He wanted the truth, but how could she tell him about that awful night?

“Talk to me, Lydia.” The warmth in Matt’s voice touched her. She gazed into his eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen before-compassion, concern, empathy. “What happened in Atlanta?”

“There…there was a fire.” Whether it was the late hour or the haunting memory, the words slipped out before she realized. Her palms grew damp. “I got Tyler outside and went back for Sonny…but there was no hope.”

Matt reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She dropped her head onto his chest and let the tears fall. She cried for her husband who had died, for her son exposed to too much pain and for a way of life that had been introduced to an unending fear.

MILLS & BOON

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DEBBY GIUSTI

is a medical technologist who loves working with test tubes and petri dishes almost as much as she loves to write. Growing up as an army brat, Debby met and married her husband—then a captain in the army—at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled throughout the world, raised three wonderful army brats of their own and now see the military tradition carried on in their son, who’s also in the army. Always busy with church, school and community activities, Debby knew it was time to settle down and write her first book when she and her family moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Despite occasional moments of wanderlust, Debby spends most of her time writing inspirational romantic suspense for Steeple Hill.

Debby wants to hear from her readers. Contact her c/o Steeple Hill, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. Visit her Web site at www.debbygiusti.com and e-mail her at debby@debbygiusti.com.

Nowhere to Hide

Debby Giusti

The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know YOUR name will trust in YOU, for YOU, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek YOU.

—Psalms 9:9–10

To my wonderful husband, Tony

For your love, support and encouragement.

You’ve always believed in me. Thank you, honey.

To Elizabeth, Joseph and Mary

God blessed me abundantly with the gift of

each of you. No mother could be more proud

of her children.

To Sharon Yanish, Dianna Love Snell,

Darlene Buchholz and Annie Oortman

Dear friends and outstanding critique partners

To Georgia Romance Writers

Especially Mae Nunn, Jennifer LaBrecque,

Doreen Graham, Anna DeStefano, Rita Herron,

Stephanie Bond, Karen White, Wendy Wax,

Nancy Knight and Carmen Green

To Love Inspired authors

Margaret Daley and Lenora Worth

To my editor, Krista Stroever

CONTENTS

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

“Not my baby!”

In a split second, Lydia Sloan saw everything unfold—the black Mercedes parked in the deserted school yard, the tinted window partially lowered, her six-year-old son’s hesitation before he stepped toward the stranger’s car.

Fear shoved her heart into her throat.

She swerved to the curb, clawed at the door of her SUV and leaped into the late-afternoon storm. The wind pulled at her hair and rain slapped against her face as the buzzer on the dashboard blared a warning she’d left her key in the ignition. All she cared about was the alarm going off in her head.

Someone was trying to kidnap her son.

“Tyler!” she screamed as she ran toward him.

Her feet splashed through puddles. Water splattered her legs. She slipped, caught herself, then continued on, desperate to reach her son.

Her lungs burned like fire. If anything happened to Tyler, she would never breathe again. Over and over, she cried his name, but the storm drowned out her words.

Her son moved closer to the Mercedes.

Lydia surged forward, flailing her arms. “Tyler! No! Stay away from the car!”

He was oblivious to the warning.

“God, help me.” She cried.

Lightning ripped through the sky. Hit its mark. Thunder exploded behind her.

Tyler jumped at the sound. He turned, saw her and stepped away from the car. The door opened. A hand reached out to grab him. Fingers hooked his book bag.

He jerked free.

“Run, Tyler!”

A moment later, he was in her arms. His small fingers dug into her neck. She hugged him tight, both of them crying as they clung to one another.

The door of the Mercedes slammed shut. The sedan sped out of sight.

Lydia’s heart pounded against her chest. Her breath came in ragged gulps as she struggled to control the panic threatening to overpower her. Falling to her knees, she ignored the pouring rain, thinking only about the softness of the body pressed against her. She rubbed her hands over Tyler’s shoulders and down his back, wanting to touch every inch of him. She raked her fingers through his wet hair, pulled his head back to stare into his troubled blue eyes and then drew his trembling body even deeper into her embrace.

It had been seven months since her husband’s death and she had tried to pretend everything would get better. But it hadn’t. The pinpricks of fear that randomly tickled her neck weren’t her imagination. The footprints in the mud behind the apartment had been real. Someone had been watching…and waiting.

Why had the police chosen today to reopen the questioning about Sonny’s death? They had grilled her for hours until she demanded to be released to pick up her son from school. But her timing was off. Friday-afternoon traffic and she’d almost arrived too late.

Tyler looked at her, his eyes swollen with tears, his blond hair plastered against his round face. “He said he was a friend of Dad’s.”

Lightning slashed through the sky and thunder rolled across the empty school yard.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said, hoping her voice belied the terror that had taken hold of her.

A black Mercedes had tried to run Sonny off the road just days before his death. Now, someone driving the same make of car had attempted to grab Tyler. Without a doubt, the person or persons who killed her husband were also after her son.

But why? Because of the evidence Sonny had hidden? By taking Tyler did the murderers think they could get to her? Maybe convince her to turn over the names of the influential people involved in the corruption? Names she didn’t have. Information she’d never seen.

If only Sonny hadn’t been so secretive. So deceptive.

Lydia pulled in a deep breath as a surge of determination coursed through her veins. She had to protect her son. More than anything, she and Tyler needed a safe haven where they could hide—at least for a few days.

Only one place came to mind.

“Tyler, we’re going to Sanctuary Island.”

The night surrounded Lydia, dark as pitch and sinister as the man who had tried to grab her son earlier in the day. Wind howled through the tall Georgia pines and mixed with the roar of angry surf crashing upon the beach as Lydia steered her vehicle down the unlit path.

A flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the foreboding structure before her. Safe haven? The island home looked about as welcoming as a witch’s den with its deep recesses and dark shadows.

She braked the SUV to a stop and pushed open the driver’s door. Fog seeped from the sodden ground as she stepped into the damp night. The smell of musky earth and sea brine hung heavy in the air. Beside the house, a giant live oak stood guard. Draped in Spanish moss, its branches twisted skyward into oblivion.

“Stay in the car, Tyler.”

A pot of geraniums sat on the porch right where she’d been told. She shoved the heavy clay container aside. Groping with her hand across the wet brick, she found the key and folded scrap of paper before she returned to the circle of light falling from the open car door.

Tyler watched her, his brow wrinkled with more worry than a little boy should ever have to carry. Too much had happened too fast. After all these months of trying to get their lives back together, in one afternoon everything had fallen apart. Lydia would cry if she weren’t so tired. And scared.

Clutching the key, she unfolded the soggy paper Katherine had promised to leave with the security code and bent toward the light. Lydia’s stomach twisted into a hard knot. The rain had blurred the ink into an unreadable smudge. A rumble of thunder rolled through the night as if the storm was gathering strength for another onslaught.

“Come on, Tyler. Let’s get inside.”

The boy slid across the seat and dropped his feet onto the wet pavement. “I’m afraid.”

Lydia rubbed her hand across her son’s slender shoulders. She needed to be strong for Tyler.

“It’s okay, honey. Everything’s going to be fine.”

The wind died momentarily, but the sound of the ocean crashing on the shoreline continued. Lydia shivered as she stuck the key in the lock, turned it counterclockwise then pushed the door open. Darkness greeted her.

One step at a time, she told herself, pulling in a deep breath and moving her hand across the wall. She found the light switch, flipped it on, but the darkness remained.

“The storm probably knocked out the power,” she said, hearing a glimmer of hope in her voice. Without electricity, the security alarm wouldn’t work—she turned her head, spied the row of lights glowing from the keypad on the far wall—unless the system was powered by a backup battery source. A high-pitched hum signaled the alarm was engaged, security had been breached. Thirty seconds later, a deafening screech blasted through the night.

Tyler covered his ears to block out the blare. Lydia still held the crumpled paper. If only the rain hadn’t smeared the ink.

She tried to recall important dates—birthdays, anniversaries, anything that might be the correct sequence of numbers. She tapped in four digits, pushed enter then waited for the heinous noise to still.

Frantically, she tried another combination. Then another.

A lump clogged Lydia’s throat as she blinked back tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She wouldn’t let Tyler see her cry.

A phone rang, the sound barely audible over the roar of the alarm. She moved into the kitchen, worked her hand across the granite countertop, knocked the phone off the receiver, then somehow managed to grab it before it fell to the ground.

“This is Sanctuary Alarm Service,” a woman’s voice drawled across the line.

Lydia clutched the edge of the kitchen counter as her body slumped with relief. “I’m glad you called. The alarm—”

“Password, please.”

“I’m afraid I…You see, my son and I—”

“Password?”

“I’m sorry—”

The phone clicked dead. Lydia dropped it back onto the receiver as Tyler moved closer.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mom.”

She wrapped her arms around her son. As far as she was concerned, things couldn’t get much worse.

Then a beam of light sliced through the darkness as someone pushed the front door open.

TWO

Matt Lawson peered into the darkness, saw movement and aimed his gun. “Hold it right there.” He raised the flashlight in his left hand. The arc of light broke through the darkness. “Sanctuary Security. Step toward me. Hands in the air.”

No reaction.

“Now, buddy!”

A woman moved from the shadows. Slender. Five foot six. Shoulder-length blond hair. A child peered around the counter. She shoved him protectively behind her.

“What’s going on, ma’am?”

Lightning illuminated the spacious kitchen. Two seconds later, a clap of thunder confirmed a nearby hit.

Why in the world would a woman and child break into one of the prestigious homes on Sanctuary Island? The woman certainly didn’t look as if she belonged in the upscale community. Wrinkled clothes. Hair hanging limp around her oval face. She reminded him of a stray cat, needing to be fed.

Matt shook his head ever so slightly. The past year working security on the island must have skewed his common sense. He’d seen plenty of female perpetrators on the streets of Miami.

Didn’t matter how pathetic the woman standing before him looked, he’d still have to take her back to the office, question her and, if need be, call in the mainland sheriff’s office.

No reason why this scared wisp of a thing couldn’t be up to no good in coastal Georgia.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Who are you?” she demanded, finally finding her voice.

“Chief Lawson, island security.”

She shifted her weight and stuck her chin in the air. A defiant gesture that didn’t match the glint of fear flashing from her eyes.

“Then show me some identification,” she insisted.

The alarm continued to shriek a warning. Letting out a frustrated breath, Matt tucked the flashlight under his arm, pulled his radio from his belt and punched in a number, never taking his eyes off the woman.

“Eunice, this is Matt. I’m over at 50 Cove Road. Turn off the alarm.”

The house fell silent.

He traded the radio for his badge.

She stepped closer, read the information, then glanced up at him as if comparing his face to the photo.

“Now what’s your name?” he repeated.

“It’s Lydia…Lydia Sloan. And I don’t appreciate you barging in and scaring me half to death.”

Her assertive attempt fell flat. She looked tired and more than a bit confused.

Lowering his voice, he repeated, “You need to tell me what you’re doing here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him, as if weighing her options.

“Katherine O’Connor invited us,” she finally said.

Matt shook his head. “Why would—”

“She said my son and I could stay while she’s on a trip to Ireland,” the woman quickly added, then blinked.

Innocent eyes. He thought he could read people. Hard to believe Ms. O’Connor would have houseguests when she was out of the country.

He looked at the boy, small, slender like his mom, with her blue eyes and blond hair. The kid could play a cherub in a Christmas play and steal the show.

A look of determination washed across the boy’s face. “Don’t you arrest my mom.”

The last thing he wanted was to scare a child. “Look, son—”

“I’m not your son,” the boy shot back.

The woman wrapped her arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Tyler, please.”

Matt raised his gaze. The woman watched him, eyes filled with suspicion, face drawn tight with worry.

“How’d you get inside the house, ma’am?”

“Katherine left a key on the porch.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Kind of makes my job a little tougher when the residents leave a welcome mat out for anyone who happens along.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lydia’s body stiffened. “As I said, Tyler and I were invited here.”

“But Ms. O’Connor turned on the alarm? Now, that makes about as much sense as—”

“I can explain.” The woman held out a crumpled wad of paper. “She left the code for me. The rain smeared the ink.”

He took the paper from her hand, unfolded it and aimed the flashlight. Peacock-blue ink. The same distinctive color Ms. O’Connor had used when she’d completed the out-of-town paperwork requesting additional surveillance of her home. Of course, she hadn’t mentioned any houseguests.

“Funny, she could have given you the code over the phone,” he said.

Lydia shrugged. “I didn’t have paper to write on. Katherine said she’d leave it under the plant. We never expected the rain.”

The woman appeared to be telling the truth. But better to play it safe. A number of homes on the mainland had been burglarized recently. Wouldn’t take much for trouble to make its way to the island.

“Let’s take a tour of the house. You lead the way, ma’am.”

She hesitated. “Is this necessary?”

“’Fraid so. I need to make sure no one else is hanging around.”

“Well, of all the—”

“Call it what you like, ma’am. Let’s get started.”

She sighed, but nodded for the boy to walk with her, then kept her hand on his shoulder as if to ensure he wouldn’t stray from her side. Matt stepped around the counter and worked his flashlight over the adjoining great room.

A painting hung on the wall, Christ in a fishing boat with the disciples, calming the Sea of Galilee.

Matt glanced outside. The cloud cover broke momentarily. The moon peeked through the large Palladian windows that stretched across the back of the house. A ribbon of moonlight glowed along the beach and the ocean beyond. Eight-foot waves. Too bad the Good Lord hadn’t calmed the sea tonight.

“Keep moving,” Matt said, his eyes probing the shadowed corners of the room, behind the double sofas and the Queen Anne chairs.

The master bedroom. Adjoining bath with the largest tub he had ever seen. Walk-in closet.

Everything in place, neat as a pin. No sign of forced entry or other presence. Three guest bedrooms, two baths. A small office, undisturbed.

The tension in his neck eased as he let out a deep breath. “Looks like you two are the only ones I have to worry about tonight.”

The woman whirled around to face him. A streak of moonlight fell upon her face. She was pretty, or would be if her lips weren’t drawn tight with resolve. Right now, she looked like a mare ready to trample anyone or anything that ventured too near her newborn colt.

“Calm down, lady,” Matt said. “No use getting riled up.”

“Look, Mister—”

“Matt,” he reminded her. “Matt Lawson.”

“I don’t appreciate Sanctuary Island’s welcoming committee.”

Spunky, he’d give her that much. “Just doing my job.”

The woman’s anger dissipated ever so slightly. “Katherine is my husband’s aunt.”

Family? “Any way you can prove that? Photos maybe?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know where they’d be. Katherine moved here about eight months ago. We’ve never visited before.”

We? “You and your husband?”

She shook her head. “He…” She cleared her throat, pursed her lips, then swallowed. When she spoke, the words came out a whisper.

“My husband died a few months ago.”

Not what he expected. He looked at the boy. Either the kid was Academy Award material or the story was legit.

“How’d you get past the gate guard?” Matt asked.

She hesitated as if the question had caught her by surprise. “I didn’t see a gate.”

“At the turnoff from the Bay Road?”

She shook her head. “The storm…it was raining.”

“There’s only one way in.” Who had gate duty tonight? He tried to think. Sam Snyder. Of all the luck. Sam should have retired years ago. The old guy had probably fallen asleep in the guardhouse. But why had he left the gate open?

Once again, Matt yanked the radio off his belt, punched in a number and put the receiver to his ear. “Eunice, contact Jason. See if he can run by the guardhouse, check on Sam. And look up Ms. O’Connor’s paperwork. As I recall, she went to Ireland to help her sister-in-law.”

He glanced out the window while Eunice searched for the file.

“Here it is, Chief. Orlando to Dublin. Nonstop.” The dispatcher told him the arrival time.

“Any mention of a houseguest?”

“Not a word.”

“Contact the airport in Dublin. Leave instructions for her to call me ASAP.”

“Will do.”

He parked the radio back on his belt. Lydia Sloan’s story was probably legit, but Matt needed confirmation from Ms. O’Connor before he allowed the woman and her son access to the home.

Too bad Ms. O’Connor hadn’t noted the arrival of guests on the paperwork. Would have made it so much easier.

“Okay, ma’am. We’ll go over to my office and wait till we hear from Ms. O’Connor.”

She bit her lip, blinked and looked like a scared rabbit in a trap. “I…I don’t understand why that’s necessary.”

“Yes, ma’am. I hear you. But it’s policy here on the island.” He stretched out a hand. “Now, if you’ll pass me the key, we’ll lock this place up tight as a drum so no one else decides to visit.”

“It’s late.” She looked at her son, then back at Matt. “We’ve been on the road for a long time. It’s past his bedtime.”

He nodded. “I understand. But we’ll head to my office, in spite of the hour. Wait for that phone call.”

The woman stooped down to the boy’s level. She tried to smile, made her voice sound almost lighthearted. “Okay, Tyler, we have to go with the security man.”

“Can I get my Action-Pac?”

She glanced up at Matt. “It’s a computerized game. It should be in the front seat of my SUV.”

Matt nodded. “That’ll be all right.”

He locked the door as they left and tried it once to ensure it held tight. Moonlight cascaded down the driveway. Maybe the storm had finally passed.

Tyler climbed into the SUV and retrieved a small electronic toy.

“Bring something to read,” Lydia said. “We may have to wait awhile.”

A school backpack lay on the seat. Tyler rummaged through it, then pulled out a book.

Matt watched the boy.

Other than the schoolbag, the car sat empty.

Why would a woman and her son, who claimed to be houseguests, arrive late at night with only the clothes on their backs?

Matt shook his head. It was going to be a long night.

Lydia sat next to Tyler in the front seat of the security chief’s pickup. The road stretched before them dark and desolate. The truck’s headlights cut a path through the night, exposing a roadway strewn with twigs and branches the storm had ripped from the tall pine trees.

Maybe coming to Sanctuary had been a mistake. She’d made too many already. Sonny, their marriage, believing God could turn bad times good….

Nothing had worked out the way she planned. She was too naive. Stupid, Sonny would have called it. But the fact was, she had trusted her husband. And she’d been hurt because of it. Worse than that, Tyler had been hurt.

Seeing her son’s pain was a hundred times worse than enduring it herself. No child should have to worry about someone grabbing him in the school parking lot or whether his mother would be the next to die.

She wrapped her arm around her son, pulled him close, then allowed herself to glance at the security man. The glow from the dashboard lights played across his long legs and muscular body.

She hoped to find a bit of softness in his angular face, but all she saw was determination. The guy was one hundred percent business with deep-set eyes that bore into her like a hot poker whenever he looked her way.

As if aware of her perusal, he turned his head toward her. “You okay?”

His voice rang warm with concern. His eyes seemed softer this time. Or maybe she imagined the change.

“I can turn on a little heat if you’re cold,” he said.

She shook her head and found her voice. “I’m fine.”

He studied her for a heartbeat, then returned his attention to the road.

Thick vegetation bordered the pavement. If Katherine had neighbors, Lydia would be hard-pressed to find them. “It’s so isolated here,” she said, then wished she hadn’t given voice to the thought.

“Private’s the word we prefer. Five-acre lots with plenty of green space. Walk along the beach and you’ll see the homes, each one an architect’s delight.”

She thought about the drive from Atlanta, the final stretch along the narrow two-lane roads. “But so far from civilization.”

“That’s the attraction. Folks here like their anonymity. No one bothers them this far off the beaten path. There’s a little town on the mainland about thirty minutes west of here. It’s got a few shops and restaurants.”

“Sounds like a metropolis.” She almost laughed. “How’d you end up in Sanctuary?”

Why had she asked that question? She didn’t want to get personal.

He tilted his head and glanced out the driver’s window. “Kind of fell into it,” was all he volunteered.

Ten minutes later, they walked into his office. A large, mahogany desk took up the major portion of the room. A bookcase stood behind the leather swivel chair, open Bible on the shelf.

The chief appeared to be neat, organized, perhaps a bit on the obsessive-compulsive side with everything in its place, corners squared, not even a speck of dust. A photo of a young boy, a year or two older than Tyler, hung on the wall next to a row of plaques and commendation awards.

Matt motioned for them to sit on the couch in the corner of the room. He settled into the desk chair and pulled a tablet and pen from a drawer, then turned to face them.

“You’ve got a Fulton County license plate. Still living in Atlanta?”

She nodded.

“Address?”

“Am I being interrogated?” She tried to sound assertive, hoping he didn’t recognize the nervous edge to her voice. “Katherine will confirm that Tyler and I are invited guests.”

He stared back at her for a moment, glanced at Tyler sitting next to her, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll wait till she calls.”

“Thank you.”

“Well…” He looked around the office. “I think I’ll catch up on some paperwork.”

Tyler turned on his Action-Pac and flicked his fingers over the buttons that moved the animated figures across the screen.

“Why don’t I read you a story?” Lydia asked.

“Ah, Mom. I’m almost finished with this A.P. game disc.”

The security chief booted up his computer. “That the new Action-Pac line?”

Tyler nodded.

“Friend of mine says it’s the hottest stuff on the market. Vic calls himself a techno junkie with an A.P. addiction.” Matt shook his head and chuckled. “T-shirts, coffee mugs, screen savers. Anything made with the A.P. logo and he’s got it.”

“Cool. My dad bought me my Action-Pac.” Tyler’s voice was filled with pride.

Sonny had never been one to buy expensive gifts, but he’d given the game to Tyler the night he died. Since then, her son hadn’t let it out of his sight.

As the security chief began to type, Lydia whispered into Tyler’s ear. “Honey, remember when I checked the A.P. game discs Dad gave you?”

“Yeah. You said you had to look at them before I did.”

“That’s right. You gave me all the discs, didn’t you?”

Tyler shrugged. “I think so. Why, Mom?”

Why? Because she wondered whether her computer-whiz husband had hidden evidence on one of the discs, evidence to protect himself before he walked away from the corruption.

Tyler leaned back against her. She wrapped her arm around him, enjoying the warmth of his body nestled close. Her taut muscles began to relax.

Maybe coming to Sanctuary would provide a few days of reprieve, which she desperately needed. She had worked so hard these last months to find out what had happened to Sonny. The fire hadn’t been an accident. Someone had wanted him dead. But who and why? The police? Someone at the club?

She had asked God to help her learn the truth. So far, He’d ignored her request.

The security chief—

What was his name?

She glanced at a plaque on the wall. Matt Lawson, that was it.

Her eyes strayed to a certificate with The City of Miami Police Department scripted in gold. “In grateful appreciation for services rendered.”

A former cop. No wonder Mr. Lawson seemed unsympathetic to her situation. Of course, in his defense she hadn’t given him enough information to realize why she was so cautious. Maybe he’d be more understanding if he knew the truth.

Not that she was willing to explain anything.

Slowly, the tension that had held her tight for so long eased. Her eyes grew heavy. Her mind began to drift….

A phone rang. She jerked awake with a start. Tyler was sound asleep, slumped in her arms. Her watch read 2:00 a.m.

Matt said something into the phone, then smiled in her direction.

“That’s good to hear, Ms. O’Connor. Yes, she and her son arrived a few hours ago. There was a problem with the security alarm.” He motioned for Lydia.

Katherine’s voice sounded tired when Lydia put the phone to her ear.

“Sorry about the alarm,” Katherine said. “I probably should have canceled my trip.”

“And I told you I wouldn’t hear of it. Your sister-in-law’s counting on you,” Lydia hastened to reply.

“Hip replacement at age eighty-two. She’ll need more than my help. I told Matt you were to be given every courtesy. Don’t forget, there are spare clothes in the guest room and a charge card in the desk drawer.”

“That’s not necessary,” Lydia said.

“Buy Tyler a few things for me and don’t be stubborn. You don’t want anyone to trace your credit card. Order anything you need from The Country Store. It’s about fifteen miles west of the island. And there’s a small grocery not far from the house. We can settle up when I return, if you insist.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“You helped me when Patrick died. Fact is grief probably would have killed me if you hadn’t forced me to work through my misery. I know what desperate feels like.”

Lydia blinked back tears of appreciation.

“Plus, I never thought Sonny was good enough for you, but that’s beside the point. The only thing of value he ever did was tell me about Sanctuary. Eight months ago when Atlanta held too many memories, the ocean was just what I needed. Maybe it’ll help you, as well. Now, let me give you the security code before I forget.”

Lydia wrote the numbers on a scrap of paper.

“Tell Matt he owes you a dinner for all the trouble he’s caused.”

“No harm done,” Lydia said.

“The man’s got a good heart, it’s just that his head gets in the way sometimes. And don’t listen to the island gossip. He’s more than paid for his sins. Listen, I’ve got to go, the limousine’s ready to leave for the hotel. I’m praying for you, Lydia. Call you in a day or two.”

Lydia hung up the phone. Unlike her own lukewarm attitude toward the Almighty, Katherine seemed on fire with the love of the Lord. Maybe He’d listen to her prayers.

Matt stood and walked around his desk as Lydia returned to the couch. “The electricity should be on by now. I’ll drive you and Tyler back to the house.”

She nudged her sleeping child. “Wake up, honey.”

Tyler rubbed his eyes. “I’m thirsty, Mom.”

Matt dug into his pocket, pulled out some change and pointed to a side door. “There’s a soda machine down that hall. Connects with the Community Center.” He dropped the coins in Tyler’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” Lydia said, following Tyler through the doorway.

Tyler ran to the machine. “Can I get a cola?”

“An orange drink or lemon-lime. You decide.”

While Tyler studied the selection, Lydia glanced at a glass-covered bulletin board filled with photographs that hung on the wall.

Island Life, a sign read, thumbtacked to the center of the grouping on the wall. Joel Cowan, photographer.

Although she and Sonny had never been to Sanctuary, the four-by-six glossies seemed to capture the casual lifestyle of coastal living. A few photos showed pleasure crafts docked at a marina. Others were of fishermen hauling in their catch and men and woman enjoying the sun and the surf.

Wonder if she’d find Katherine’s face in the collage.

One photo caught her eye. A group of seagulls hovered in midflight, snagging morsels of bread thrown aloft by someone out of camera range.

She smiled at the birds’ frenzy as they vied for food. Two figures stood in the background of the photo. One man watched the gulls while the other—his face cropped off the picture—draped his arm around the first man’s shoulder.

Tyler inserted the coins into the slot. A can dropped to the bottom of the machine. “I got an orange soda.” He ran back to where she stood and popped the top.

The phone rang in the security chief’s office. Lydia glanced through the open door. “Busy place,” she muttered watching as Matt picked up the receiver.

“Lawson.” He paused for a moment. “Why’d you leave the gatehouse, Sam?”

The chief’s body tensed. “How bad is it?”

Matt nodded. “I’ll contact the mainland sheriff.”

Tyler took a long sip of the cold drink, then skipped toward the office, can in hand. “Come on, Mom. Time to go to Aunt Katherine’s.”

“Be there in a second.”

Lydia glanced back at the bulletin board. Something seemed familiar. She bent closer, squinted her eyes. The man in the photo—

“Sonny?”

Lydia sucked in a lungful of air. Her husband was the man in the photo.

But Sonny never had wanted to visit Sanctuary with his wife and son. Whenever Katherine invited them to visit, he would adamantly refuse, claiming he couldn’t spare the time.

Yet, his face had been captured in vivid color next to a sign that read, Help Keep Sanctuary Island Clean.

A picture might be worth a thousand words, but Lydia was speechless. Another lie. Another deception. There had been so many.

She shook her head and thought for a moment. Maybe the photo could be the clue she desperately needed.

If she found out what her husband had been doing on the island, she might find information that would lead her to the men in Atlanta who had killed Sonny.

The men who were now after her son.

THREE

“That wraps it up.” Wayne Turner, the mainland sheriff, midforties and balding, watched as the emergency road crew positioned the last of the fluorescent pylons to warn motorists traveling the narrow two-lane Bay Road. On each side of the pavement, water slapped against the stone embankment.

Wayne turned to Matt and stretched out his hand. “What a night. Flash floods and another home broken into on the mainland.”

Matt returned the handshake. “Kind of spoils the peace and quiet we like here in coastal Georgia.”

“So far, the break-ins have stayed in the dock area. I’ll pull in a few of our more colorful locals for a little heart-to-heart. Might get lucky.”

The sheriff slapped Matt’s back, then paused for a moment. “Heard you’re leaving.”

Matt nodded. “Soon as the Island Association finds a replacement.”

“Big shoes to fill.”

“Thanks, Wayne.”

The sheriff waved his hand in the air and lumbered off to his squad car just as Jason Everett stepped forward. Tall and lanky, the twenty-two-year-old was the youngest member of the security team.

“How’s the embankment holding up?” Matt asked.

“Water’s high, but the northern wall’s still solid. Southern side’s a piece a—”

Matt raised a reproachful eyebrow at his outspoken assistant.

“Washed out with the storm is what I was going to say,” Jason hastily added.

Matt glanced at his watch. “Don’t you have an 8:00 a.m. class?”

“I can skip.”

“Not today, Jas. I told you when I hired you, part-time until you get your degree. You’ve been on the clock for more than fifteen hours. Better head over to the mainland and clean up. I wouldn’t want your professor complaining you smelled up his classroom.”

Grinning, Jason started to walk toward his pickup. “Heard you had a lady friend in the office last night,” he called over his shoulder.

“Eunice talks too much. A houseguest of Ms. O’Connor’s had a little problem with the security alarm.”

“Right.” The kid exaggerated a nod.

“Jason, go home. Clean up. Get to class.”

The young guard wiped the smirk from his face but his eyes twinkled with mischief. He raised his right hand to his forehead in a salute. “Yes, sir.” Dutifully, he climbed into his pickup and headed toward the mainland.

Matt watched the truck disappear from sight. The kid had the makings of a good cop, just so long as his enthusiasm didn’t get the best of him.

Keep him safe, Lord.

The first hint of dawn glowed on the horizon. Overhead, a few stars twinkled, like fireflies on a hot, summer night.

Father, only You know what today will hold. Help me do my job to the best of my ability. Aid me in every endeavor. And forgive me my transgressions.

Lowering his eyes, he stepped toward his truck.

Fair skies and sunshine, the weather reporter had said. A perfect day, except for all that had happened in the last few hours—a woman and child arrived in Sanctuary with only the clothes on their backs and a storm nearly wiped out the island’s only connection with the mainland.

Traveling without luggage screamed of running from something. Ms. O’Connor had vouched for her houseguests, yet instinct told Matt that Lydia Sloan’s story didn’t add up one hundred percent. She was someone to be watched.

Not that he had time to play private investigator. He had reports to file and damage from the storm to assess. He climbed into his truck, pulled onto the pavement and turned left at the next intersection.

So why was he heading north on Cove Road?

Because he couldn’t get the woman’s vulnerable look out of his head.

And the boy? A couple of years younger but Tyler reminded him of Enrico.

Matt pushed the memory aside and focused on the road ahead. At the turnoff to Katherine’s house, Matt lowered his headlights, shoved the gear into neutral and coasted into the driveway.

Lydia’s SUV sat near the house exactly where it had been parked earlier. Light filtered through the curtains.

Either the woman didn’t like the dark or she was having trouble sleeping.

What’s your secret, lady?

Matt stared at the house for a long time, then shifted into reverse and backed onto the main road.

Doubtful she’d be going anywhere soon, especially with a tired little boy in tow. He’d let her rest a few hours, but he’d be back. One way or another, he’d find out what had brought her to Sanctuary.

What did he want?

Lydia peered around the curtain and watched the security chief’s pickup disappear.

Tyler lay sleeping in the guest bedroom, but she was too wired to do anything but pace. She had checked the doors and windows more times than she could count to ensure they were locked, and although her body needed rest, her mind kept thinking back on all that had happened over the last seven months—the fire, her husband’s death, the attempt to kidnap Tyler. So much had occurred in such a short period of time. None of it good.

She had hoped Sanctuary would offer just that. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe her eyes had played tricks on her, but the man in the photo could have been Sonny’s twin. If only she could talk to the photographer. Maybe he’d remember when he’d taken the picture. Hopefully he’d be easier to deal with than the security chief who took his job way too seriously.

Lydia rubbed her neck. She wanted a chance to catch her breath and get their lives back to normal. When Katherine came home, Lydia would ask her to watch Tyler while she returned to Atlanta and continued the search for her husband’s killer.

Lydia glanced at the clock.

Six in the morning.

The Men’s Club in Atlanta closed at three. More precisely, it was supposed to close. Since Sonny’s death, she’d learned the back room activities lasted until dawn and catered to high rollers with money to pay for extra services and live entertainment.

Ruby Pace worked the front lounge. By now, she’d be home in the midtown condo she shared with her mother and handicapped sister, enjoying some quiet time to herself before the other two women rose at seven.

Lydia picked up the phone and tapped in the Atlanta number.

“Yeah.” Ruby answered on the third ring, a tired and angry edge to her voice.

“It’s Lydia. Can you talk?”

The voice softened. “Mama and Charise are sleeping. Where you been? I called your apartment.”

“We left Atlanta.”

“Why?”

“Someone tried to grab Tyler.”

Ruby cursed. “They’re trying to get to you ’cause of that evidence that Sonny hid. The Club hired him to run their Web site. They never expected him to poke his nose around where it didn’t belong.”

“The police still think I started the fire.”

“You tell ’em anything?” Ruby asked.

“Just that there’s more going on at the Men’s Club than meets the eye.”

“They didn’t buy it, did they?”

“Didn’t want to buy it is more like it,” Lydia said.

“Just like Sonny told you. Enough money going under the table, no one has a problem with the police. Real convenient for the cops to look the other way when their bank accounts are gettin’ fat.”

“What about those back room files?”

“Girl, they’re locked up tight. Give me a little time. The doorman I told you about says he wants out, just like me.” She paused. “I’m trying to work a deal. He watches the door while I check the files.”

“Call me.”

“No way, honey. I don’t even want to know where you be hiding. That way Ruby can’t tell the man what she don’t know.”

Lydia shivered, thinking of what would happen to Ruby if anyone at the club discovered she was talking to Sonny’s wife.

“I’m sorry I got you involved,” Lydia said.

“My choice. That night you came snooping around the club, I knew you was out of your element. You got nerve, girlfriend. I like that. Plus, I want a new start. I’ve had enough of this life. Want to move my Mama and Charise away from the city. Get us a little country place.”

“Be careful.”

“You know I will. By the way, that reporter was back.”

“Trish Delaney? What’d she want?”

“Information, just like you. Only she got the cold shoulder and an escort to the door. Maybe you should call her.”

“I…I’m not sure, Ruby.”

“Whatever. Talk to me in about a week. I might have something by then.”

Lydia hung up. Hopefully, Ruby would find evidence to prove the club was a front for something illegal. If she was lucky, information about Sonny’s death might surface, as well.

Whatever Sonny had been involved in now threatened Tyler’s life. Much as it terrified her to hunt Sonny’s killer, she’d do anything to protect her child.

Lydia pulled down the covers and crawled into bed. Just so Ruby didn’t get hurt in the process.

Reaching to turn off the bedside lamp, Lydia noticed a small cross-stitch sampler perched near the clock.

Jesus, I Trust In You, was stitched in tiny Xs across the fabric.

“If only I could,” she mumbled as she turned off the light.

The insistent ring of the doorbell woke her. She opened her eyes and squinted against the daylight streaming through the curtains. Her head felt packed with cotton wool. Too little sleep, most of it plagued with dreams of raging infernos, had taken its toll.

Glancing at the bedside clock, she bolted to a sitting position. Half-past eleven. She had slept far longer than she wanted. Not that she felt rested. Anything but.

She yanked the closet door open and pulled out the blouse and skirt she’d worn the night before. Slipping them on, she made her way barefoot toward the living room.

Tyler stood in the doorway of the guest room, dressed in the G.I. Joe briefs and T-shirt he’d slept in. He rubbed his eyes.

“Who’s at the door?” he asked between yawns.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.” She strode past him, working to control the fear prickling her spine. Surely, no one from Atlanta could have tracked them down in the short time they’d been on the island. Maybe that nosy security chief wanted more information.

Stretching on tiptoe, she peered through the door’s tiny peephole. The distorted face of a high schooler, probably sixteen or seventeen, filled the glass circle.

Mustering her sternest voice, she demanded, “Who’s there?”

“James, from The Country Store. Ms. O’Connor called in a delivery long-distance. Said I was to get everything here by eleven. The storm washed out one of the roads. Had to take a detour.”

Lydia unlocked the door, inched it open and glanced first at The Country Store scripted on the truck’s side panel and then at the same logo stitched on the youth’s polo. She let out a sigh of relief and opened the door wider.

The kid nodded toward the large cardboard box in his arms. “Ms. O’Connor said to send over everything a boy age six might need. I’ve got a box filled with ladies’ things and another one with odds and ends in the truck.”

He dropped the first box inside the door and scrambled down the steps to the delivery truck, where he grabbed two more boxes and deposited them one on top of the other in the entryway.

Lydia reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

“Ms. O’Connor took care of it, ma’am.” He climbed into his truck and waved as he backed out of the driveway.

Before Lydia could close the door, a second van pulled up to the house and an equally enthusiastic teen bounded toward the porch, carrying two large grocery bags.

“Harry’s Market. More groceries in the truck.”

Resigning herself to accepting Katherine’s generosity, Lydia pointed the boy in the direction of the kitchen and watched as he hauled the bags into the house.

“Be happy to unpack the groceries, if you need help.” He placed the last sack on the counter.

“Thanks, that’s not necessary.” Lydia dug in her handbag and pulled out a few dollar bills.

The teen walked back to where she stood by the door and accepted the tip.

Shoving the money into his pocket, he said, “You’re from Fulton County. Atlanta, right?”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“Saw license plates just like yours this morning.” The kid shook his head. “Stupid Mercedes almost ran me off the road.”

The hair rose on the back of Lydia’s neck. “What…what color?”

“Black.”

She stiffened. Not the car from Atlanta?

“Probably tourists in a hurry to get to the beach,” a voice said behind her. Lydia turned to see Matt Lawson leaning against the front porch railing.

“Morning, ma’am.” He pulled the baseball cap with the Sanctuary logo off his head and wrapped a tight smile around his broad face. From the looks of his rumpled khaki pants and navy polo, he, too, appeared to be wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before.

Lydia noticed the creases at the corner of his eyes, more pronounced in the light of day. Although clean shaven, his face was drawn with fatigue. No doubt the chief had not enjoyed the luxury of even a few hours of sleep.

“Hey, Mr. Lawson.” The delivery boy acknowledged Matt with a nod. “Heard there was another break-in last night on the mainland.”

“I’m sure Sheriff Turner’s on top of it, Blake.”

“Harry said no one local would do such a thing.” The teen turned toward the delivery van. “‘Probably dock riffraff, pure and simple.’ That’s what Harry said.”

“We’ll let the sheriff handle the case, Blake.”

The kid opened the driver’s door, then glanced back, a chagrined expression on his face. “Yes, sir.”

“He’ll let us know when he uncovers something. ’Till then, you keep your mind on your business and not the sheriff’s. Hear me? And I want to see you at church tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.” Blake climbed into the van, started the engine and pulled out of the drive.

Lydia stood in the open doorway and glanced down at her bare feet. Her cheeks warmed with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. Once again, the chief had caught her by surprise.

Why did that bother her?

Probably because she was out of her element and scared to death every time she thought of how close her son had come to being kidnapped—by someone in a black Mercedes. The delivery boy had seen the same make of car, not the same car.

Get a grip, Lydia.

She looked up to find the security chief staring at her.

“More questions, Mr. Lawson?” Her voice carried more than a hint of disapproval. “I suppose Katherine called you this morning. She probably told you to make amends.”

He shook his head. “Haven’t heard from Ms. O’Connor today. And I was doing my job last night.”

“Of course you were.” She let out a deep breath, fatigue skewing her good judgment. She was taking out her frustration with Atlanta’s dirty cops on a guy who managed security systems and island gate guards.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was a long night, and I doubt either of us got much sleep. Why don’t we start over?” She stuck out her right hand. “Lydia Sloan.”

He eyed her for a moment before he took her hand and held it as if not quite sure how to follow her lead. “Pleased to meet you, Lydia,” he finally said.

Their hands remained clasped for several seconds. His eyes never wavered from hers.

Self-conscious, Lydia withdrew from his grasp.

“Seems Katherine was afraid we’d either go naked or starve to death.” She pointed to the bags and boxes the teens had delivered. “Bet I can find some coffee in one of these sacks, if you’d like a cup.”

“Mind if I take a rain check? I’ve got a couple more things to do before I call it a day.”

Lydia tilted her head. “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

The chief shifted his gaze as Tyler stepped from the hallway and ran to her side.

“Hey there, buddy. How’s it going?”

The boy hugged Lydia’s leg and shrugged.

Matt smiled, then looked back at Lydia. “There’s a community beach not far from here. Safest place to swim on the island.”

He pointed toward the large picture windows. Lydia glanced through the glass at the jagged boulders and the ocean beyond.

“Don’t know if Ms. O’Connor told you. The water’s pretty treacherous in this stretch of the beach. Rocks look peaceful enough, but they’re riddled with caves. Easy to get trapped. Tide comes in and they flood out. Rip currents are always a problem.”

He glanced at Tyler. “You hear that? Don’t play on the boulders. And no swimming unless you’re at the community beach.”

Lydia watched her son’s eyes widen. She didn’t want anything else to frighten him. “We don’t swim, Mr. Lawson. It won’t be a problem.”

Matt pursed his lips, then looked back at Lydia. “The Community Church is holding a sand castle contest for the kids at eleven tomorrow. After the morning service. Why don’t you meet me at nine for worship. We can go to the contest afterward.” He winked at Tyler. “Bet you’re strong enough to build a great moat.”

Tyler nodded. “I am strong.” He drew in a deep breath and stuck out his chest as if trying to prove he was up to the task.

“Bring a bathing suit, and I’ll give you a few swimming lessons after the contest’s over,” Matt continued.

Was the man hard of hearing? “Mr. Lawson—”

“It’s Matt.” His dark eyes flashed a no-nonsense look that she was sure could intimidate the most hardened of criminals. Well, it wasn’t going to have an effect on her.

Tyler tugged on her arm. “Can we go, Mom?”

“Not to church, honey.”

“You could meet me at the park,” Matt suggested.

That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to disappoint Tyler. A little fun in the sun sounded like what her son needed. What could it hurt?

Plus, she might run into the photographer. She had a few questions that needed to be answered. Had her husband been on the island? And if so, what had brought him to Sanctuary?

Lydia nodded to the chief. “I guess we’ll see you about eleven.”

Tyler would have a good time, but she’d keep her guard up when it came to Matt Lawson. Law enforcement wasn’t to be trusted. That included the security chief.

“Hey, Chief Lawson,” the kids called from the picnic area as Matt pulled his pickup into the parking lot the following day.

Six boys, five girls, with probably more petty cash at their disposal than Matt had in his savings. Good kids who could use a little more attention from their jet-set parents. That’s why he worked with the church to organize activities. He knew firsthand the change a good role model could make in a kid’s life. Not that his family was rich. Far from it. But he’d been on a fast track to nowhere until his church youth director showed Matt the positive impact of putting Christian love into action.

Now, it was payback time.

Plus, he liked kids.

“Savannah and Mark, you team up with Josh. Spread out to the left on the sand.” He outlined the spots two more groups would use before he pulled aside the boys he wanted to match up with Tyler.

“You guys ready to build a sand castle?”

They both nodded.

“I’ll give you a hand until your teammate arrives. His name’s Tyler. He’s new on the island, staying at Ms. O’Connor’s house.” Matt tossed each of the boys a plastic shovel and drew a circle in the sand, outlining the moat. Dropping to his knees next to the boys, he began to dig.

Every few minutes, Matt eyed the road for passing cars.

Where were they? He’d given Lydia directions. Surely she couldn’t be lost. The main road ran north and south along the water. No one could miss the beach. Maybe he’d placed too much confidence in her rather hesitant agreement to meet him at the park.

Lydia tried to put up a good front, but under the surface, she acted like a skittish colt. Something had her spooked big-time. But what?

The kids worked hard, intent on the task at hand. A breeze blew from the water and sea gulls called from overhead. All in all the activity was going well.

So why was he letting a stranger sour his mood? This time, he’d make sure a pretty face didn’t lull him off course.

“I thought you wanted me to build the moat,” a voice said behind him.

Matt turned to see Tyler standing back from the group, head drooped almost to his chest. Lydia stood next to the child, her arms filled with beach towels.

“Hey, Tyler, I was just helping out until you and your mom arrived. I told the other guys you’d be here soon.”

Matt pointed to a boy with red hair and a face full of freckles. “This is Bobby Jackson.” He indicated a pudgy boy with a gelled flattop. “And Chase Davenport. Bobby lives next to your great aunt and Chase is two doors down. I thought since you guys are neighbors, it’d be nice for you to work together on the castle.”

Bobby handed Tyler a plastic shovel. “You can use this.”

“Thanks.” Tyler took the shovel and began deepening the moat.

Matt brushed the sand from his hands and knees, nodding to Lydia. “Have any trouble finding us?”

“No problem. We stopped at the library first.”

Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, tied with a red ribbon that matched the red shorts and polka-dot blouse she wore. She looked fresh and clean and smelled much sweeter than the kids playing in the sand.

“I wasn’t sure we should do this, but—” she glanced at her son “—Tyler really wanted to be here.”

“I’m glad you came,” Matt said. “Otherwise, I’d be one kid short.” He held out his hand for a beach towel. “Need some help?”

“Thanks.” She handed him a green towel with pink stripes.

He spread it out not far from where Tyler’s team worked, totally absorbed in their project. Lydia sat down.

“May I join you?” he asked.

“Tyler won’t mind if you use his towel.” She handed him another one, which he spread on the sand.

“You must have left Atlanta in a hurry.” Matt tried to sound nonchalant, fishing to catch a tidbit of information.

Lydia shrugged. “A spur-of-the-moment invitation. Katherine thought Tyler and I could use a vacation.”

“The woman’s got a big heart.”

Lydia nodded. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her.”

“From what I know of Ms. O’Connor, that’s probably the last thing she wants.”

Lydia tilted her head and smiled. For an instant, the tension left her face and her eyes twinkled.

Pretty, but with a wary edge. She should be baking cookies and cheering at Little League games, not running from something…or someone.

He shook off the foolish thought and checked his watch. “Ten minutes left to work,” he called to the kids before turning back to Lydia. “Some of the parents should be showing up soon. A few of the moms and dads set up grills and cook hot dogs and hamburgers for the kids.”

“Is this part of your security chief duties?”

He laughed. “In a roundabout way. Helping kids get a good start in life makes for better citizens in the future.”

“So you’re helping out?”

“Trying to. The kids are great. And the parents are getting more involved. So far it’s been win-win.”

Car doors slammed. Matt glanced in the direction of the sound. “There’s Chase’s dad and Bobby’s parents. Nice people. The Jacksons are Katherine’s next-door neighbors.”

An attractive, thirty-something couple waved to Matt. “Good job, Bobby,” the man called out. The boy sprang to his feet and ran to hug his dad.

“It’s got a moat and two turrets and it’s bigger than the other kids’ castles,” the boy gushed.

Bobby’s mother rumpled her son’s red hair and then walked to where Lydia and Matt were rising from the beach towels.

“Sarah Jackson,” Matt said. “I’d like you to meet Lydia Sloan. She and her son, Tyler, are staying at Katherine O’Connor’s place for a while.”

With a quick smile, warm eyes and auburn hair the color of her son’s, Sarah reached out for Lydia’s hand. “Welcome to Sanctuary. Bobby’s going to love having a friend next door. The two of them can play together.”

Matt watched Lydia take a step back. The overt offer of friendship seemed to overwhelm the newcomer.

“We’re having a sleepover next Saturday,” Sarah continued. “Why don’t you let Tyler spend the night?”

“Thanks for inviting him, but I’m…I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying here.”

“This is my husband, Rob.” Sarah turned to greet a solidly built man who walked up to the group.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said to Lydia as they shook hands. Turning to Matt, he asked, “Any word on the road repairs?”

“Won’t take long once the crew gets started. Right now, they’re working on the main county access road. We’re next in line. I’ll let you know if I hear anything different.”

“Sounds good,” Rob said.

Luke Davenport stepped forward and extended his hand to Lydia. “I’m Chase’s dad. Welcome to Sanctuary.”

“Luke’s head of the Island Association,” Matt added. “He oversees just about everything that happens on Sanctuary.”

Luke slapped Matt’s back. “Having a good security chief helps.”

Matt appreciated the compliment. “Did you get that request I sent over to your office?”

“Don’t suppose I could change your mind?”

Matt shook his head. “I told you a year when I signed on.”

“Give me a couple weeks.” Luke turned to Lydia. “Nice meeting you, ma’am.”

Matt glanced at his watch, then walked to the center of the castle-building area and held up his hands.

“Time’s up, everyone. Brush yourselves off and then look at what the other teams have done. We’ll get the grills going and have some lunch after the announcement of the winning castles.”

The smell of charbroiled burgers filled the air a short time later. A number of the parents hovered around the grills, talking about the Friday night storm.

Lydia stood by herself near where Tyler and the boys played.

Matt had asked the church youth director to judge the sand castles and expected him to arrive at any minute. The kids were hungry, but Matt wanted to announce the winner before they gave thanks and got their food.

The youth director pulled into the parking lot. Matt looked up as a black Mercedes zipped along the road, heading south.

“Okay, kids, gather round.” The children circled Matt, all except Tyler.

Matt’s eyes searched the now-crowded picnic area, but he didn’t see Lydia or the boy.

Tires screeched against the blacktop.

Matt glanced around in time to see Lydia’s SUV race out of the parking lot, heading north.

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