Low Country Hero

PROLOGUE

Twenty Years Ago

WALKING FROM THE small-town grocery store back toward their new home at the Safe Haven Women’s Shelter, Rita O’Dwyer felt her shoulders start to relax. Maybe this was going to be okay. For her boys, and even, maybe, for her.

They passed a little tourist stand, full of South Carolina beach trinkets and toys.

Mom, can we go in? her middle boy, Cash, pleaded. Please? I want to see what they’ve got. He was the most driven of her three sons, and she always joked that he’d become a billionaire, but his strong focus worried her a little. Today, like any other kid, he just wanted to see the toys.

She paused. Even her oldest, Sean, leaned past his brothers to look in the little shop, and of course her baby, Liam, joined in the begging. Please, Mommy? There’s swords and stuff!

They sounded like normal kids. Normal, wonderfully whiny kids, and she couldn’t resist their request.

She ached with the desire to give her boys a carefree childhood.

While the boys looked at the beachy souvenirs, Rita fingered a little five-dollar necklace, with a sea turtle, a shark’s tooth and a palm tree. If she could spare the money, she’d buy it for herself. A symbol of her new life, away from Alabama and Orin.

She gave her head a little shake and bent down to look at the candy. After the long hours in the car and the strangeness of setting up housekeeping in a women’s shelter, they all needed a treat. And candy was cheap.

You don’t want that ordinary stuff, ma’am, said the tall, stoop-shouldered clerk. You’ll want some real Carolina pralines for your boys. As he spoke, he slid three caramel-colored candies into a bag. And for you… He plucked the necklace she’d been studying from the stand and held it out to her.

Oh no! We can’t afford all that! What was this guy’s agenda?

He smiled with an expression of wisdom and sympathy older than his years. Just consider it a little Southern hospitality. Y’all look like you need a lift.

For some reason, she trusted him. Again, hope rose in her. Maybe this was all going to work out. Thank you. You’re very kind.

She’d just taken the bag and turned to locate the boys when she felt something poke into her side. A familiar, sickeningly strong cologne assaulted her.

Orin.

Silent terror exploded inside her, making her head spin and her stomach heave with nausea. She looked around frantically. There were Liam and Cash, fingering the crocodile heads on sticks. But where was Sean? He had to get the other boys to safety, now.

How had Orin found them so quickly? And what new punishment would he inflict on her and, worse, on the boys?

You’re not leaving me. Orin’s voice was a quiet snarl.

Everything okay, miss? the clerk asked from behind her.

You tell him it’s fine and come with me, Orin said into her ear, or I’ll kill him, and then those worthless boys, and then you.

She nodded back to the clerk, forcing a sick smile across her face. I’m fine. Her chest seemed to crumple inward, as if all the backbone she’d tried to build in herself, all her bones, turned to jelly.

Her dreams and plans to save her children faded, then disappeared.

Orin pulled her along like they were normal people in a hurry, jamming the gun into her side. As he reached the pickup and opened the door to shove her inside, she saw Sean, squatting on the sidewalk, caught up in his favorite battered military novel, one of the few possessions he’d insisted on bringing along when they’d fled Alabama.

There were people out on the street, shopping and chatting. Should she scream? Or would that incite Orin even further? He was shaking, his face red with fury. She’d never seen him this bad. Her head spun; her heart thudded.

Think. No. She couldn’t expect help from strangers—not without endangering them and the kids, too—but she had to get Sean’s attention. Oh, Orin, you don’t have to be in such a hurry! she cried in a loud, fake voice.

Sean looked up, and their eyes met, and then his gaze turned to his father. Bleak understanding darkened his eyes. Always protective, he scrambled to his feet and started to come toward her and Orin, but she gave a sideways jerk of her head, indicating that he should go to his brothers, help them first, as she’d drilled into him on the ride up from Alabama.

He looked back, biting his lip, and every tendon sung with the need to go to him, to hold him and tell him not to worry, she’d take care of it. As a mother should.

But she couldn’t take care of this. He was only thirteen, but today, he had to be a man and protect his brothers from their father. Her stomach ached like dull knives were stabbing it. She’d failed.

Sean squared his thin shoulders and headed toward the other two boys, who were play-fighting inside the store, now armed with toy swords. Tears filled her eyes to witness their last minute of carefree childhood.

Then she was shoved headfirst into the pickup truck and the door closed behind her.

* * *

THREE HOURS LATER, sore in every public and private part of her body, she fell from the truck to the side of the road, limp as a rag doll, barely feeling the gravel dig into her elbow and cheek.

You wanted to live here, you can die here. Orin’s voice was dim, and then the truck door slammed. There was a roar and the truck drove away.

Her consciousness was fading, her vision blurring.

She tried to move. Couldn’t.

Tractor trailers roared past on the highway, but none of them stopped. Maybe no one could see her. It was getting dark.

Liam was scared of the dark. Who would he turn to when he had a nightmare? Who would teach Cash the right values, how to be more generous? How would Sean have a childhood now?

Her thoughts circled, becoming more distant. Something burned her eyes, and she realized, vaguely, that she was crying. Crying for all the mothering she wouldn’t get to give to her sons.

A vehicle was coming, a truck. She clawed at the gravel and managed to heave herself closer to the pavement. Another claw to the gravel, another heave. She had to get help, had to get to her boys. She pushed herself up on one bloody elbow, tried to lift a hand to wave to the truck as its headlights beamed so bright that she reeled backward. Pain made her stomach roil, and blackness dimmed the edges of her vision.

She pushed herself up higher. Hey! she tried to call out.

The truck thundered on past her and she collapsed down again.

Her head hurt like the worst headache she’d ever had, times ten.

She hadn’t wanted it to end this way, but somehow, she’d always known it would.

CHAPTER ONE

To make an end is to make a beginning.

T. S. Eliot

Present Day

SEAN O’DWYER LOOKED around the lived-in bayou cottage where he’d spent his teenage years, rubbed the back of his neck and dug deep for patience. Nothing like your childhood home to make you feel like a rebellious teenager.

He hadn’t been eager to return to the town where he and his brothers had a history that made people pity them. But Safe Haven was known as the place where you could lick your wounds in peace, and while that primarily applied to women, a handful of men had gotten their footing here, too.

Maybe he’d be one of them. He had nothing left to lose.

Living by yourself out there in the salt marshes isn’t going to make you feel any better. Ma Dixie, the woman who’d taken him in when he was an angry thirteen-year-old and raised him to be a decent man, glanced over from clearing the lunch dishes, her broad face wrinkled with concern. You could just as well plan the renovation staying right here with me.

Liam, who at twenty-eight was the youngest of Sean’s motley crew of adopted and biological brothers, leaned back against Ma’s kitchen counter and sipped sweet tea. Your ex-wife was worried you’d do something rash.

Sean blinked. "You talked to Gabby? You listened to her?"

Liam spread his hands and shrugged. She was concerned.

Concerned enough to dump me for our marriage counselor, Sean muttered, and then was sorry he had. He didn’t need their pity. He and Gabby had grown apart after his two tours in Afghanistan, so her sudden turnaround on their agreement about not having children had broken what was left of their marriage. That, he couldn’t compromise on. He knew himself and his history too well.

He didn’t even miss her, not really. He just missed the hope he’d felt, getting married. That an O’Dwyer could overcome his past, be a happy husband who treated his wife well and was loved in return. His throat tightened and he shoved aside that stupid dream. I’m caretaking the place, too, that’s why I have to live there. Eldora was afraid kids or vandals would break into the cottages.

Liam studied him steadily. When I heard you were coming home, I thought you’d find a way to help the shelter. It’s not doing so well.

That’s your department. Liam was a police officer and lived smack in the middle of Safe Haven.

Your brother’s got his hands full. Looking at a promotion to chief. Ma smiled at Liam with fond pride. She hadn’t raised him or their brother Cash when their family had fallen apart. Her small bayou house had only had room for Sean, but her heart had always been big enough to consider both of Sean’s natural brothers as kin. And although Liam and Cash had landed in different local families, both of them looked at Ma Dixie’s cabin as a second home.

Sean lifted an eyebrow. Congratulations. Never thought my little brother would end up the top guy.

His brother punched his arm, none too lightly. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Where’s Cash, Ma? I thought he was supposed to help us talk sense into Stupid, here.

Sean’s not stupid. And Cash called. Some high-flying deal, so he’s stuck in Atlanta. Ma Dixie pulled the shades to block the afternoon sun, then put her hands on ample hips. I agree with Liam. You ought to stay in town, figure out a way to help the shelter, not go off and lick your wounds alone. Eldora can find another caretaker.

Sean ignored the wounds part. I’m no use to the shelter. Just like the shelter had been no use to their mother. Do I look like the kind of guy a woman in trouble would trust?

You could clean yourself up. Ma pinched his bristly cheek. Shave. Cut your hair.

Lighten up on the steroids, Liam joked, then raised a hand when Sean bristled. I know, you wouldn’t. But you’re huge! You must’ve been working out 24/7.

Sean didn’t bother to correct his brother. The truth was, he’d been doing hard physical labor back in Knoxville, working construction alongside his team. Partly to pay for the divorce, and partly to keep his mind off things.

But the noise and chatter had gotten to him. It was getting to him now, making him think too much. Ma and Liam both had his best interests at heart, but they were overly optimistic about healing wounds and moving on and being happy. He stood. If the intervention’s over, he said, softening his words with a smile, I’ve got a job to do.

You’ll come for Friday-night suppers, now that you’re back in the area?

Sure, Ma. He put an arm around the woman and squeezed her shoulders. He owed her his life and would lay it on the line for her or any one of his brothers. Outsiders, not so much. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine. I just need a little peace and quiet.

* * *

ANNA GEORGE STOPPED her car in front of a pair of padlocked gates and stared at the sign.

Sea Pine Cottages: Closed for Summer Renovations.

Letting her forehead rest briefly on the steering wheel, she took a deep breath. What was she going to do now?

This whole mad, cross-country trek had been a terrible mistake.

Mommy? Are we there yet? Hayley’s voice piped up from the back seat.

Uh-oh. When one twin woke up, so did the other, and patience wasn’t a virtue most five-year-olds possessed. Anna needed a plan, fast.

She knew no one in South Carolina—which was the point—but as she and the twins had fled the cold mountains of Montana, she’d told them all about the low country’s cute, friendly little towns, salt marshes and warm, welcoming beaches. Right now, though, the closed gates in front of them blocked the first step of her plan.

Mommy? Hope was awake now, too, and her voice sounded anxious. Where are we?

Let me think a minute. Anna reached a hand to the back seat and gave each girl a reassuring leg pat. After what they’d seen and heard, they needed to know that they were safe, and that she was safe, and that she had a plan.

There were nice hotels, farther down the coast, but prices were too high. And the kind of small motels she could afford didn’t offer the protection and privacy she and her daughters needed.

Her stomach twisted and turned, but she didn’t dare panic. She wiped wet palms down the sides of her shorts and studied the sign again. If the place was closed for renovations, they had to be renovating something. Ideally, the cabins she remembered from her sole, idyllic childhood vacation—the same cabins that were supposed to house them now. And, God willing, the renovations wouldn’t have started yet and would happen at a slow Southern pace. Or maybe never; sometimes places put up an optimistic Reopening Soon! sign when it was doubtful they’d ever do business again.

The girls were murmuring in their abbreviated secret twin language, and they apparently reached a conclusion. "We want out of the car!"

Okay. One minute. She put the car in Reverse, backed up and pulled off to the side of the gates, where shiny azalea bushes grew thick and high. She eased deep into a hollow section, well sheltered from the road and entrance. Grabbed a couple of tools from the glove box.

You can do this, Anna. You don’t have a choice.

Come on, girls, she said, forcing cheer into her voice. Let’s go exploring!

Fifteen minutes later, they’d ascertained that there were no construction machines and no signs of workers. The place was deserted, which suited Anna just fine. From the road, they scouted the row of tumbledown cabins and selected a sturdy-looking one.

Come on. It’s going to be an adventure! She pushed sweaty hair out of her eyes and urged the girls up the overgrown path toward the cabin. This had to work.

I don’t like bugs! Hope, always more fearful and fretful, waved away a cloud of tiny sand flies and leaned into Anna’s leg, making it hard to walk.

I’m first! Hayley, as usual, ran ahead, reaching the door of the shuttered cabin and turning the handle. It’s locked, Mom, she said, tossing back her blond ringlets. Where’s the key?

That’s the adventure part. Tugging Hope along, Anna reached the door and knelt to study the lock, putting an arm around both girls. She’d hoped for an old-fashioned bolt she could just slide a screwdriver under, but this lock was modern and tight.

That would be better in the long run, safer. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

Who’d have thought that law-abiding, rule-following Anna George would calmly break and enter? She shoved aside her good-girl fear of what would happen if they got caught. She had no other choice. No way would she be a lawbreaker long term, but for now, she’d do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.

Around them, birds had resumed their chirping and cawing. The salt air blew warm, bringing the fragrance of the sea, just beyond the dunes, if her childhood memories served. In fact, if she closed her eyes, she imagined she could hear it: the rhythmic pounding of waves against the sand.

Mommy? What’re we going to do? Hope’s voice trembled.

I’m hungry, Hayley complained.

But at least they were speaking. And Anna meant to make sure that continued, that their voices weren’t silenced as they’d been in the past.

She stood, stepped back. Let’s take a walk around the cabin.

Yeah! Hayley started to rush off.

Wait. What’s the rule?

Her impulsive daughter stopped. Stay together, she said reluctantly.

That’s right—good job, Anna said to Hayley, and then looked down at Hope’s anxious face. Though her twins were identical physically, their personalities were nearly opposite. Want a ride on my back, kiddo?

Okay.

Anna knelt. Jump up. When Hope did, Anna staggered to her feet. Blackness started to close her vision, but she grabbed the trunk of a live oak tree and steadied herself, took a couple of deep breaths. No sleep and a boatload of worries were wearing her down, but she’d gotten this far. She could do this.

She looked up at the cloud-mottled sky. Okay, let’s take a look.

They made their way around the small cabin. Up close, she could see that time and neglect had taken their toll. Part of the screen that sheltered the porch was ripped, and white siding curved away from the cabin, warped by weather. She let Hayley slip through the torn screen to test the cabin’s back door, but it was locked, too.

They continued on around. Mushrooms, bold red and yellow, sprouted in the sandy soil near the small picnic table. No footprints, no trash, no abandoned beach toys.

The loneliness unnerved her a little, but it was what she and the girls needed, at least for now. And the cabin’s basic structure seemed sound. Peek inside, she urged Hope, moving closer to a promising window.

Hope hesitated, then leaned from her perch on Anna’s back to peer into the window. It’s got a kitchen table! And a sofa and chairs.

Perfect. As long as the furniture hadn’t become a nest for rodents or bugs, but she’d keep that fear to herself.

On the third side of the cabin, Anna found what she was searching for: a low window that looked loose in its frame. Just the entrance she needed. Slide down, sweetie. I want you and Hayley to walk out to the road and back. Count the steps.

But what if it’s more than a hundred? Hope asked. That was as high as the twins could count.

Then we’ll start over. Hayley grabbed her twin’s hand and tugged. Come on!

As the girls headed toward the road, squabbling, Anna watched them until she was sure they couldn’t see her, and then pulled a screwdriver out of her back pocket and eased it between the sill and the window edge. Working quickly, she jiggled the window open enough to get leverage, and then wedged the screwdriver in. The wood was swollen and tight, but she manhandled it upward with brute strength she hadn’t known she had.

If she didn’t find shelter for the night, and longer, she feared what harm might come to her children. It was bad enough, sleeping in the car and tangling with the drifters who hung around roadside rest areas and truck stops, but even worse was the ultimate fear: that Beau would find them.

The window broke free in a rush and sped upward, splintering the sill. A long needle of painted wood dug into her hand. She pulled it out, wincing, and leaned into the room.

Musty, but that could be fixed with open windows, as long as the slight breeze kept up. She heard skittering feet, saw a shadow race across the floor. Small and compact: probably a mouse. Mice she could handle. She just prayed there were no snakes.

Most important, she didn’t see any signs of human habitation: no stacks of clothes, no dishes on the little kitchen counter. She didn’t want to disturb another squatter. Didn’t trust such a person, even though she was about to become one herself.

She couldn’t believe that protecting her children had come to this.

For the thousandth time on their three-day pilgrimage, she questioned whether she’d made the right decisions. Leaving Beau, yes. And her job, telemarketing from home, hadn’t been a reason to stay in Montana. But heading to the South Carolina coast, based on a town’s name and some hazy childhood memories? That had been impulsive.

On the other hand, where else could she have gone? Her father didn’t have a lick of spare energy for her problems, and she wasn’t blessed with a big, close extended family.

Mom! It was seventy-eight steps!

No, eighty!

The twins rushed to her, red faced and bedraggled, and she knelt and hugged them fiercely, one in each arm, inhaling their sweaty-kid scent. They needed baths, or at least a swim, soon. She was just thankful that they were safe and with her.

Whatcha doing with that window? Hayley asked.

Are we allowed to open it? Hope looked worried.

It’ll be fine, she said to Hope. You’ll see what I’m doing in a minute. But for now, I want you to go stand on the front porch, and close your eyes, and count to…

Fifty!

A hundred!

Seventy-five, Anna said. Go on. Scoot. It was a good thing they’d reached their destination, because she was running out of creative games to keep the girls entertained.

Hoisting herself up, she flung a leg through the waist-high window and eased through the casement, scraping her thigh on the rough wood. Blood beaded bright against her fading yellow-green bruises.

She was in. She dusted her hands together, did a quick inspection to assure herself that the place was solid and safe, and threw the front door open just as the girls shouted seventy-five together. Come see our new vacation home! she said, smiling at them.

They walked in, wide-eyed but accepting, and the three of them explored the small cabin. Faded, vinyl-covered camp mattresses remained on rusty cots, a single in one bedroom and a double in another. The living room was fully, if only basically, furnished, and the pine paneling on the walls gave the place a cozy, old-fashioned feel.

Where’s the stove? Hayley asked.

And the fridge? Hope added.

Anna came into the kitchen area and looked around, putting her hands on her hips. They were taken out because people don’t live here anymore. But we’ll be fine. We have our cooler, and we can cook things on our camp stove.

Or just eat cereal, Hope added helpfully.

Anna blew out a breath. No. We’re going to start having real meals again, just as soon as we can go to the grocery store. If memory served, there was a small one in the coastal village of Safe Haven, just a few miles down the road. For more supplies, they’d take the highway to Myrtle Beach.

Hey, the lights don’t work! Hayley stood flicking the light switch in the kitchen. Hope ran to check the one in the living room, and then the girls ran from switch to switch, testing each one and getting the same result.

Anna tried the faucet: no water. Of course. It made sense given that the rustic little resort wasn’t open for business. Electricity they could do without, but they needed water.

She let the twins run as she looked around, planning. A worried glance out the window showed a low-hanging sun, so she had to get moving. They’d bring in what they needed, light the lantern, get out dinner. Probably peanut-butter sandwiches, but she’d fix the girls some fruit at least. She’d locate a flashlight and go hunting for the main water valve, set the girls to work wiping down mattresses. They’d find a broom and sweep up the dust and litter on the floor. For tonight, they’d be okay.

Tomorrow, she’d deal with the fact that she was in a strange state where she knew no one, with two little girls to support on very limited funds. She’d figure out their next step.

She was just so grateful that they’d found refuge. They were beginning a new life without Beau, and for now at least, they were safe. That was all that mattered.

* * *

AFTER LOADING UP his truck with supplies from the hardware store—and a six-pack of beer to wash away the taste of his family’s annoying interference—Sean O’Dwyer pulled up to the closed gates of the Sea Pine Cottages, rolled down his window and just sat for a minute, enjoying the moonlight.

The vibrating hum of cicadas rose and fell, and in the distance, waves pounded. The Southern breeze that cooled his face felt like home, as did the looming cedar and live oak trees draped spookily with Spanish moss. Marshy salt smells reminded him of long days spent canoeing through the area’s black water rivers.

The low country would heal him. It always did.

And living here, alone, would be enough for him.

He got out of his car, keyed open the padlock and unwound the chain. He was pushing the squeaky, rusty gate open when the hair on the back of his neck rose.

Something was out of place.

His heart rate accelerated as he stepped back to his truck to retrieve his pistol, then did a deliberately slow three-sixty. His intuition for danger had been honed on the streets of Kabul and he knew better than to ignore it, even in these much-more-peaceful surroundings.

There. A flash.

He walked quietly toward it and realized there was a car parked behind the bushes that framed the gate. Decently hidden, but not to someone with his experience. A small Hyundai sedan that had seen better days. Hand on his weapon, he approached it.

Most cars held some evidence of their owners—a potato chip bag, kid toys, a spare jacket or sweater. This one was completely clean. Almost as if its owner didn’t want