A Place to Hide, page 1
“First,” he said, “I decide the place.”
“And then?” she asked, clearly skeptical.
“Then, if we agree on the first step, we move on to the next.”
She seemed surprised that he had agreed to consider her plan. He would deal with the official side of this mess as soon as Grace and Liam were someplace safe, and he knew just the place.
“Okay. Where do you have in mind?”
“I have a place kind of off-the-grid. It’s isolated and difficult to find.”
She nodded. “Sounds good. I have a bag with some extra cash and new IDs. Everything we need to...”
As if she’d realized that it sounded exactly like she planned to disappear, her voice trailed off.
“I get it.” He shrugged. “You’re prepared to run if necessary. You will gladly give up everything to keep him safe.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before meeting his gaze once more. “I would. Including my life.”
Author Note
With all the books I write, I love finding the perfect homes for my characters. Deciding on their occupations is equally important to me. The Lookout Inn is based on a real inn on Lookout Mountain. I won’t tell you the name but I’ll bet you can find it. Mockingbird Lane is actually on the Georgia side of the mountain but I loved it so I decided to do a little adjusting. The cabin I gave Rob Vaughn is also a real place on the Tennessee River. It’s gorgeous! Really, I just love charming communities and historic homes. It’s an absolute pleasure for me to get to live in those places vicariously through my characters and stories. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Cheers!
A Place to Hide
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Debra Webb
Debra Webb is the award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, including those in reader-favorite series Faces of Evil, the Colby Agency and Shades of Death. With more than four million books sold in numerous languages and countries, Debra has a love of storytelling that goes back to her childhood on a farm in Alabama. Visit Debra at debrawebb.com.
Books by Debra Webb
Harlequin Intrigue
Lookout Mountain Mysteries
Disappearance in Dread Hollow
Murder at Sunset Rock
A Place to Hide
A Winchester, Tennessee Thriller
In Self Defense
The Dark Woods
The Stranger Next Door
The Safest Lies
Witness Protection Widow
Before He Vanished
The Bone Room
Colby Agency: Sexi-ER
Finding the Edge
Sin and Bone
Body of Evidence
Faces of Evil
Dark Whispers
Still Waters
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Grace Myers—She’s finally found peace and happiness, but will her past destroy all that she’s worked so hard to build for herself and her son, Liam?
Robert “Rob” Vaughn—As the sheriff’s deputy in charge, it’s his job to keep the citizens of Lookout Mountain safe, but can he do that when the bodies start piling up?
Liam—He’s a brave boy and he just wants his mommy to be happy.
Cara Gunther—She is Grace’s right hand. Liam adores her. But she knows things that Grace can’t remember...does that make her friend or foe?
Diane Franks—Chef extraordinaire. Grace trusts Diane completely, but will that trust be her downfall?
Adam Locke—A monster...a serial killer. Grace’s ex-husband is back and he intends to have his son...and his vengeance.
Detective Lance Gibbons—The San Francisco detective who tried to bring Adam Locke down. Has he come to finish the job he started or to make Grace pay?
Joe Pierce—A reporter from Los Angeles who just happens to show up when the body count starts.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Excerpt from Wetlands Investigation by Carla Cassidy
Chapter One
The Lookout Inn
Mockingbird Lane
Lookout Mountain, Tennessee
Sunday, February 18, 5:00 p.m.
The last guest had checked out and the inn was quiet.
Grace Myers wandered through the lobby. Despite having every reason not to ever smile again, she smiled. She loved this place. She crossed to the French doors that led onto the terrace. Never in a million years had she expected to be this happy again. Not ever.
She walked out into the crisp winter air and inhaled deeply.
But she was okay now. Really okay.
How long had it been since she’d really smiled? Smiled and felt it all the way to her bones?
Two years and ten months. One thousand thirty-two days.
Every single one of those days had been painful and terrifying, but the intensity had begun to lessen since Christmas. A part of her had started to get comfortable. Now, this felt like home. Her life felt like her own.
Another deep breath and she hugged herself against the cold. She hadn’t bothered with a jacket. Grace had wanted to feel the cold. To stand out here staring at that amazing view of the valley below, feeling the icy air penetrating her sweatshirt and jeans. It was a welcome reminder that she was alive. More important, her precious little boy was alive. And they were free of the threat that had almost killed them both. They had not only survived—they had thrived.
Grace shivered at those old painful memories before slamming a mental door, banishing them to a rarely visited place. She gazed out over the views from her mountaintop perch one last time before going back inside. Liam would be waking up from his nap soon. He would be frightened if he woke up alone. Though his fear was natural at his age, she couldn’t say as much for her own. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for her to overcome the panic of being more than a few steps away from him.
She closed and secured the door. Then she moved around the lobby and ensured the others were as well. Usually she didn’t lock the main entrance until midnight, but her guests had all checked out and she wasn’t expecting anyone else until tomorrow. There was the rare occasion when an unexpected guest arrived, but he or she could press the doorbell.
An evening of solitude with her favorite little man would be a nice change of pace. The inn had been for the most part solidly booked through the Christmas and New Year season, and busy all the way to Valentine’s Day. At least ten of the twenty guest rooms had been occupied all that time until today. It was a great winter season, and she was genuinely grateful. Just maybe this was a sign of things to come.
Good things.
Honestly, it was still difficult to grasp the idea that this place was hers. She stalled, gazed around the large space that served as the lobby. Hundred-and-fifty-year-old shiplap walls soared some thirty feet to a beamed and vaulted ceiling that still took her breath away. The vintage chandeliers and numerous windows and sets of French doors filled the space with light. The stone on the floor was the same stone that covered the exterior facade and climbed the better part of the far wall in the lobby where a massive fireplace added a homey feeling. It was more beautiful than any home or business she could ever have hoped to own.
When she’d bought it, the inn had been empty for years. The former owners had retired to Florida with the idea of perhaps leasing out the property. The couple hadn’t been able to adjust to the idea of someone else running the inn. Eventually they’d had no choice but to sell in order to prevent the property from falling into disrepair. A vacant home—or inn—lost its soul when empty of people and slowly fell apart. Grace had taken one look at the place and known this was the dream she wanted for herself and her son. She and Liam had gone to Florida and spoken to the elderly owners. Forty-eight hours later, the property was theirs. As triumphant as she had felt at that moment, that had only been the beginning.
Months and months of hard work were required to bring the inn back to life—to infuse vibrancy into it once more. Lucky for Grace the bones had all been there; she’d only needed to tweak the mechanics like the electrical and the heating and cooling systems and then spruce up the rest cosmetically. Finding the perfect furnishings for their private quarters had been the most difficult. The previous owners had taken their personal furnishings with them to Florida. Months of frequenting vintage shops and perusing online dealers had paid off. Luckily the French drapes tailor-made for the many large windows had only required cleaning. The same went for the numerous Persian rugs. The furnishings in the common areas and the guest rooms had been perfect and only in need of polishing.
It had all come together beautifully. The ridiculously happy smile slid across her face once more. She wasn’t sure she would ever stop smiling again. A good t hing, she decided.
Before returning to the registration desk to tidy up, she placed a couple more logs on the fire. Sparks flared and a hint of oaky smoke stirred. Until she’d started this new life, she hadn’t realized there was such a variety of scents when it came to firewood. For the most part she bought hickory. The scent was classic, very traditional. But cherry was her favorite by far. She used the cherry for special occasions, like Christmas.
She dusted her hands together and moved on to the registration desk, where she locked the drawers and ensured all was as it should be. A few taps and the computer system went dark and silent. From there she moved through the dining room. The tables had been cleared and prepped for the next meal, which wouldn’t be until lunch tomorrow, when her guests were due.
She paused, rested her hands on the back of a chair. More lovely sets of French doors in the dining room provided access to the terrace that flanked both sides of the structure where it overlooked the valley below. The view was simply incredible. She wandered there, gazed out for a few moments before testing the locks. Once those doors were checked she continued to the large kitchen. Her chest squeezed the tiniest bit. How she loved this kitchen. Vintage in every way save the appliances.
The back-door lock was secure. This was a nightly ritual for her. A desperate need time would never assuage. Though she had an alarm system, it wasn’t the best. Later she hoped to upgrade, but that was one expense that would have to wait.
With all as it should be, she sneaked quietly into their private suite. Liam slept like a precious little lamb. Generally he was up well before now, but his usual one o’clock nap hadn’t happened until past three. He lay in the middle of the big bed. He had his own small room right next to hers, but she hadn’t been able to move him there just yet. She wanted him with her at night. Some would scold her for the decision, but they had not lived through what she had survived.
Their suite included a small parlor and a kitchenette as well as a nice-sized bathroom. It really was all quite small compared to the size of the inn, but it was everything they needed and she loved it. It felt cozy and comfortable. Of the twenty guest quarters, there were ten rooms with en suites upstairs as well as ten more small cottages that had been added to the property fifty or so years ago. The additions formed a semicircle on either side of the rear gardens. Each cottage had an enviable view of the valley below.
Grace climbed carefully onto the bed with her child. She had never been one to take afternoon naps, but she had been working really hard for months and it was starting to catch up with her. She needed a break. A little getaway.
She almost laughed at the idea. Maybe by summer’s end, late August perhaps, she would be able to afford a short time away. Certainly, that would be low season. Maybe she would take Liam to his favorite theme park. Every time he saw a commercial about the place, he jumped up and down and shouted in delight.
His blond hair was just a tad curly and brushed his shoulders. There were moments when she chastised herself for not giving him his first haircut yet. Whenever they dropped in at any of the local shops, most people they encountered thought he was a little girl, but frankly, she was glad. Being seen with a little girl was less likely to put her on anyone’s radar since the one person who—if given the chance—might ever look for her would be looking for a woman with a little boy. She swallowed hard against the thought. Her little boy’s eyes were closed, but she knew them by heart. He had the most vivid blue eyes. Like the sky on a frosty morning.
Grace closed her eyes and thought of the last time she had seen her father and how amazed he had been by his grandson. William Reinhart had adored his namesake. Their time together had been far too short. The memory ached deep in her chest.
Her father’s sudden death was her fault. She shouldn’t have taken her problems to his door, but she’d had no place else to go. Even now—if he were alive and despite what had happened—her father would insist that she had made the right decision. Of course he would. But she should have taken care of herself—after all, it was her fault she’d ended up in trouble. Ultimately, her choices had been limited because it hadn’t been just about her. She’d had to protect Liam, and to do that, she had needed help. Desperation had dictated her decisions.
Maybe her father wouldn’t have suffered that massive heart attack if she and Liam had run in a different direction. Didn’t that make his death her fault?
Before her mind could come up with an acceptable rebuttal, sleep dragged her into its tumultuous depths.
* * *
HE SCREAMED HER NAME.
The sound echoed through her, sending terror through her veins. The knowledge that she was dead if he caught her shuddered through her very soul.
You’re dreaming. Wake up!
But she couldn’t. She was in too deep.
She had to run faster. But it was so cold... The snow was deep and dragging at her feet; the woods were dense and foreboding. She was lost in the darkness. It was only that damned snow catching the light of the moon that prevented her from running headlong into a tree or over a cliff.
Keep going.
Don’t stop.
The bare trees loomed over her like shadowy creatures backlit by that big moon. A hint of familiarity had hope fizzing through her. Was she almost to the highway? A new burst of adrenaline fired in her blood. Maybe just a little farther now. If she reached the main highway, someone might come along and stop for her. She could get to help then.
All she had to do was make it to the highway.
Another pain deep in her belly forced her to a stop, made her cry out.
The baby was coming.
Dear God, she had to keep going...had to hurry. Her feet began to move again. She stumbled forward. Panted for breath.
Please, please let her get out of these woods and to help before the baby was born. She blinked back the burn of tears and rushed forward a little faster, staggering and lurching. She was so, so cold now. Her feet felt like leaden weights, her legs stiff and unresponsive.
Don’t stop.
She pushed onward. Almost there.
The sound of a car’s engine humming along in the distance gave her hope, sparked her determination not to give up. She could do this! She could make it. All she had to do was keep going.
Grace broke through the tree line. The inky black highway cut a winding path for miles through the trees, snow and ice lining the shoulders and ditches on both sides. She scrambled down and then up from the ditch and staggered onto the slick pavement.
Air sawed in and out of her lungs as she gasped for breath. Had the car passed this point already?
Please, please let another one come along.
She winced as she tightened her fingers into fists, the bones feeling as if they were breaking, her skin numb from the cold. There had been no time for gloves, no time for anything but to run.
He’d shown up unexpectedly, and she’d had no other choice except to get out of there. She’d had to abandon everything. Every. Single. Thing.
The only thing that really mattered was still inside her...the baby.
She prayed he wouldn’t find her before another car came along.
The distant sound of something—a vehicle, she hoped—brushed against her senses.
She started in that direction, barely maintaining her balance on the slippery asphalt.
The sound came closer and closer. Finally, she saw the headlights. Grace braced herself to keep her balance and started to wave her arms.
“Help me,” she cried out, her voice weak and not nearly loud enough. “Help!”
The gush of warmth that flowed down her legs warned her that her water had broken. She grabbed at herself. “Oh, God.”
The car started to slow. She waved one arm, held her belly with the other. “Please! Please!”
The car stopped and she reached for the door handle, her fingers so cold she couldn’t make them work. The door suddenly popped open as if the driver had understood and leaned over and opened it.
“Thank you.” She pulled the door open wider and collapsed into the seat. “My baby is coming.” She turned to the driver. “I need—”
