  “Tell him Harris called. Roger Harris, Atlanta P.D.”

  Polaris? Farris? Harris? Could the voice on the phone belong to the police officer Ruby had seen at the Men’s Club?

  A wave of nausea washed over Lydia. The room twirled around her, and for a second, she thought she might black out. She blinked to focus her eyes and her thoughts.

  Dropping the phone, she rose from the chair. She needed to get Tyler and run away. Away from the Atlanta police, away from the danger, away from Matt.

  “Ready to surf the Web?” Matt stepped into the office.

  She turned to face him. “Roger Harris called you from the Atlanta P.D.”

  “What’d he want?”

  Lydia’s heart pounded in her chest. “I don’t know.”

  Her hands shook. She pulled them behind her back, hoping to hide her nervousness. “Listen, I’d better go. I promised Tyler I’d have cookies baked by the time he got home.”

  “Don’t run off,” Matt pleaded.

  She avoided his eyes. She’d made a huge mistake confiding in Matt.

  “Lydia?”

  She heard him call her name, but she’d already walked through the door and slammed it shut behind her.

  EIGHTEEN

  Matt waited fifteen minutes for Lydia to drive back to Katherine’s house before he picked up the phone and dialed her number.

  “What’s wrong?” he said as soon as she answered. “Was it the phone call from Harris? The cops in Atlanta don’t know you’re on the island. I didn’t betray you.”

  “Why should I believe you?” she threw back at him.

  “Because I care about you, Lydia.”

  “Don’t lie, Matt. You’re leaving Sanctuary, remember?”

  From the tone of her voice, he knew there was only one way to change her mind.

  “I’ll search the Net. See what I can uncover.”

  “You don’t have to help me.”

  “Yeah, but I want to. Call you in the morning.” Before hanging up, he remembered her phone call to Atlanta. “What’d the reporter say?”

  Lydia was silent for a long minute. “She…she’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Hit and run. Guess what type of car was spotted that night?”

  The hair on the back of his neck tingled. “A black Mercedes?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Lock your doors, Lydia. I’ll be over in the morning. Jason’s scheduled to pull the night shift. I’ll have him patrol your area.”

  Matt hung up, determined to locate any clues Lydia’s husband might have left. Lydia had every right to run scared. Sonny’s death hadn’t been an accident. Someone had wanted him out of the way.

  From what she said, the club served as a front. The girlie shows and pornography were probably just the tip of the payload filled with muck and mire that occurred behind their closed doors.

  Matt tapped in the address for the club and waited as the site unfolded. A sassy redhead waved while a cartoon kitten in the lower right hand corner beckoned the viewer to delve further. Matt browsed through the photos.

  The beguiling looks of the women teased the viewer. Perhaps that’s what Sonny wanted—to tease the owners of the operation by leaving enough information on the site to prove he knew what was going on. Enough information to warn everyone to back off. Insurance, he had told Lydia.

  But something went wrong. Either the owners ha
dn’t found the evidence or they’d weighed their options and put their money on killing Sonny and worrying about anything he might have left behind after the fact.

  It was like searching for Waldo. Except he didn’t know what Waldo looked like. Before long, Matt knew he needed the help of an expert.

  Vic Wallace came to mind.

  Matt found the computer whiz’s Miami number in his Rolodex, dialed and waited until a voice rasped hello.

  “Hey, buddy. Thanks again for that beach towel. Little guy I know loves it,” Matt said.

  “Glad to help out. Good Lord blessed me, that’s for sure. Nice to pass it on. What’s up?”

  “Computer problem. Thought you might be up to the challenge.”

  “Computer challenge?” Vic chuckled. “You’ve called the right man. I’m all ears.”

  Matt gave Vic an attenuated version of the story and what he had done so far. “No telling what Sonny buried. Could be anything.”

  “I’m on it. I’ll let you know when I find something.”

  Matt hung up with mixed feelings. Would Vic find the evidence Sonny had hid? And would it be enough to incriminate the thugs who were after Lydia and Tyler?

  Even with Vic’s trained eye on the job, Matt still needed to try to find the clues. Working throughout the long night, he scanned photo after photo.

  Nothing.

  As the first light of day warmed the sky, he pushed his chair back from his desk and rubbed his neck. Tension had built up over the long night.

  He glanced at his watch: 5:00 a.m.

  If only he had more experience with computers. Hopefully, Vic would be successful.

  The phone rang. Matt raised the receiver to his ear.

  The sheriff’s voice filled the line. “You ever stop working?”

  “Morning, Wayne. What can I do for you?”

  “Had a problem last night with that guy arraigned for the mainland break-ins.”

  Matt let out a sigh. “What happened?”

  “Doused himself with gasoline. Must have struck a match. Went up in flames before anyone could contain the fire.”

  “What? How’d he get the gasoline?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Have Butch come see me. I want to go over everything the guy told him. See if we can determine who wanted him dead. We’ve got a murderer on the loose,” the sheriff said. “Tell your people to watch their backs.”

  Matt hung up, frustrated with the sheriff’s news as well as his own unproductive Web search. Turning back to his monitor, a text box flashed on the bottom of his screen.

  One new message.

  Matt double clicked on the box and read the e-mail.

  Matt. Piece of cake.

  He opened the JPEG.

  Leaning into the monitor, Matt studied the photo.

  Bingo! Vic had found Waldo.

  Lydia was waiting on the front porch when the Davenports dropped Tyler off after the movie and dinner.

  “We’re back a little earlier than planned,” Luke Davenport said. “Heard there’s a storm brewing off the coast. No cause for alarm yet, but might be a good idea to start boarding up the windows. As I recall, Katherine’s house has shutters that slip onto the window frames.”

  Lydia remembered seeing them in the garage. “Is the storm headed this way?”

  “Doubt we’ll have more than some wind and rain. Still, better to be prepared. Call if you need help.”

  The shutters were lightweight aluminum and easy to install. Lydia covered the windows that faced the ocean and left the sliding-glass door to the deck and front windows for later. She spent the rest of the evening packing their belongings and loading them into their SUV. Tyler’s life depended on them being safe. After the phone call from Harris, she felt anything but secure in Sanctuary. She and Tyler would leave in the morning.

  Later that night, Lydia wrote a note to Katherine, thanking her for her generous hospitality and promising to call when Lydia and Tyler were settled.

  Of course, that was the problem. Lydia didn’t know where they would go. Or how she would ever find the men who killed her husband. Trish Delaney had offered hope. Now the reporter was dead. Lydia couldn’t involve anyone else. The stakes were too high.

  Well after midnight, she walked into the guest room and kissed her sleeping son’s forehead.

  Tyler moaned as his eyelids fluttered open. “I had a bad dream, Mom.”

  “What was it about, honey?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  Lydia soaked a washcloth in tepid water, then wiped it over his face and hands. “Did you have anything to eat at the movie?”

  “A hot dog and popcorn.”

  “Any candy?”

  “Chase shared his Rocket Launch with me.”

  “That colored sugar that comes in the space ship container?” Lydia asked.

  Tyler nodded.

  Too much sugar and excitement. Next time, she’d limit Tyler’s junk food intake. Lydia patted his shoulder until he drifted back to sleep.

  Hoping to get a few hours of rest, she headed for the master bedroom where she tossed and turned until dawn. The first light glowed on the horizon when Lydia rose and made her way to the kitchen to perk coffee. A couple mugs of high-test were what she needed.

  As she sipped her second cup, a vehicle pulled into the driveway. Her stomach tightened. She peered through the peephole.

  Matt’s face came into view, and she opened the door before he had a chance to knock.

  “Kind of early for a social call,” she said, too tired to be angry.

  He filled the doorway, lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. His voice carried a sense of urgency as he held up a computer printout.

  “A friend of mine who lives and breathes computers found the information. Names of important people. City council, state government, police. You were right. Sonny buried them on the Web site.”

  Lydia’s heart pounded against her chest. “The evidence?”

  “Some of it. A tease, it looks like to me. If anyone came too close, Sonny could tell them about the names. One look and they’d know he had information on people whose careers would be ruined if they were tied in with the club.”

  Lydia motioned Matt inside. “Is it enough?” she asked, closing the door behind him.

  “No.” Matt walked into the kitchen and spread the papers on the table. “But it’s a start. And it’s enough for us to take to the chief of police in Atlanta. Hopefully, he’ll start an investigation.”

  She looked at the Web site printout and wrinkled her brow. “I don’t see anything.”

  Matt pointed to the pale lines. “See that pattern in the background?”

  Lydia looked where Matt indicated. The letters appeared faint, but she could make out names, flowing one after another.

  “Sonny knew his way around a computer,” Matt continued. “He may have hidden even more information. I’ll let the chief in Atlanta turn it over to his tech guys. They’ll tear it apart pixel by pixel.”

  “How can you be sure the chief of police isn’t involved?”

  “He’s fairly new to the city. Worked in Iraq for a number of years, setting up their police force. His credentials are impressive, plus he’s been out of the country. I’d say he’s clean.”

  “But will he listen to you?”

  “I served under him in the military. He’ll remember.”

  Lydia told Matt about her phone call to Ruby. “Did you see Harris’s name?”

  “No. Are you sure it was Harris your friend recognized at the club? He’s a family man—wife and three kids. There’s a guy named Paris though. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Ruby had trouble remembering the name,” Lydia admitted.

  “See if the Jacksons can keep Tyler and come with me. We’ll be back tonight. You can tell the police chief your story. He’ll listen to you.”

  Before she could explain that she didn’t want to leave Tyler, he stepped into the kitchen.

 
; “Hey, Chief. I thought I heard you talking.” Tyler reached out for Lydia.

  She pulled him into her arms. “Another bad dream?”

  “No, I’m okay.” Tyler laid his head on her shoulder and glanced at Matt.

  “Tyler had too much sugar yesterday.” Lydia saw a wave of tenderness wash over Matt’s face. “You go to Atlanta, Matt. Tyler and I will stay here.”

  “He can come with us,” Matt insisted.

  She shook her head. “I won’t take Tyler back to Atlanta until the danger’s over.”

  “I don’t like leaving you. The list proves the operation is far-reaching. With names that high up, it’s got to be major, perhaps with ties to organized crime.”

  Lydia’s skin crawled.

  “What’s organized crime?” Tyler mumbled from her shoulder.

  “Nothing you have to worry about.” She patted his back and looked at Matt. “Take the names to Atlanta. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  He smiled, and she liked the way his smile filled his face.

  A slow burn started in the pit of her stomach—and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

  Matt pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “A storm’s headed our way. Sometimes the phone lines go down. Use this cell to reach me on my car phone. The number’s programmed in.”

  Lydia slipped the cell into her pocket. “Luke warned me about the weather when he brought Tyler home.”

  “Jason’s still on duty. Call him if you have any problems. And turn on your alarm.”

  “Any word on Natalie?”

  “The doctor said the baby could come anytime.”

  Matt kissed Lydia’s cheek, then rumpled Tyler’s head. “Take care of yourself, buddy.”

  Lydia locked the door behind Matt, her fear returning full force once his truck pulled out of the drive.

  The information proved one thing for sure. She and Tyler were in far more danger than she had ever imagined. Had she drawn Matt in, as well?

  NINETEEN

  Sixty miles outside Atlanta, Matt turned the air conditioner to high and adjusted the vent. The manila folder holding the computer printout sat on the seat next to him. Luckily, Vic had found the hidden names.

  Matt shook his head. Luck wasn’t involved.