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I stretch out, fully clothed, on the bed beside my son. Although I’m exhausted, I need to stay awake to protect Conrad. But my eyelids soon grow heavy, and I doze off. I wake with a start to the sound of the door clicking open.
Clamping a hand over Conrad’s mouth, I roll with him off the opposite side of the bed. I whisper for him to remain quiet and shove him under the bed. On my knees, I pat the bed covers for the baseball bat. I hear the intruder prowling around near the foot of the bed where I left my purse, and when I turn on the bedside table lamp, the desk clerk jumps to attention with my wallet in his hand. I go after him with the bat, cracking him on the back of the head with one swift hit. The desk clerk drops my wallet as he crumples to the floor.
My mind races. What do I do? Does he need medical attention? I kneel beside him and check for a pulse. He’s still alive, and there’s no blood gushing from his head. Calling the police would bring unwanted attention to myself, and I highly doubt the desk clerk would implicate himself by reporting the incident. My best option is for us to get as far away from this motel as possible.
Conrad appears in the bathroom doorway. “What happened, Mommy? Is that one of the bogeymen,” he asks, his nickname for the cartel members.
“The guy who works here tried to steal my wallet, and I knocked him out with your baseball bat. We need to leave. Here!” I toss his suitcase on the bed. “Help me pack your stuff.”
Five minutes later, when we flee the room with our belongings, the desk clerk has begun to stir.
“Where are we going now, Mommy?” Conrad asks as I peel out of the parking lot.
“I’m not sure.” I glance down at the dashboard clock. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. No sense in going to another motel now. We might as well continue to the coast. Close your little eyes and try to get some more sleep.”
“What about you? Aren’t you tired?”
“No, honey. I’m wide awake now.”
Conrad folds his arms over his chest. “So am I,” he says, but a few minutes later, when I glance back at him, he’s fallen back asleep.
Sitting ramrod straight, I grip the steering wheel as I navigate the deserted downtown streets of Columbia. The close call has set me on edge. Although I’m sure the desk clerk’s act was random and not tied to my husband’s criminal dealings, it’s a stark reminder of the dangerous world we inhabit. I should’ve insisted the desk clerk move us to a room at the front of the hotel. I’ve led a sheltered life, and I’m in over my head. I’ve always counted on my father and husband to protect me.
I reach for my phone, my thumb hovering over Eleanor’s contact information. My life is not the only one I’m risking. I’ve placed my child, my innocent four-year-old son, in harm’s way. I drop the phone back in the cupholder. While Witness Protection may offer us a better chance of survival, I will never be happy without my freedom. I sneak another peek at Conrad. And he’ll have a better chance at a more fulfilled life on our own. I’ll be more careful from now on. I’ll buy a handgun and learn how to shoot it. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my son safe.
EIGHT
WILL
Just after lunch on Monday, I’m on my way out of the house to pick up my children from Marsh Point, when a stranger approaches me on the sidewalk out front. He’s an attractive young man dressed casually for the holiday in khaki slacks and a striped polo shirt.
He stops in front of me. “Are you Will Darby?”
“I am. Who are you?”
“An independent process server delivering official documents.”
I glance down at the manila envelope in his hand and back up at him. “Seriously? On a holiday?”
“Happy Labor Day.” He shoves the envelope at me and hurries back to his black sedan parked on the curb.
I watch him drive off before opening the envelope and scanning the top page of the sheaf of documents. Tracy’s parents are following through on their threat to sue me for custody of my children. Everything suddenly becomes crystal clear. Loretta and Clarence Beaumont are the ones pressuring the police chief to charge me with their daughter’s murder. They hold me responsible for Tracy’s death, and they will stop at nothing until they get their revenge.
I avoid the speed limit as I race through town to the historic district. Why is everything in my life so difficult? I’m constantly wading through quicksand, but I can never reach the other side. Tracy was the perfect wife. Beautiful and charming and capable. But even our life together was less than ideal. Am I feeling sorry for myself? Heck, yes. After everything I’ve experienced, I deserve to. I consider putting an end to my misery by ramming my truck into one of the moss-draped live oaks lining Pelican’s Way. But upon my death, Loretta and Clarence would get custody. And the only thing worse than me being a single parent to my daughters would be Tracy’s parents raising them.
At Marsh Point, I enter the house and call out for my sister as I pass through the center hallway to the veranda. Spotting them on the beach, I cross the lawn towards them. The girls are splashing in the edge of the water while Ashton watches them from a nearby beach chair.
“Will! What’re you doing here? I didn’t expect you until later.” She shields her eyes from the sun as she looks up at me. Seeing my tormented face, she says, “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
I drop down to the beach beside her. “Tracy’s parents are suing me for custody of Caroline and Sophie.”
Ashton’s face tightens. “No judge in their right mind would give an elderly couple custody.”
“Loretta and Clarence are hardly elderly. They’re in their late sixties, a young late sixties.”
“Still, they’ll be pushing ninety when the girls go to college.”
“They don’t care. The only thing that matters to them is getting their grandchildren away from me. I think the Beaumonts are the ones putting pressure on the police to charge me. And I played right into their hands by going off on that reporter.”
