Desperate Measures. Christy Barritt

to excuse herself before her face gave way any more of her thoughts.

      “Go right ahead. I’ll finish cooking these fish. Dinner will be ready in no time.”

      She stood and plodded through the sand, going far enough away that John wouldn’t be able to hear any of her conversation.

      She walked toward the shoreline, noting how Connor dug holes in the sand not far away. Still searching for buried treasure. She smiled sadly as she looked over at him.

      Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a cheap track phone she’d bought from the gas station beside the hotel last night. She’d needed to call a few people, but she didn’t want to be traced. She’d thrown her old phone into a river, trying to take every precaution possible not to be tracked.

      She wished she could simply walk away from her life in Yorktown and disappear. But her boss was counting on her. He might call the police if she simply left without a word. And Connor’s summer school teacher would worry if he just stopped going to classes. It was best she covered her tracks and made everyone think this was a last-minute trip. That way no one would call the police. The last thing she needed was a missing-persons report.

      She cleared her throat and dialed her boss’s number. A moment later, Hank came on the line. “Samantha, where are you?”

      “I’m sorry, Hank. Something’s come up. A family emergency.”

      “Man, Samantha, I’m sorry to hear that. Talk about awful timing, all the way around.”

      She bristled. “What do you mean?”

      “You heard about Lisa, right?”

      Samantha’s muscles constricted. Lisa had promised not to say a word about their meeting. And Samantha hadn’t even told Lisa where she was going. The fewer people who knew, the better. She’d only asked Lisa for a ride because she couldn’t risk keeping her car. The thug who’d attacked her had seen the vehicle. He knew her license plate.

      “No, I didn’t hear.” Her throat burned with the words.

      “She died last night. She ran off the side of the road, apparently. No one really knows what happened. Rumor has it that she had some drugs in her system.”

      “Lisa didn’t do drugs,” Samantha said. “You know that.”

      And Lisa hadn’t been high when she’d helped Samantha. An inkling of the truth began to creep into her mind. Someone had killed her and covered their tracks. Just like someone had killed Anthony and made Samantha look guilty.

      “She’s gone. I can’t believe it. And now you’re not here. I don’t know what I’ll do without you two ladies.”

      “I’m sorry, Hank. I really am.”

      “Come back as soon as you can, you hear?”

      “You got it.”

      As she hung up, cold, stark fear swept over her.

      Lisa... Not Lisa. This was Samantha’s fault. She’d put her friend in danger. She should have been more careful, tried to be more independent.

      Now her friend was dead.

      Guilt pounded at her conscience. If she could only go back, she’d do things differently. She’d keep her friend out of this.

      But it was too late to change anything of that.

      She’d managed to escape these thugs before. Why did she feel as if her time had run out? All of the running in the world wouldn’t make her feel safe right now.

       FOUR

      John noticed the change in Samantha when she returned from her phone call. He wondered what kind of conversation she’d had. He hadn’t missed the pallor that had come over her at the mention of Texas, either.

      He kept reminding himself to mind his own business. But minding his own business wouldn’t help keep anyone safe.

      Just then, Lulu appeared down the sandy walkway leading to the cabins, a large dog pulling her along.

      His dog.

      Rusty was a rowdy Australian Shepherd he’d found wandering outside his house three months ago. The dog hadn’t gone away, so eventually John had adopted him. Now it followed him everywhere, perhaps as his eternal way of saying thanks.

      John liked to grumble about the dog, but he had to admit that Rusty had become a faithful companion. Lulu was the island’s local groomer, and John had dropped Rusty off with her this morning after she’d promised a free first visit.

      “Hello, there!” Lulu called. Lulu was a heavyset woman with orange hair and too much makeup. But she was a friendly soul.

      Rusty broke free from the leash and stampeded over to jump on John. The dog’s tail wagged and he continued to jump, sixty-five pounds of hyper joy. John grabbed the leash before the dog greeted Samantha and Connor with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

      “A dog!” Connor exclaimed.

      Connor giggled in delight when Rusty began licking his face. A moment later, Connor and Rusty took off running down the shoreline together. John thanked Lulu, who looked exhausted, and then turned back to Samantha.

      “You’ve just made a friend,” Samantha mumbled. “Connor has wanted a dog forever.”

      “Rusty’s been wanting a little boy to call his person for a long time, too, so they should get along just fine.”

      John finished cooking, and when Connor came to join them, something nearly impossible happened. Rusty followed him and stayed at Connor’s feet. The canine didn’t run off or even look longingly down the shoreline in search of seagulls or other critters.

      Traitor.

      They all sat down at a weathered picnic table in front of John’s cabin. He’d thrown an old sheet over the benches, hoping no one would get a splinter. Funny how he hadn’t given that a second thought up until a few hours ago.

      “What’s there to do around here?” Connor asked, taking a bite of his burger. John had cooked a couple, just in case Connor didn’t like flounder.

      John looked at the water. “Go to the beach, fish, crab.”

      “That sounds boring. Well, maybe not the beach. Not if I have a boogie board. Do you have a boogie board I could borrow?”

      “I might be able to scrounge one up for you. But have you ever tried fishing?” John took a sip of his soda, amused by the boy’s expressive face.

      He shook his head.

      “Well, I’ll show you sometime.” Great, he was making promises. That was something he’d vowed not to do. He didn’t want anyone depending on him, especially not Samantha.

      “Can I put the worm on the hook?” The boy’s eyes were wide with excitement.

      John glanced at Samantha. A halfway amused expression feathered across her face.

      “Do you want to put the worm on the hook?” John asked.

      Connor nodded, mustard from his burger slathered across his top lip. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. “I do.”

      “Then definitely.”

      “What else is there to do?”

      John looked off in the distance again. Those weren’t questions he’d thought about. He’d only been focused on his cabins. “Some boys in town like to play kickball. You ever played?”

      “No, I just do karate.”

      “Well, maybe you can teach them some karate, and they’ll invite you to their kickball games. How does that sound?”

      He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”