Nowhere to Hide

"Not my baby!" In a split second, Lydia Sloan saw everything unfold--the black Mercedes parked in the deserted school yard, the tinted window partially lowered, her six-year-old son's hesitation before he stepped toward the stranger's car. Fear shoved her heart into her throat. She swerved to the curb, clawed at the door of her SUV and leaped into the late-afternoon storm. The wind pulled at her hair and rain slapped against her face as the buzzer on the dashboard blared a warning she'd left her key in the ignition. All she cared about was the alarm going off in her head. Someone was trying to kidnap her son. "Tyler!" she screamed as she ran toward him. Her feet splashed through puddles. Water splattered her legs. She slipped, caught herself, then continued on, desperate to reach her son. Her lungs burned like fire. If anything happened to Tyler, she would never breathe again. Over and over, she cried his name, but the storm drowned out her words. Her son moved closer to the Mercedes. Lydia surged forward, flailing her arms. "Tyler! No! Stay away from the car!" He was oblivious to the warning. "God, help me." She cried. Lightning ripped through the sky. Hit its mark. Thunder exploded behind her. Tyler jumped at the sound. He turned, saw her and stepped away from the car. The door opened. A hand reached out to grab him. Fingers hooked his book bag. He jerked free. "Run, Tyler!" A moment later, he was in her arms. His small fingers dug into her neck. She hugged him tight, both of them crying as they clung to one another. The door of the Mercedes slammed shut. The sedan sped out of sight. Lydia's heart pounded against her chest. Her breath came in ragged gulps as she struggled to control the panic threatening to overpower her. Falling to her knees, she ignored the pouring rain, thinking only about the softness of the body pressed against her. She rubbed her hands over Tyler's shoulders and down his back, wanting to touch every inch of him. She raked her fingers through his wet hair, pulled his head back to stare into his troubled blue eyes and then drew his trembling body even deeper into her embrace. It had been seven months since her husband's death and she had tried to pretend everything would get better. But it hadn't. The pinpricks of fear that randomly tickled her neck weren't her imagination. The footprints in the mud behind the apartment had been real. Someone had been watching--and waiting. Why had the police chosen today to reopen the questioning about Sonny's death? They had grilled her for hours until she demanded to be released to pick up her son from school. But her timing was off. Friday-afternoon traffic and she'd almost arrived too late. Tyler looked at her, his eyes swollen with tears, his blond hair plastered against his round face. "He said he was a friend of Dad's." Lightning slashed through the sky and thunder rolled across the empty school yard. "It's okay, honey," she said, hoping her voice belied the terror that had taken hold of her. A black Mercedes had tried to run Sonny off the road just days before his death. Now, someone driving the same make of car had attempted to grab Tyler. Without a doubt, the person or persons who killed her husband were also after her son. But why? Because of the evidence Sonny had hidden? By taking Tyler did the murderers think they could get to her? Maybe convince her to turn over the names of the influential people involved in the corruption? Names she didn't have. Information she'd never seen. If only Sonny hadn't been so secretive. So deceptive. Lydia pulled in a deep breath as a surge of determination coursed through her veins. She had to protect her son. More than anything, she and Tyler needed a safe haven where they could hide--at least for a few days. Only one place came to mind. "Tyler, we're going to Sanctuary Island."Giusti, Debby is the author of 'Nowhere to Hide ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373442393 and ISBN 0373442394.