“Come on. Haven’t you ever helped someone who needed it, Tish? Haven’t you ever felt that awesome feeling that comes over you after you did something nice just because someone asked you to?”

“Yeah. I know that feeling. It bought me three years behind bars. The answer is no.”

She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “I can’t believe you’d pass up the opportunity to do a good deed.”

I whipped my head in her direction. “You’re my good deed, Samantha. You’ve only been here ten hours and I’m already sorry.” I faced forward just in time to jerk the car back in my own lane and miss the set of oncoming headlights.

We made the rest of the drive in cold silence. As soon as the car stopped, Sam was out of it and running for the house.

I stayed slumped behind the wheel. Didn’t Sam realize how much I’d already put on the line for her? I’d been well on my way to making Brad and Rawlings a distant memory. Instead, the life I’d turned down was now dangled before my eyes like a carrot tied to the end of Pinocchio’s nose, with the distance between what I’d wanted and what I now had growing greater with each lie I told myself.

Sam had to understand. I didn’t want her here. I didn’t want to love her or get attached to her. I’d rather be annoyed with her. I’d rather have her go away and leave me in my misery. It wasn’t as if Brad and I were ever going to get together anyway. It wasn’t as if Sam would ever be my sister-in-law. I didn’t need the pain she brought, let alone the agony Missy with her adorable children would pile on.

Oh, what had Brad been thinking? If ever I thought he loved me, I knew better now. He could only be out for revenge.


Friday morning, I lay in bed and listened to the plumbing as Sam got ready for her big job interview at the Silvan Bay Grille. Last night, I hadn’t had the courage to apologize for the “you’re my good deed” comment. A restless night’s sleep hadn’t made the task any more appealing this morning. When I heard the VW bus crank—and crank—then drive off, I figured the coast was clear.

Sam had made coffee and left a hairbrush on the counter—a sign that she planned to stay put despite my testy personality. The remains of the pot made a full cup. I took my steaming drink to the great room and leaned against the cool stone of the fireplace. The morning sky was a sharp blue. A few waves already lapped at the shore, promising more wind to come. Tension drained out of me with the relaxing scenery and liquid caffeine. I determined that today, I’d loosen up a little and try to enjoy Sam’s company. Goodness knew I wouldn’t have it for very long. After August, I’d probably never see her again.

I made the drive to Manistique for supplies. My first stop was the discount grocery. I lassoed a cart from the parking lot and started down the produce aisle. A center bin was piled with a fresh load of grapefruit. I snagged some, along with apples, bananas, and plums. Then I stocked up with veggies, salivating at the thought of stir-fry for supper. I scurried down the rows, loading up with canned goods, pasta, stuffing mix, and mac-n-cheese. Despite the long list of errands ahead of me, I paused at the meat counter and obsessed over the price difference between ground chuck and ground sirloin. I stared at the printed labels, weighing my options, and settled on the lean beef.

From the next aisle came the cries of a distraught infant. My shopping cart had a mind of its own, turning in the opposite direction, away from the ear-splitting noise. I gripped the handlebar and forced the wheels toward the sound. I had no time for detours. The cereal aisle couldn’t wait.

I turned the corner. The crying got louder. Halfway up the row, a woman cradled the screaming child and waved a rattle near his face in a move to distract him from a box of sugared rings that held his full attention.

“Melissa Belmont.” I left my cart askew and raced toward her.

“Tish. Hi.”

She looked close to tears as she glanced around, probably looking for spies.

“Andrew, what’s the matter, baby?” I reached for my church buddy and stuck him on my hip. I kissed his head. The scent of baby powder and formula niggled at a dormant female instinct. I looked at the girl clinging to the front end of the cart. “And how are you, Miss Hannah?”

She let go with one hand long enough to give a little wave.

I turned to Missy. “My grandfather says you’re having a tough time. How are you holding up?”

Tears started to roll. “Not very good. Bad, in fact.” She wiped at her cheek with the back of one wrist. She put out her arms to take Andrew. “I can’t talk to you. That jerk of Drake’s will be back any minute. If he sees us together . . .”

I held Andrew closer. “What’s going on, Missy? Why are you still there? Why don’t you just get out?”

She put a hand over her mouth to hold back the squeaks. When she regained her composure, she rushed to fill in the details, whispering with her back to Hannah. “They took away my car keys. They won’t let me use the phone. If they see me with anyone, they threaten to hurt that person. Anything I do, one of them goes with me. The worst thing is, Drake swears if I try to take the kids, he’ll kill me.” She collapsed into her hand again. “I feel like a prisoner in my own home.”

I blinked, incredulous. “You don’t just feel like one, you are one. Who’s here with you today?” I glanced behind me, pinpointing the convex mirrors in the corners of the store.

“Bill Stigler. They call him Stick. But he just dropped us off out front and said he’d be back in an hour.”

I looked at the layers of canned goods, coffee, cereal, and diapers in her cart. “How long ago was that?”

“About twenty minutes.”

My brain started churning. “Let’s switch carts. I’ll go through the checkout, load up the groceries, then pick you guys up around back. There’s an exit by the restrooms.”

“Are you crazy? Drake’s serious. He’ll kill me.” Her hands wrung together.

Puppa had said sometimes a murder could be made to look like suicide. All Sam and I had to do was keep our eye on Missy and she’d be safe. They weren’t going to do anything crazy as long as there were witnesses.

I switched Andrew to my other hip. “We’ll keep you indoors for a while, just ’til they quit searching for you.”

Terror crossed Missy’s face. “He’ll never quit looking for the kids.”

“Come on. We haven’t had contact since that day at the library. They won’t think of looking for you at the lodge.”

“That’s the first place they’ll go. Why do you think they burnt down your shed? The day he was arrested it was all over town that you were the one who turned him in.”

Missy was right. They’d probably come nosing around my place. But we’d have several hours before they started the search—they’d scour Manistique first. And we’d hide Missy and the kids in the crawl space ’til danger passed. If all else failed, we’d turn to the pros.

“My grandfather will keep us safe.” I laid the confidence on thick.

She swallowed. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl. We’ll get through this just fine.” I passed Andrew back to her. “Take my cart and look like you’re shopping. I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes.”

25

I headed straight to the checkout. The lady gave me a strange look when she got to the diapers and wipes, like I had no business being a mother. I played it cool.

“Those are for my nephew,” I said, stumbling over my fabrication. “He’s coming for a visit.”

She nodded and ran the canned goods past the laser. “How old is he?”

“Umm, almost two, I think.”

She barely glanced up as she held the cereal boxes to the barcode reader. “Those diapers are for six to twelve months. Are you sure you got the right size?”

“Ahh, yeah. He was premature.”

“Okay. If you messed up, you can return them as long as they’re not opened.”

“Thanks.”

She finished the last item and gave me the total.

My face flushed red as I scrambled to count my cash. “Oh my. Diapers cost a lot more than I thought. I’ll have to write you a check.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I scribbled the amount and signed the bottom. I passed it to her. The address box in the upper corner of the check practically blinked neon.

“You’re from Port Silvan, huh?” the woman asked.

“Yeah.” I didn’t elaborate.

“I’ve got relatives in Port Silvan. Maybe you know some of them—the Belmonts?”

I guzzled some air and ended up coughing. Belmont relatives? “Yeah. I’ve heard the name.”

“Here you go.” She passed me my receipt.

“Thanks.” I pushed the bagged groceries full speed toward the exit.

“Have a nice day.”

I was halfway to the sliding doors as she uttered the words.

My heart pounded in my ears as I started the Explorer. Abort mission. Abort mission, the rushing blood screamed. But all I could think about was Missy and her kids, held prisoner by a bunch of thugs. This was America. Nobody should have to live like that.

I pulled around to the delivery door. Missy sprinted out, Andrew and diaper bag in one hand, Hannah holding the other. The Coke deliveryman almost ran them over with his handcart.

“Sorry, sir,” I called through my open window. He disappeared inside the building. “Get in the back and lay on the floor.” I waved my arm to hurry them along.

They loaded up. At the slam of the door, I was off, heading back to US-2 like a getaway driver.

There was silence until we crossed the Manistique River.

“Mumma? How come we’re hiding on the floor?” Hannah’s tiny voice asked the question.