Christy Barritt - Desperate Measures

She needed help, and he had agreed to give it to her.

But still, curiosity burned inside him.

* * *

Samantha couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Lisa had died. Guilt continued to pound at her, and she mourned for her friend.

How had she died? What had happened in the moments leading up to her death? Had she suffered? Her thoughts then turned to Lisa’s family, to worry about Connor, to anxiety about everything else in life.

Her only comfort was in the fact that she was here now.

This place was no Hilton. But at least it was a place to sleep. A place to feel safe, if just for a night.

There was no telling how long they’d be here. Best-case scenario: through the summer. Worst-case: mere days.

She’d be on guard. She’d keep an eye on the sheriff, on John. If anyone seemed to recognize her, if anyone asked too many questions, she’d catch the next ferry. If that didn’t work, she’d borrow John’s boat. It was docked on the pier outside the cabins. How hard could it be to operate the watercraft?

Finally, realizing the futility of sleep, she threw the covers back, stood and went over to the living room window. Against her better instincts—in spite of her fears of someone breaking in—she’d cracked it open before turning in for the evening. Without AC, the place was hot. It would be unbearable to try to sleep in the stuffy cabin with the humid, ninety-degree weather. A nice breeze floated over the bay, but the only way to appreciate it was to open a window.

As she stared outside, she wondered if she should have gone somewhere bigger, somewhere she’d blend in. But the island seemed so secluded, like such a peaceful hiding spot. She hoped she didn’t regret the decision.

Then she thought about the man on the boat who’d paid John a visit earlier. Could he have been hired by Billy? Had he come out searching for her under the ruse of trying to buy property?

She didn’t know. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

But those men had gotten to Lisa. Poor Lisa. She’d been such a sweet friend. She’d had no idea about Samantha’s past. She’d had no idea where Samantha was going. She’d been innocent.

Despite that, they’d killed her.

That just went to prove that Billy and his cronies were ruthless. They were hot on Samantha’s trail and didn’t want her to get away again.

Not just that, they wanted to kill her. And if they did, Billy and his henchmen would flaunt it to everyone they could. They would make an example of her, showing what happens to people who betray them.

Killing her estranged husband hadn’t been enough. They also wanted her blood.

Anthony had left her three months before she’d discovered the scheme he and his friends had developed. The two of them had had endless fights over his work hours, his increasingly erratic behavior and the influence of his friends. Financially, they were better off than ever. But their relationship had otherwise gone downhill.

He’d left her and filed for divorce. Then one day, Anthony had shown up at the front door, sweat across his brow, demanding to pick up something he’d left in their home office. Samantha had refused to let him come inside. She’d feared that he might fly into a rage, and she didn’t want Connor to see his father like that.

She’d finally closed the door, and Anthony had left.

Then she’d been curious.

What had he wanted so badly? His visit had motivated her to go through the items he’d left at the house. After searching the desk once more, and in a moment of dumb luck, she’d discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers. Inside were his company’s books. She’d glanced at the pages, and what she’d seen had blown her away. Her husband had been scamming people.

She crunched the numbers and compared the figures to other records left at the house. That was when she’d realized that her husband and his friends had been embezzling from some of the city’s wealthiest. They’d promised a twenty-five percent return on their investments for flipping houses. Instead, her husband and his friends had kept all the profit for themselves.

She confronted Anthony, and he denied her accusations. Then he’d gotten quiet and asked her not to pursue her theories any further. He’d warned her that asking questions could lead to trouble.

Samantha hadn’t listened. She’d thought it was just an empty threat. She’d told him he had two days to come clean himself or she was turning the books over to authorities. Anthony had begged her not to.

Never had she imagined that in those two days, one of his friends would come up with a way to frame her. Nor had she imagined that her husband would be killed in a car crash. And she never would have imagined that Billy, Anthony’s best friend—and a cop—would frame her for Anthony’s murder. He was the mastermind behind everything, the one calling the shots.

The police had brought Samantha in for questioning, and it became clear she was going to take the fall for Anthony’s murder and the supposed part she’d played in the investment scheme. When she’d been let go on bail she’d grabbed the telltale books and fled.

It hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. But Samantha had done it.

Now, here she was today. She’d hidden all the evidence she’d taken with her in a safety deposit box. The law— including Billy, under the guise of doing his job—was chasing her. If Billy found her, she’d pay the ultimate price for her betrayal.

He wouldn’t get her. The fighting instinct in her knew she wouldn’t let that happen. She’d defend herself—and her son—with every last breath. She’d gotten this far.

Samantha had been on the run for the past year. Every time there was a hint that Billy or one of his hired men might be close, she’d fled. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it was better to keep moving than chance being killed. Better than it would have been if she’d stayed and been convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed. Then Connor would have no one. Samantha’s dad was long gone. Her mom was in and out of rehab—in other words, unreliable.

The other men involved just did Billy’s dirty work. Samantha had suspicions he was blackmailing them. That was the way he operated—by manipulation. The man who’d attacked her last night had been a stranger, no doubt someone who’d been hired.

Billy was serious. He was scary. And he was determined to find Samantha.

It was too bad the police wouldn’t help. No, the police couldn’t be trusted. Billy and his friends had planted that money in Samantha’s bank account—somehow and someway. Samantha still wasn’t sure about the details. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. To go online now and snoop around was risky. She didn’t want to do anything to lead the police to her door.

The breeze fanned her face. She closed her eyes for a moment and let herself think about what it would be like to be carefree. To be on this island on vacation. To be able to relax and enjoy herself and have fun without always having to look over her shoulder.

When she opened her eyes, she realized they were moist. No little girl ever imagined at the beginning of her happily-ever-after story that things would go this horribly wrong. Her life had become a living nightmare.

She stared at the moon over the bay. It was bright and luminous. It sent a trail of light over the water.

Samantha glanced over at John’s cabin. The man seemed nice enough. And he kept to himself. That was a good thing. Keeping distance from people was almost a requirement right now. It often left her feeling empty, but at least Connor would remain safe. That was all she could ask.

At least Connor had made a new best friend in Rusty by being here. Good. The dog would distract him and keep him occupied. John didn’t seem to mind.