Tara Quinn - Hidden

A brunette who’d lost twenty pounds in the past fifteen months wearing store-bought clothes and big plastic sunglasses.

Up the beach a couple of yards was a road access. Tricia took it, not once looking back. She didn’t know that man and child, had never seen them before in her life. Leaving them was nothing to her.

God, let me escape before Taylor sees me. Calls out to me. Let me go before Scott notices….

She didn’t breathe until she made it to the street—and then almost passed out with dizziness. She walked on. Half a mile. Maybe more. Unhurried, glancing at the flowering bushes, the palm trees lining the road. The resorts in the distance. Maybe she was on vacation. Or perhaps she was there on business.

Maybe her folks had a condo on Coronado Island.

Yeah, that was it. A condo. She could play that role. Had to play a role in her mind if she was to give the appearance of being someone else. A woman on the run looked like a woman on the run—a woman whose body was so filled with fear it hurt her muscles to move.

Tricia was a woman visiting her parents’ condo. Appearances were everything. They had to be. Without them, she and Taylor would’ve been dead two years ago.

A car passed. A light-blue Toyota. Going too fast. Probably because a high-school-age boy was driving. He had a young girl in the passenger seat.

No sign of the man. She couldn’t be sure he wasn’t behind her, though. She didn’t hear footsteps. Didn’t see shadows.

Pulling her bag over her shoulder while she walked, Tricia took out a tissue, dropping the pack in the gravel. Bending to pick it up, she looked back between her legs. And saw the dress slacks. He’d stopped, too. Was leaning against a lamppost, lighting up a cigarette. His hair was blond. And too long. He needed a shave. And he should lose about thirty pounds.

Mouth dry, Tricia was sweating beneath the sun as though it were midsummer rather than a balmy April day.

Scott and Taylor would have noticed her missing by now. Scott would be worried. She’d have to come up with something damn good to explain this. An urgent need for a bathroom might do it. Guys didn’t usually ask questions when a woman needed to take care of personal matters.

The man was still there, facing in her direction.

If she had to, she could always meet up with Scott at the house later. He’d return there eventually. It would be better, though, if she could get to a phone and call his cell. He always had it with him in case of an emergency at the station. The bathroom excuse would be more credible if she called him.

If she had a chance. She was away from Taylor now. It might be the perfect time to get her. After all, she was the commodity; the baby had been unnecessary baggage.

She walked on. She could feel the man following behind her. Was he merely visiting relatives on the island? Stopping for a smoke because he had the time and nothing better to do? Still, she’d spent countless hours on Coronado Beach since arriving in San Diego and she hadn’t seen many vacationers there in dress slacks and shoes.

None that she could remember.

Maybe she was overreacting. It wouldn’t be the first time since this nightmare had consumed what had once been a satisfying life.

And yet, what if she didn’t react? What if she grew complacent, quit watching, quit taking action—and was found?

Tricia turned onto the next major street, strolling slowly—and watching. The possible price if she relaxed her vigilance was too high to pay.

She was a woman on vacation at her parents’ condo. She’d go to her grave with that story if she had to. If it meant Taylor lived.

“H i, it’s me.”

“Trish? Oh, my God. Thank God.” He’d picked up his cell phone on the first ring. “Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”

It was worse than she’d thought. He was more upset than she realized he’d be. After all, it wasn’t as if they had any kind of commitment to each other. Or expectations. She was just a woman he’d picked up in a bar, slept with, shacked up with, no strings attached. She’d only been gone half an hour. And he had to have known she’d come back for Taylor.

Which meant he was just plain concerned.

And that wasn’t good.

“I’m fine,” she said, her chest still tight with tension as she peered around her from the pay phone on the patio at the Coronado Del—one of the island’s plushest resorts. Tricia’s favorite, not that she had anyone in her life she could share that with.

“Where are you?” She could hear Taylor babbling happily in the background. The baby’s chatter made it easier to take the note of anger edging into Scott’s voice.

“At the Hotel Del. My stomach was upset and I had to find a bathroom, fast.” Not at all sexy or glorious. But, as it turned out, the truth. And better yet, a truth that would work as a perfect cover now that the danger, if there’d been any, had apparently passed.

When she’d veered into the Del, the man who’d been behind her disappeared.

“I would’ve driven you!”

“I know, but Taylor was having so much fun and I didn’t think it was this far.”

Lame. Too lame. Scott wasn’t a stupid man.

“You’re half a mile away!”

He was talking like a husband.

“I’m really sorry, Scott.” About so many things that were out of her control. “I thought there was a public restroom at the top of the road,” she lied, “but it was closed for renovation and by that time I figured it would be quicker to walk to the next place rather than turn around and go all the way back to you and then have to hike to the car. I had no idea it would take me this long to find a public restroom.”

Please don’t let there be a sign for one on the road, making this an obvious lie.

Things were getting too difficult.

Scott’s sigh was long and clearly distinguishable. She could hear her son babbling in the background.

“Mama?” She recognized the warning tone of impending upset in Taylor’s baby sounds.

“She’s right here, sport.” Scott’s voice was kind, reassuring. “Okay.” The word was louder as he spoke into his phone. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Turning her back to the pay phone, nestled into the half-booth along a wall on the edge of the courtyard, Tricia took one more glance around, just in case.

The stricture on her chest loosened a little more. “Yeah,” she said, “me, too.” And then added, “I’m really sorry.” More than he’d ever know.

“You don’t need to apologize, love. I overreacted.” He sounded so sincere; he was accepting this so easily. “Is your stomach better?”

“Yeah.”

“Then walk out front. We’re pulling up now. We missed you and want you back.”

Tricia had to blink back tears as she hung up the phone, avoiding the eyes of the guests she passed on her way through the resort. If she’d still been free to indulge in dreams, Scott would have been the star of every one of them.

Scott thought he’d had himself completely under control. He’d put the episode behind him. Was completely on board with the program. He and Tricia were ships passing in the night. So it was turning out to be a longer night than he’d figured, they were still just passing.

She owed him nothing. And he wanted nothing except the moments she was with him.

Lying in bed on Saturday night, staring at the shapes of moonlight and dark gray shadows on the ceiling, he willed himself to let it go.

God, it was hot. Kicking off the covers he lay there, nude and exposed. But it wasn’t the physical exposure that had him feeling so raw.

Arms beneath his head, he closed his eyes. Told himself to rest, something eleven years on the department had taught him to do on command. He instantly saw a vision of Tricia—lying on the beach, bleeding. In the first run-through she’d been mugged. Her clothes were torn, that bag she’d sewn and been so proud of was gone, she was bruised, but otherwise all right. She heard Taylor call out to her and opened her eyes, focusing. A small smile spread over her face as she reached out a hand….