Page 21 of Hidden Depths

When she bumped into someone, she jumped back and saw it was the same woman she’d spoken to earlier.

“Oops, sorry about that,” the woman laughed. “We keep running into each other.” Then her smile dropped. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta go.”

When she got free of the stalls, she had to cross an open park until she could hide herself, but her hurried steps were like in a dream where you can’t make any ground no matter how hard you try.

The hot afternoon sun couldn’t warm her clammy skin as she continued around the block and onto a path where she felt safe. She stopped to catch her breath.

Margaret had said the fear would try to return, but Sara thought it was her compulsion to continually look over her shoulder—the one she refused to give into—that Margaret referred to. She wasn’t expecting her past to hit her in the face, knocking her back into her nightmare.

As she continued along the path, her anxiety eased now that the crowd and the threat were gone.

A light breeze whipped up, drying the sweat from her face, and the fear finally receded.

Now that she had more control, she reframed what she’d seen. A man wearing a gold watch meant nothing. Rolex was a popular brand, and gold was not restricted to murderers.

With her legs like Jello, it became increasingly difficult to continue back home, and it would be impossible to brave the bus in the state she was in. She veered back toward the beach and sat in a quiet spot while the shock wore off.

Another prick of fear had her skin tingling, and she gave in to the temptation to double-check her surroundings.

She was listening to fear again. She was giving in to it and using it to protect her. But she didn’t need fear to protect her anymore. She had God.

Pressing a hand against her chest, she remembered His spirit that was there now. “So, if I have anything to worry about, do you just let me know? How does this work? How do you protect me?”

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to picture the man she’d seen. Seeing his face hadn’t mattered. It meant nothing to the memory she had of that night. The only similarity was the watch, and a comparable build, but that was all. If it had really been the mystery man, and he was there for her, she’d already be dead. But God was here looking after her. She’d found freedom, and she wouldn’t let go of it. Not that easy.

Chapter7

After gettingthe keys for his rental car, Tom walked outside and winced at the heat. It was a far cry from the tyrannical weather he’d escaped, but it had its own irritant.

He put his suitcase in the back seat and paused to watch two men in dark suits as they found their own rental—then looked at the ground with a disparaging grin. Even on vacation, he couldn’t help but check out everyone around him in case they were a possible suspect for an unknown crime.

Although it was tempting to pursue this ghost of a lead based on nothing but a turn in his gut, he couldn’t discount that it may be the airline food affecting his stomach. He also knew that Armstrong wouldn’t be impressed if he got a call about a lead. If Tom was going to get the all clear to get back to work, he had to take the vacation he was being forced on. And he was determined to enjoy it even if it killed him. Then, when he went back to Chicago with a new tan and a smile on his face, Armstrong would get off his back, and he could return to what he did best. Stopping the bad guys.

Before leaving the parking lot, Tom put Armstrong’s condo address into the GPS and pulled up a search on his phone. He wasn’t much for long walks on the beach or staring for hours at the rise and fall of the tide, but there had to be plenty to do on the island.

While he gave the air conditioner time to cool off the interior, he made inquiries.

“Hey Google, what are some things to do in the Florida Keys?”

He perused the list of day, night, and dinner cruises and kayaking. This was followed by live music and more cruises.

“How about some adventurous things to do in the Florida Keys.”

He scanned the new list. “Parasailing. Huh, I haven’t tried that one yet. There’s one day out of the way.”

If he couldn’t find enough interesting recreation to pass the time, he’d be in for long painful days of restlessness. At least he had a few jobs to do around the condo first. Armstrong hadn’t given him the list of tasks yet, but a trip to the hardware store and some handyman activities would take up his first week if he was lucky.

* * *

Arriving at the apartment building, he frowned. He’d already built up an expectation of the type of place he’d find. An aging apartment complex, probably in need of a paint job with rusty fences and deteriorating siding. This was not that. The building was well maintained with tasteful landscaping in better shape than its neighbors. He pushed aside a sinking feeling as the elevator climbed to the fifth floor. The building was nice, but that didn’t mean the condo hadn’t aged. But as he walked down the wide hall to the door, he knew before he opened the door.

He pushed open the door and stood in the entrance, sulking.

Expansive views of the ocean stared back at him before he sighed and stepped inside.

The living space was modern and tastefully decorated with wood floors and a gourmet kitchen. Quite the inheritance for Armstrong’s wife and certainly not in need of any renovations as far as he could see. He’d been duped.

---