Nowhere To Hide. Debby Giusti

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