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An explosion that nearly kills a woman and might have killed you...
This time, she did not decline his offer.
* * *
Dan insisted on checking underneath Angela’s car before she started it. There was no real reason to, except that his nerves were nagging him.
He gestured for her to roll down the window. “Where are you staying?”
“Blue Tide Inn.”
“Can I get your cell number? In case I hear any updates about Lila?” He was suddenly uneasy that she might decline.
After a moment’s pause she told him the number and then groaned. “My cell is in my jacket. I think it might have wound up going to the hospital with Lila. My car keys would have, too, if I hadn’t put them in my back pocket.”
“The hospital will keep it for you. I work there, or I did. I’m going to check on her tomorrow morning, anyway. I’ll ask about it.”
He felt her looking closer at him. “Don’t you work there anymore?”
He rubbed his neck. “On leave, like you. Taking some time off. Injured my hand.”
“Oh. The way you got Lila out of the car, I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
“A surgeon’s hands have to be better than good. The tiniest slip and someone’s dead.” The words came out harsher than he’d meant. Something in her gaze made him uncomfortable, as if she saw things under the surface, things he didn’t want anyone to see. “Anyway, I’ll get the phone back for you.”
“No need. I’ll do it myself.”
“Fair enough.”
He stepped back so she could drive away.
She turned to him. “Do you need a ride?”
“No. My house is right up the beach.”
She hesitated for another moment. “Dan, what I said before, about you being a coward. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“Yes, there is. You fought your way into a burning car to get Lila out. That’s courage if I ever saw it.”
He noted how the moonlight embedded sparks of light in her hair. “Oh, I don’t know. For some folks, just facing another day requires more courage than I’ve got.”
One more moment with her eyes locked onto his. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear and drove out of the parking lot. He watched until her car pulled out of sight. It was nearly nine o’clock. The crowds had dispersed, leaving only clusters of people sipping cups of coffee or walking down to the beach before heading home.
He took off at a slow jog, only two miles to his cottage. The term amused him. It was a dilapidated wood-sided claptrap, a far cry from the sleek five-bedroom house he’d owned before he’d gone to Afghanistan. He’d had visions of fixing the cottage up, restoring each warped beam and leaking faucet, but he hadn’t and it didn’t make much difference. The only thing that really mattered was the view from the sagging wraparound porch. The thundering of the Pacific beat a soothing rhythm day and night, steady, reassuring.
As he took the steps up to the porch, he said hello to Babs, the cat who had adopted him—or his porch, anyway. He spent a moment, as he always did, breathing in the grandeur of the ocean, which normally eased away all his troubles. God’s workmanship. Incredible. That was one thing about his time in the desert. Somehow it made all the colors of the world brighter, more vibrant, upon his return.
Tonight, though, he found that his mind was not clear and easy. He liked Lila, appreciated her calming way with patients and her gentle nature. If she was scared, he wanted to help. And then there was a certain navy chaplain. He flashed for a moment on her haunted green eyes, the deep green that reminded him of new spring leaves. He could not rid himself of the feeling that Angela Gallagher was in trouble.
* * *
Angela wanted to call home and talk to her family, to reassure herself that all was well. After the disastrous last year, her youngest sister, Sarah, was still healing from the car crash that had taken their father’s life. The killer who’d arranged it all would have murdered their sister Donna, as well, if God hadn’t intervened and sent coast guard rescue swimmer Brent Mitchell into their lives. Donna and Brent were enjoying their newlywed status, and her mother and sisters were busy tending to each other and the family business under the supervision of Marco, their longtime family friend. Maybe she could call Marco and tell him about all that had transpired, but he would be in a car speeding to Cobalt Cove in a matter of minutes, and she did not think she had the fortitude to handle a face-to-face with him.
She let herself into the small hotel room, decorated in soothing blues with a second-story balcony that looked over the front parking lot and out to the ocean beyond. She locked the door behind her, legs gone weak. Sinking down into a chair, she considered her options.
Go home, as Officer Torrey had suggested.
Stay and see if she could somehow locate Tank.
And then what? If he was a dangerous man, that plan would be just plain stupid.
“You’re committed until tomorrow morning, anyway,” she muttered to herself. There was no way she was going to leave Cobalt Cove without retrieving her cell phone and checking on Lila.
She wondered if she’d see Dan at the hospital. Her cheeks went hot as she considered what he must have thought after she’d bolted from the accident scene and hidden like a child on the beach. Yet his tone had not been condescending or pitying, the gray eyes gentle, or so she imagined.
With a sigh, she put the memory behind her and microwaved herself a cup of water, dunking in a tea bag before she opened the door to the balcony. The hotel phone rang and she answered it, gazing out at the sea, cradling the hot mug to her body with her free hand.
“Is this Angela Gallagher?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“You know who.”
Her breath caught. “Tank?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to you.”
Her nerves were rattled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I had nothing to do with that explosion.”
“It’s a police matter now.”
“I need help. The way I see it, you owe me.”
“How’s that?”
“My brother died protecting you.”
The words cut into her like bullet fragments. “I...I don’t even know you.”
“Doesn’t matter. If my brother was alive, he’d have my back, but he’s dead because of you.”
The words robbed her of the power of speech. A throbbing pain filled her body.
“I need to talk to you now,” he said. “Meet me at the diner across the street in fifteen minutes.”
“I can’t.” She scrambled for an excuse. “I’m in my pajamas.”
There was the sound of soft laughter. “No, you’re not.”
Terror balled in her stomach. Could he see her? She scanned the parking lot, quiet and dark. No, she told herself. He’s bluffing. She let out a shaky breath.
“And you’d better drink your tea before it gets cold.”
The phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, disconnecting the call.
FOUR (#ulink_a4aca045-2541-5107-b511-4bdf65066db7)
Dan was finishing up reading an article in a kayaking magazine when his cell phone rang. He turned down the music and answered. For a few seconds, there was no one on the other end, which sent the nerves cascading along his spine.
“Who’s there?”
“Dan?” Another beat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”
He stiffened. “What’s wrong, Angela?”
“Well...probably nothing.”
“I was born nosey. Tell me.”
“Tank called my room. I don’t know how he got my number, but...”
He heard the catch in her breath. “What?”
“He’s watching me. Maybe I should call the police.”
“Yes, you should.”
“But, I think he’s in trouble. He—I...I want to talk to him.”
Dan measured his words with care. “The police would advise against it, and so do I.” Too arrogant? He waited.
“I know, but I feel like I should.”
“You think you owe him because of what happened to Julio.” Overstepping for sure, but he couldn’t take it back now.
No answer from her.
“You don’t owe Tank anything. It’s not smart to meet him.”
“Thanks for the advice. Sorry to disturb you.”
“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it and decide.”
Her tone was slightly miffed. He liked the hint of rebellion.
“I don’t know why I called. I apologize. Good night.”
“Hold on,” he said. “As soon as you hang up, you’re going to decide to go.”
“Are you a mind reader now?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said in what he hoped was a jovial tone. “And your mind is saying it was a good idea to call that annoying Blackwater guy because he can help. I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t leave your room until I get there.”
“You’re bossy.”
He chuckled. “Only when I’m right,” he said. “Stay put.” Not waiting for her to rally an argument, he was out the door in moments. Normally he’d bike the two miles, but it was faster to take his Chevy. The truck rumbled over to the hotel. Afraid she might have already left without him, he parked in the closest spot he could and jogged up to Angela’s room.
“It’s Dan,” he said, knocking on the door, praying she hadn’t gone on to meet Tank without him.
She opened the door wearing jeans and a thick sweater that matched her eyes. Her head cocked to the side, expression chagrined. “This is silly. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
He shrugged. “I’m up for silly. What else did he say to you?”
She relayed a few details about the call.
“All right. If it’s a misunderstanding, we’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go to the diner.”
“If he sees you with me, he might not come.”
“We’ve met, remember? Over the hood of a burning car, so he probably knows I’m not a cop. If he’s going to run, so be it.”
She shook her head. “This cloak-and-dagger stuff is ludicrous.”
“I thought you were a detective. Isn’t that your stock in trade?”
A sliver of a smile lightened her face. There was a quick flash of a dimple, which thrilled and scared him. He’d always been a sucker for dimples until his gorgeously dimpled fiancée left him. You deserved it, Dan. You came back from Afghanistan with different priorities. Wasn’t AnnaLisa’s fault. But still...dimples.
“I’m only a detective on paper, remember?” she said, but she followed him out to the parking lot.
He strolled close and put an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened but did not pull away. “What are you doing?”
“Just letting Tank know you’ve got backup, in case he wants to try anything.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“There’s a reason he isn’t eager to take his problems to the cops. Let’s play it safe until we know more.”
The night was cold, and he felt her shiver. Then again, it might have been the insane day she’d had so far already. Explosions and clandestine meetings. She was right. Ludicrous, especially in the quiet town of Cobalt Cove.
The Beachbum Diner was an odd little spot, a throwback to the 1970s with booths upholstered in tan and yellow, with a menu as eclectic as the mismatched lighting fixtures.
