“Your friend’s transfer just came through. She’s sent you five thousand dollars.”
Oh hell.
“That’s more than I keep in the till!” Abby goes on.
Shit shit!
I should have known this wouldn’t be so simple. But Abby is reaching into her pocket again.
“I’ll need to get it out of the safe,” she says, surprising me yet again. Who would have thought she’d be so resourceful? She disappears into a small back office and returns with a fat envelope minutes later. “I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” she tells me. “But I can see you need help.” I swallow hard, then hide my emotion by taking a big gulp of coffee. The rich caffeine surges into my bloodstream.
“Thanks, Abby,” I say huskily. “Do you know anyplace I might get a phone?”
She presses her lips together. “There’s a fella down the road. Runs a small kiosk. For a little extra, he’ll hook you up, no questions asked.” She reaches for a bunch of keys on a hook behind the counter and unhooks one. “This is for Old Betty out front. Take care of her.” She winks.
“I won’t forget your kindness, Abby,” I murmur, squeezing her hand.
“Take care of yourself,” she responds.
“I know what men like that can be like.” Her words make me understand a little about why she might be helping me. I wish I didn’t feel like a fraud. But I’m not really. I’m truly on the run from an abuser. I give her a tight smile before leaving the small diner.
Half an hour later, I’m back on the road with a small burner phone on the seat beside me. I’ve finally managed to track down the number of the agency that runs Kyle’s property for me. I’ve been secretly maintaining the place all these years – my folks never knew a thing about it.
Our little secret, Kyle had said, when he’d put it into a trust for us. We’d planned to spend summers there. And then he was gone. But I never let go of it. Never let my parents find out. Even after they’d shipped me away to a distant cousin who’d helped raise me.
Kyle had enlisted a manager to maintain it, which had proved to be a godsend. The income had helped with tuition once I’d decided to go to medical school – with no assistance from my parents at that point. They still hadn’t forgiven me for “failing” them. Eventually, I’d been able to afford to renovate it, and for the past couple of years, I’ve had it listed on a network for upscale vacationers.
I’ve only been back once since Kyle’s death. One visit, when I’d taken our little chest of treasures and hidden it there, in the small cellar beneath the kitchen. There had been a journal inside it that I’d tried desperately to read. Kyle’s secret thoughts and feelings. I’d been too raw with loss to go through those pages then. And now it’s going to be a place of refuge while I figure this nightmare out.
The passing scenery changes as I make my way to the bustling coastal town, my mind a jumble of emotions. Greenport Village is a quaint holiday destination, its streets lined with craft boutiques and coffee shops. I’m praying it’s the last place that Mark – or my father – would expect to find me. The letting agency is near the town center, and I find my way there with no difficulty.
“You must be Andrea Carter,” a smiling older man says warmly as I head through the front door. The walls of the office are covered with photos of the coastline and other places of interest.
“Tony?” I say, and he nods, coming around his desk to take my hand.
“I hadn’t planned to head out today, but I’m happy to take you over,” he says. I shake my head.
“No need. I can make my own way. Just needed the keys.” I try to keep my tone light.
“Suit yourself,” he says, handing me an envelope with something metallic inside it.
I give him my brightest smile. “Thank you,” I say.
“Just what I need for a few days of downtime.” I turn to leave, knowing if I linger, he’ll start asking questions I don’t have answers to. Folks in these small towns always seem to want to know too much.
“Thanks again, Tony,” I say as I see him open his mouth.
“You sure I can’t take you there myself?” he asks. “It’s no trouble at all.”
“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” I say firmly. “I need to make a stop to pick up some provisions, anyway.” He finally concedes and moves to open the front door for me.
“Well, if there’s anything you need…anything at all…just ring,” he insists. “It’s been lovely to meet you, at last, Ms. Carter.”
The tension in my shoulders barely dissipates even when I hear the door close behind me. As friendly as he’d been, every encounter fills me with dread. Fear that Mark may have got to him first. Which is ridiculous because he can’t possibly know I’d be heading here. By the time I get to the apartment, my nerves feel strung as tightly as razor wire.
The scent of the sea and some sort of room fragrance meet me as I open the front door and let myself in. I should be drawn to the panoramic view of the ocean.
But I’m not.
