Eye of the Storm Read Online Free

boat club, but I’m a bit early. Hop in.’
    Niamh didn’t hesitate. She had the door open in a flash and scrambled up and into the passenger seat.
    ‘Didn’t you ring your pa to let him know you’d be late?’ the lady asked as she pulled away and U-turned back towards the exit road.
    ‘I would have done, but I broke my phone when I fell off the bike and I can’t remember dad’s mobile number by heart. He’ll be going frantic if I don’t get there
soon.’
    ‘That ain’t no local accent, is it, honey? You from Australia?’
    ‘No, I’m over here on holiday from England.’
    ‘Really? Well, ain’t that a coincidence! I’ve got friends in England – Dave and Philippa Benson. They live in London. Dave’s in marketing and Philippa runs a
hairdressing salon. I forget the name of it now.’
    The lady glanced across the car expectantly and Niamh had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when she recognised the implied question.
    ‘Sorry,’ she replied politely. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know them. But London’s quite a big place and I live out in the country about an hour’s drive
away.’
    The lady looked disappointed, but then continued to talk about Dave and Philippa anyway. As they left the car park, Niamh glanced back towards the Sheriff’s Office main building. There was
no sign that anyone had noticed she was missing yet. It appeared that her luck had changed again, but she knew she was a long way off making a clean getaway.
    A few minutes later, they approached the dusty dirt track entrance to the Arboretum and pulled off the road and into the car park. There were only a handful of cars there and not a person in
sight.
    ‘Dad must be waiting at the ticket office,’ Niamh volunteered in case the lady questioned his whereabouts. ‘There’s a lovely little room over there with information
leaflets and displays about all the trees they have here. Dad loves it here.’
    ‘Really? I can’t say I’ve ever been in and taken a look around.’
    ‘Oh, you should,’ Niamh said enthusiastically as they pulled to a stop. ‘It’s a lovely garden with lots of unusual trees and bushes.’
    ‘Well, I might just do that when I’ve got some time.’
    ‘Thanks so much again,’ Niamh said, opening the passenger door and lowering herself gently down out of the car. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’
    ‘You’re welcome, honey. You have a nice day.’
    ‘And you. Goodbye.’
    Niamh watched and waved as the SUV turned and crossed the car park back to the road, leaving a cloud of dust rising in its wake. No sooner had the car gone than she began to question her choice
of drop-off point. The lady was now going directly back to the Sheriff’s Office car park. One word from her to the wrong person could have police officers here in no time. Perhaps it would
have been better to be dropped somewhere that offered more options for hiding.
    What Niamh needed to do now was try to scrounge another lift to muddy her trail before considering a longer-term plan. Luck, it seemed, was with her. Ten minutes later, having told a variation
of her story about falling off her bike to one of the wardens in the Arboretum, she was in the passenger seat of a pick-up truck on her way into Key West.
    Bill very much looked the part of a botanist. His unkempt curly hair, beard and bushy moustache, together with his slightly scruffy-looking shorts and T-shirt, gave her the impression that he
would rather live rough with his trees than in a comfy house somewhere.
    ‘Where was it you said you wanted to be dropped off?’ he asked as they left the car park.
    ‘The Old Lighthouse, please,’ she lied, glad that she had thought through this part of her story. ‘Dad and I are staying there.’
    ‘Nice place,’ Bill nodded. ‘Bit of history about it. Some great trees in the gardens there too.’
    ‘There are,’ she agreed. ‘The smell is amazing in the evening. Makes it easy to understand why writers like