No Way Out
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Synopsis
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Fern Michaels comes a brand-new novel that blends her rich, character-driven storytelling with a hint of suspense, as a reclusive young woman struggles to piece her life back together. …
Ellie Bowman barely remembers the incident that put her into a coma. When she awoke, filled with unease, all she knew for certain was that her boyfriend, Rick, was missing. She knew she needed to get away from her old life and recover
in safety. With the proceeds of a video game she helped develop, Ellie starts over in rural Missouri, working from her cottage and trusting no one except her friend and business partner.
Yet even in this quiet small town, it’s impossible to completely isolate herself. Especially when a curious eight-year-old boy, smitten with Ellie’s pup, stops by every day to talk to him over the fence. Little by little, Ellie is being drawn back
into the world through the neighbors and community around her, realizing that everyone has their own fears and obstacles to contend with.
But when Ellie hears that Rick has resurfaced, her nightmares return, and with them, small snippets of memory. No one has heard from Rick since before the incident, so why is he back now? Ellie wants to move forward with her life, but
first she must find the courage to look into her past, no matter what she finds there …
Release date: March 30, 2021
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 368
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No Way Out
Fern Michaels
Liam and Noah had been raised in a house on Sheridan Road, the upscale area of Wilmette, a suburb of Chicago. Their father, Sidney Westlake, had a seat on the Chicago Board of Trade, and had parlayed a modest stake into a large fortune. Their mother, Eleanor Adams Westlake, was aloof. A debutante when she was in her teens, she had picked her friends according to their socioeconomic status and continued to do so throughout her marriage. Only the wealthiest people in town were invited to the opulent parties hosted by “the Ice Queen,” the name Liam and Noah would mutter when she dismissed her sons from a room. Any room. To describe her as cold would be like describing Warren Buffett as well-off. Even the sting of dry ice would be warmer than her personality. She could be most charming, but only bothered when being scrutinized by her peers. She was a perfectionist at maintaining a façade of grace and hospitality.
The brothers had attended boarding school from the time they were eligible. Prior to that, they were constantly under the tutelage and care of not one but two nannies. They rarely saw their mother, even when they were home.
Truth be told, Eleanor hated children. If it hadn’t been for the pressure from her family, she would have skipped the revolting process by which they came into the world, but someone had to inherit her share of her father’s estate. Her father had been a bit of a prig. He wanted an heir. An heir as in a male. As far as he was concerned, neither Eleanor nor her sister, Dorothy, qualified. They were women. He was adamant that the legacy would be handed down to Eleanor’s and Dorothy’s male children. Dorothy was still single, so it was up to Eleanor to do the heavy lifting, something Eleanor abhorred.
A few short months after they were married, Eleanor was with child. Not one but two. Twins. She despised being pregnant and refused to breastfeed the infants once they were born. Her disdain went beyond breastfeeding. She barely held them. She was thrilled that she had gotten all the dirty work out of the way in one fell swoop. The only time she exhibited any sort of emotion was when she discovered she was having twin boys. She would produce two heirs to the family fortune. Besides, she dreaded the thought of having a girl. Not only would a girl not be an heir, so she would have to go through the disgusting process all over again, but a girl would expect some kind of female bonding. Not Eleanor.
She couldn’t bond with anyone even if she used Gorilla Glue. Eleanor was people-proof. The only reason she had a long list of social acquaintances was for everyone else’s opportunity to mingle and network with other socialites. She knew it, but she didn’t care. She only cared about all the accolades she would get in the lifestyle section of the newspapers—print and online. When it came to human feelings, Eleanor had only one: self-absorption. She was the ultimate narcissist.
On the surface, her marriage to Sidney appeared normal, with the exception of Eleanor’s conspicuous consumption of goods, parties, and extravagant trips. Perhaps it was her way of dealing with the numerous extramarital relationships Sidney had had over the years. His dalliances were common knowledge, and most people secretly felt it was more her frigid personality than anything else that caused him to stray. But everyone looked the other way, since they reaped the benefits of association with the wealthy and entitled. It was a price everyone in her circle was prepared to pay.
Even with his money and influence, Sidney could never divorce Eleanor. He was always discreet as well as generous to the women with whom he had his dalliances. Also, many of the women were married, which meant that discretion was even more important. The affairs were casual, and he would show his gratitude with gifts. But he never took it to the point that could warrant his being accused of having “a kept woman.” No, Sidney was careful. He couldn’t afford a scandal, much less a divorce. Eleanor would take him to the cleaners and stick a hanger up his butt.
Eleanor knew about each and every one of Sidney’s peccadilloes. She didn’t care as long as he showed up at her side at the many social events they attended or hosted. She’d rather have access to all of Sidney’s money than half of it. And everyone knows that the ex-wife becomes the social persona non grata, as she has to take a back seat to the trophy wife who replaces her. No, Eleanor was shrewd. Besides, she found Sidney’s lovemaking revolting. She was happy to let someone else handle that repulsive bit of business. Eleanor provided the perfect partner for Sidney. They were locked into their soulless, loveless, controlled lives.
The sons of Sidney and Eleanor Westlake were privileged but not spoiled in the usual way. They didn’t have the entitled attitude that so many of their peers exhibited. That was probably due, in large part, to Eleanor’s lack of participation and interest. The nannies, the tutors, and their proctors taught them respect and kindness.
Liam was the more introspective of the two. He spent a great deal of time thinking, while Noah spent time playing. In boarding school, Noah would tease Liam when they had an opportunity to watch a rugby match. Liam preferred to sit among the books at the school’s well-endowed library. He enjoyed getting lost in thought as he buried himself in the works of ancient philosophers. Noah would sneak up behind him and give him a flick on the back of the ear, causing Liam to holler and shrink in embarrassment while the librarian would give him a big “ssshhhh!” Liam was interested in psychology. He secretly hoped he could reconcile his feelings of abandonment. Intellectually, he knew that Eleanor would never win Mother of the Year, but emotionally, he felt a tremendous void in his heart.
Noah seemed immune to their mother’s indifference. His way of dealing with it was simply to make the most of the situation, even if that meant making mischief at times. He never did anything horrid or dangerous. Mostly practical jokes, like short sheeting someone’s bed, setting the table with a dribble glass, or leaving rubber spiders in the toilet. They were fraternal twins, so switching identities was not an option. But even as he was nearing his eighteenth birthday, Noah would be the one setting a bag of doggie doo-doo on fire and ringing the doorbell, in the hopes that the person would instinctively stomp out the fire, getting poop all over their shoes. That was probably the most horrendous joke he had pulled.
At least as far as anyone knew.
Regardless of their different personalities, the brothers had a very strong bond. As children, they soon realized that Mother didn’t care much and Dad was never home unless Mother was entertaining. Their nannies were the only people who showed them any affection. Eleanor grudgingly gave them a hug when the boys went off to boarding school, but neither could recall any other displays of motherly love. When they were sick, it was the nannies who cared for them, administering cold medications, serving them soup and crackers, and reading stories. Stories. Their mother had never told them a story. Not a single time. Looking back, Liam couldn’t remember if their mother had ever entered their bedroom when they were home from school. He had asked Noah if he recalled her coming to them, and Noah couldn’t think of a time that it had happened.
Despite the frigid environment in which they were raised, Liam and Noah were well-adjusted. There is something to be said for “the best money can buy” when it came to their nannies and their schooling.
But, in a very short time, they would be emancipated and choosing which college to attend. Liam had contemplated joining the Jesuits but was quickly talked out of it by Noah. Noah had arranged for them to visit the University of Miami campus. The clear blue skies, swaying palms, vibrant blooms of the bougainvillea, and lovely, scantily clad young women sauntering across the great lawn would certainly change Liam’s mind.
College life was going to be a totally different experience. They would essentially be on their own without the oversight and supervision of the boarding-school staff. True, there were resident assistants to monitor the dormitories and supervise adherence to the rules. But they had no control over what students did on campus or in the city. There were only eighteen campus police patrolling almost three hundred acres of land and seventeen thousand students, and not all of them were on duty at the same time. It was a very safe campus nonetheless, but it gave students a lot of autonomy and self-reliance.
Mother was not happy with the college they chose. She had anticipated that they would attend Brown or Dartmouth, Ivy League schools that the children of her wealthy friends attended, and put up a bit of a stink. It was one of the very few times she had shown any reaction at all to her children’s choices. And this despite the fact that anger and disapproval were her go-to emotional responses to most everything else. Rarely did a smile or word of encouragement surface in response to something her children had done or said. Without saying or explaining what she expected of them, she made it clear what her expectations were, expectations that always had to do with furthering her own social standing. And when those expectations weren’t met, she would leave the room in a huff, slamming the door behind her. That’s when she would go to Sidney and complain that he needed to “do something about those boys.”
And Sidney, who couldn’t care less, would shrug, explain to his sons how disappointed Mother was, adjust his tie, and leave the room.
Noah and Liam would roll their eyes and resume whatever they were doing at the time. Reading was Liam’s passion. Video games were Noah’s.
The day they were leaving for Miami, their mother refused to see them off, feigning one of her “headaches.” Liam and Noah were used to her disinterest but got hugs and kisses from the staff—the people who actually cared for them. Even Sidney merely gave them a handshake and a thousand dollars each. “This is your allowance for the semester. Don’t ask for any more.” After which, he picked up his attaché case and left the grand foyer of their mansion in Wilmette, one of the most luxurious suburbs of Chicago.
Tampa Bay, July 2022.
“The tourists are gone—I’m ready for a change,” Alison Marshall told her manager at Besito’s, one of the finer Mexican restaurants in the city.
Pedro shook his head. “No, you can’t leave now. I’m already shorthanded as it is. We’ll liven up soon, the locals will turn up.”
“Sorry, Pedro, but it’s time for me to move on. I’ve worked the last two seasons here. I told you when you hired me I was a drifter,” Alison explained. She needed a new scenario. She’d been in Tampa Bay long enough. The tourist season was over, and the big tips didn’t come from the locals eating free baskets of chips and salsa on Taco Tuesday. One might earn twenty bucks in tips, if they were lucky.
At twenty-nine, Alison was footloose and fancy-free. She liked being self-sufficient, able to pick up and go whenever the urge hit her. She had no family, no close friends, and had never owned anything except an old Jeep she’d paid cash for three years ago in Tallahassee. No attachments suited her perfectly.
“You’re leaving me in a bind, Alison. I can’t give you a good reference,” Pedro told her as she folded her clean BE-SITO’S work shirt along with her bright green apron.
“Fine. You’ll find someone else to take my place. Put an ad on your Facebook page. Trust me, you’ll have your share of applicants. I don’t need a reference from you.”
Pedro, all four hundred pounds of him, shook his head, his black hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Then go,” he told her as he wiped his forehead with a dirty rag.
“Nice knowing you too, Pedro.” Alison left her shirt and apron on the counter by the register. She had no hard feelings toward her manager; she knew it was time for a change.
She waved goodbye to the empty dining room. “Later,” she said as she walked to her car. Her rent was paid up, so no strings there, either. Renting an efficiency apartment weekly suited her nomadic lifestyle. Living on the seedier side of Tampa Bay had its risks, but for two hundred a week, she hadn’t worried about them. She carried a. 22-caliber pistol in her purse with five extra clips, all legal and necessary for a woman in today’s world.
Once inside her one-room apartment, she neatly packed her clothes into her battered luggage, took her two pairs of extra shoes from the small closet, and grabbed her toiletries bag, stuffing it inside with the rest of her worldly belongings.
Alison took the three Diet Cokes out of the mini refrigerator and placed them in her small cooler. She took one last look around the modest space that had been her home for two years.
“Yep, it’s time to hit the road.”
She filled the cooler with ice before stopping by the office to return her key.
“You goin’ already?” Bert asked, brown spittle staining his white beard. He reeked of stale cigars and whiskey.
“Time to move on,” she said. “Take care of yourself.” Bert nodded. “Always do.” Alison had a snarky reply at the ready but kept it to herself. Bert was who he was—an old drunk with a half-ass job that gave him free rent. Not unlike herself, minus the drunkenness and cigar smoke.
She pulled into a convenience store and filled her tank, then purchased a few snacks for the road. She kept a sleeping bag, a flashlight, and a set of jumper cables in the Jeep just in case. Always be prepared for the worst, a lesson she’d learned after spending her first seventeen years in foster homes. After graduating high school early with honors, she took a bus from Ohio to Georgia with nothing but the clothes on her back and the money she’d managed to save from the part-time jobs she’d held during high school. She spent four years in Georgia, had a number of jobs, saving every cent she could, living in hostels, cheap hotels, and sometimes the back of the twenty-year-old van she’d bought. It was hard work, saving as much as she could, until she returned to Middletown, Ohio, on her twenty-first birthday to search for the family of the man who’d sent her running. Since she was a legal adult, the state of Ohio no longer controlled her. She spent over a month searching for any information about the foster family whose son had tried to take her life. Alison spent hours at the local library, searching obituaries online. Information from the local police provided nothing, though the lies she’d told about her reasons for wanting such information might’ve been why she’d been unable to get answers. Knowing he was no longer a danger, and that possibly her fears about his family were irrational, she put the nightmare back in a place where her dark memories resided, and left Ohio once more.
With 12,000 dollars saved, she rented a room at a local boarding house in Georgia and found a job at a Frisch’s Big Boy. She spent six years there, working as a waitress. When she’d had enough of Georgia, she’d said her goodbyes and headed south to Florida.
Alison liked the warm weather, though she didn’t care for the humidity in the summer. However, she loved the laid-back lifestyle. She’d stopped in Tallahassee but didn’t like that remote area so then headed to Tampa Bay, where she found a place to live and a job. Now she was on the move again.
Driving south on Interstate 75, she figured she could head for the Keys, where no one would care where she was from or who she was. These were her thoughts as she drove at a steady pace along the interstate. She checked the gas gauge and saw she was down to a quarter tank. The Jeep was a gas hog. She pulled over at the next exit, and after parking her Jeep, she went inside a Circle K convenience store and bought a large coffee and a map. She gassed up, then pulled to the side of the parking lot to look at the map. The closest city was Fort Charlotte. She would stop for the night, rest, then head for Key West first thing in the morning.
As she was about to pull out of the parking lot, she heard a cry. Stopping, she eased the Jeep toward the pumps, where she thought the cries were coming from. Turning off the ignition, she got out of the Jeep and walked toward the sound. What she saw broke her heart—a cat with two small kittens, the mother cat stretching to find food in the nearby garbage can.
“Oh, sweet girl, look at you.” Alison bent down, careful not to startle the cat. While she’d never had a pet, she’d worked in a pet store in high school and so knew a little about momma cats and their kittens. “You’re hungry, huh?” Momma cat meowed loudly and took a couple steps toward her. Alison spoke in a soothing tone—at least she hoped—so she wouldn’t frighten her. Momma cat came right to her, snaking around her legs, the two kitties meowing for attention, too. Without giving it another thought, Alison scooped up Momma cat and her kitties, opened the passenger door of her Jeep, and sat them in the seat. She petted the kitties, and they meowed even louder. Gently closing the door, she returned to the driver’s seat. “Okay, girls, we need to find supplies.”
Decision made, she took the Tucker’s Grade exit to Highway 41, driving down the old state road, searching for a cheap place to stay that allowed animals. She spied an older place to her right—the Courtesy Court Motel, a typical L-shaped building, single story. She’d seen many old places like this in her travels. A sign in the office window read LOCALLY OWNED, PETS WELCOME. This usually meant cheap rates. Since it was the middle of summer, the July heat kept most local folks indoors or swimming if they were lucky enough to have a pool or had the time to spend a day at the beach.
Alison parked next to the office but left the Jeep running so she could keep the air on for the cats. “Be right back,” she called over her shoulder, even though she knew they couldn’t hear her.
The motel, painted a bright orange with a green flat roof, was probably built in the early sixties and stuck out like a sore thumb. Each room had an old iron chair and side table beside the door. Hardy foxtail ferns flourished in yellow pots on either side of the entrance. A bell jingled when she stepped inside the air-conditioned office.
An older woman with snow-white hair, sapphire eyes, and an apron tied around her thick waist greeted her. She smiled, wiped her hands on her apron, then took a pair of eyeglasses from the desk. “I was baking—can you believe that? In this heat. I swear, I think this heat is frying my brain. Now, what can I help you with?”
Alison couldn’t help but smile. It should be obvious to the woman, but maybe she offered other services besides the motel.
“I want to rent a room for the night,” Alison said.
“Of course you do,” the woman said. “Just you?”
Alison nodded. “And my cats.”
“Okay, just sign your name here.” The clerk pointed to a large leather-bound visitor guest book with an alligator embossed on the front. “What kind of cats do you have?”
“Just some old strays I picked up. That’s it?” Alison asked while signing her name.
“Yep, nothing fancy here, but fresh linens, good mattresses, and cable TV. We don’t have Wi-Fi, so if you’re looking to play on your computer, you’ll have to try the Holiday Inn further down.”
“No, I don’t need Internet.” Alison didn’t have a cell phone or a computer. They were useless since she didn’t have anyone she wanted to speak to. If she really needed to search the web, she used the library.
“Then it’s thirty dollars a night plus ten bucks for a pet deposit. And we only take cash,” the older woman explained.
Alison took a twenty, two fives, and a ten from her wallet, handing them to the woman. “Thanks. So I guess you’re going to give me a key.”
“Of course. As I said, this heat has fried my brain.” She removed the key from a drawer to room number two. “This is close to the soda machine; there’s an ice bucket in your room if you need it. Ice machine’s next to the soda machine in the breezeway.”
Alison took the offered key. A real key—no key cards to scan here. She liked this place already.
“Checkout is at noon,” the lady told her.
“I’ll be long gone by then, but thanks,” Alison said.
“You’re welcome. I’m Betty. If you need anything, just buzz the office. We do have telephones in the rooms.”
“I appreciate that.”
Once Alison was inside her Jeep, she pulled away from the office, parking in the space reserved for room number two. She shut the engine off, then went to the back of the Jeep for her luggage, dragging the old black case behind her. The key slid easily into the lock; then she pushed the heavy metal door aside, startled when she saw the inside of the room. Alison had stayed in a lot of dumpy motels in her day, and nothing surprised her. Until now. The room was immaculate, with nice wood floors, the furniture modern. The chair and table with a lamp would be a nice place to have a meal. The bathroom had been updated, too. There was a modern shower, with a removable shower head that appeared to be brand new. Little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap were arranged neatly on the counter next to the sink. A tiny green box held a shower cap, mini sewing kit, and three Q-tips. She hadn’t seen this kind of stuff in the dumps she’d stayed in throughout the years. She had her own toiletries, but she’d use what they provided, since she’d paid for them. Never one to waste a dime on anything, she was ever conscious of her finances.
She went back to her car and carried the momma cat and her kittens inside the room. She placed them on a pillow from the bed so they had a soft place to rest. Once they were settled, she took a paper cup and filled it with water. “I know you need more than this, so I’ll be right back.” She rubbed Momma cat between her ears. She wasn’t sure what kind of cat she was, as her coat was a multitude of colors. Each of the kittens was a replica of their momma. The dollar store wasn’t that far, so Alison raced out before the cats ran after her.
Thirty minutes later, she returned with milk for the cats, wet food, and three disposable litter boxes, along with three food dishes and one large dish for their water. She poured a generous amount of milk in the water dish, then added wet food to the smaller dishes. Momma cat practically inhaled her food, while the kitties nibbled at theirs. They all lapped up the milk, then returned to their pillow. Unsure if Momma cat was still nursing, Alison kept an eye on her. The kitties had to be only five or six weeks old.
Once they were nestled together on their pillow, Alison un. . .
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