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“Acquaintance,” Dan said. “We’ve done some charity events together, fun kid days at the clinic and such.”
“So why would a man like that have any interest in killing Tank Guzman?”
“Could be Tank is completely wrong. His integrity is still in doubt.” He shook his head. “What is Lieutenant Torrey going to have to say about this development?”
She sighed. “I’ll call the office. They’re better at this than I am.” The dim light shadowed her face, adding to the fatigue.
“It can wait until tomorrow.” He flipped on the rest of the lights and made sure the sliding glass door was secure, the curtains drawn.
As he turned to go there was a wondrous smile on her face. It stopped him in his progress to the door.
She caught his surprise. “I was just thinking that my gut told me Harry Gruber was up to something. Maybe my instincts do work, at least a little.” She sighed. “Something works, even if it’s just a small thing.”
She looked so delicate standing there, her slender silhouette framed by the lamplight, arms wrapped around her waist as if offering herself a hug. He wanted to do the same.
“It’s not a small thing. That’s a little window into yourself,” he found himself saying. “God’s telling you you’re still in there—you aren’t lost. I had those little windows, too, after I came back. We can talk about it, if you want to.”
She looked away, cheeks flushed, and he knew he’d overstepped. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
It was a dismissal, and there was nothing he could do to erase the distance between them. Pushy, Blackwater, as usual. “Okay. Call me if you need anything. Good night, Angela.”
“Thank you,” she said, “for your help.”
Had he helped? He considered as he returned to the truck, ruefully plucking the ticket he’d received off the windshield for parking in a red zone. In his haste to get to Angela after Tank’s call, he had parked in the first spot he’d found. The ticket had been issued by Lieutenant Torrey.
Tank’s accusation of Harry Gruber wasn’t going to sit well with Torrey. Angela’s guilt would make her take Tank’s side even if the kid was flat-out lying. She’d made enemies on both sides.
Why did it prey on his mind as he drove home?
Because you’re nosy and you always want to manage people’s lives whether they want you to or not.
All true.
Yet he felt something other than nosiness as he stood out on the deck, watching the ocean crawl by, waiting for a sleepiness that would not come.
FIVE (#ulink_9c9c93c1-dbba-5050-9eec-284cb7b0cd2a)
Six o’clock could not arrive quickly enough. Angela had slept no more than a few hours, finally getting up before sunrise to shower and make a pot of instant coffee, most of which was already gone. At the stroke of six, she dialed, knowing that Marco would be in the office after his early morning workout at the local gym. Marco’s routine was as predictable as the sunrise.
She also knew he would not answer the phone unless there was a very good reason. The man despised technology.
“Marco,” she said into the machine after the beep. “It’s Angela. There’s been some trouble.”
“What trouble?” he said as he picked up the phone. She heard noise in the background.
“Is Candace there this early? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Candace called from the background. “I was picking Donna and Brent up from the airport.”
Angela smiled. “How was their honeymoon?”
“Just a minute,” Marco muttered. “Gonna try and put this thing on speakerphone.” There was the sound of Marco pressing buttons, and then they were disconnected. She smiled, picturing him there, big fingers stabbing away at a phone that was beyond his comprehension, brilliant though he was. She was about to redial when there was a knock at the door.
Her breath caught. Too early for housekeeping. Skin prickled on the back of her neck, the way it had when she’d realized Tank was watching her in her hotel room. Enemy or friend? Unsure, she crept to the door. There was no peephole. She placed a hand on the door as if she could somehow feel who it was through the panel.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Dan Blackwater.”
Relief and tension rippled together through her insides. She thought their connection was over; she was hoping, anyway. He was the past for her, the cruel, savage past that would not seem to get out of her present. The seconds ticked on as she tried to think of a polite way to get him to leave.
“Hey, not to be pushy, Angela, but this coffee is burning my hand. I forgot to get those cardboard sleeve thingys.”
She yanked open the door. He held two to-go cups, a white paper bag tucked under his arm. “What are you doing here?”
“I will excuse that ungracious tone if you’ll please take this coffee.” He thrust the cup at her, and she took it. “I figured you could use some breakfast. I’m on my way to the hospital. Thought we might as well go together, since we both have some questions for Lila.”
Her computer beeped, saving her from trying to rally a polite refusal. “Hold on—that’s Marco. He’s trying to Skype this time. Candace must be helping him.”
She opened up Skype, and Marco’s shaved head filled up the screen, Candace peering over his shoulder.
“What trouble?” Marco demanded.
She filled him in and introduced Dan. “He’s, um, I knew him in Afghanistan.”
Marco was silent for a moment. A retired navy man, he understood the significance of that statement. “Okay. I’m leaving now for Cobalt Cove. I’ll see which one of your sisters is available to come with me. Don’t meet with Tank or Gruber until I get there.”
Candace blew out a breath. “I’d come, too, but Tracy is in a school play, and they’ve got practice every day.”
Angela smiled, thinking of her sweet six-year-old niece. Tragic that the child had lost her father in Iraq when she was barely old enough to know him. Then to lose her grandfather a month ago. Angela swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “Did she land the coveted role?”
“Yep, she’s the snowflake in the winter play. There will be sparkles and white tights and a tiara.”
Angela laughed. “Can’t wait to see it.”
“Sarah and I will look into things on this end.”
“How is she?”
Candace frowned in a way that told Angela everything. Sarah had been at the wheel when their father’s car was forced off the road and he was killed. Her emotional trauma far outweighed the physical damage from the crash. “Still not sleeping, and Mom and I have to practically force food down her throat.”
“I’ll be back soon and...” Angela trailed off. How could she comfort her sister when she couldn’t even help herself? She regrouped and straightened her shoulders, hoping Dan hadn’t noticed the lapse.
When they ended the call, Dan offered to drive her to the hospital.
“No need. I’ll drive myself. I have some things to do afterward.” At the moment she had precisely nothing to do until Marco arrived, but she didn’t want to be in the car next to Dan. His silver gaze searched her face as if he understood completely that she was avoiding him.
She thanked him again for the coffee and took the scone he offered before they got into their vehicles and drove to the hospital. Lila Brown was being treated on the fifth floor.
The hallway was quiet. A nurse returned Angela’s cell phone and pointed them to room 504. The smell of the hospital assaulted her, the odor of disinfectant and, she imagined, despair. So many stories ended at such places; she felt as if her own story had ended in a hospital, too, far away on foreign soil.
She sensed Dan looking at her.
“I guess you spend a lot of time in hospitals, for your chaplain work.”
She had. But now she practically had to force herself through the doors, her visits to patients strained, requiring her to seclude herself afterward just to get her rampaging emotions under control. Her commanding officer had asked her to take a month off. Humiliating but she had complied meekly.
“You, too,” she managed. “When are you going back to surgery?”
His gaze drifted away. Surprising. He was tall, strong, self-assured to the point of arrogant, but something uncertain crept over his face, a shadow she didn’t understand.
“Not sure,” he said. “Lila’s room is right over there.”
As they rounded the corner, there was a crash, the sound of metal hitting the tile floor. Dan sprinted ahead, and, after a second of paralysis, Angela followed. They burst into the room.
A nurse looked up, startled. She held a roll of gauze in one hand. A vase of flowers had been upended, the white roses lying in a puddle of water on the floor. The bed sheets were tousled.
“What happened?” Dan demanded.
“She freaked out.”
“Lila Brown?’
The woman nodded. “She was asleep. I needed to change her dressing. I woke her. Tried to cheer her up by showing her the flowers. She opened the card and screamed. Grabbed her clothes and ran. Moved so fast I gouged her with the scissors. What’s wrong with that girl?”
“Which way did she go?”
The nurse shrugged. “Dunno.”
Dan charged out into the hallway.
“I’ll go call security,” the nurse said as she left.
Angela was about to follow, when she spotted the tiny white envelope lying half under the bed, the little card next to it.
There was no message on the card.
Blank.
A cold knot formed inside her.
She picked up the envelope. It was empty, she thought at first.
Feeling a subtle bump through the glossy paper, she looked inside.
A snippet of dark hair, fine and silky.
Like a child’s hair, she thought.
A child.
She dropped the envelope and bolted out the door.
* * *
Dan wasn’t sure which direction Lila had headed, but he knew he had to get to her. He ran to the nearest elevator and pressed the button. The light indicated it was on the way down. Lila?
He sprinted for the stairs and raced down to the fourth floor. He was going to keep running, figuring she was headed for the ground floor exit, when he noticed the stairwell door that opened out onto the fourth floor was not completely closed; a white sock on the floor kept it from latching. Bursting through the door, which creaked open with a squeal, he caught the attention of a short, dark-haired woman.
It was Patricia Lane, a surgeon at the hospital. “Patricia?”
“Dr. Blackwater?” The woman goggled. “What are you doing? Is something wrong?”
“I’m looking for a girl who just ran out of her room. I thought maybe she came up here.”
She clicked her pen closed. “I’ve been checking the charts for the past fifteen minutes and I haven’t seen anyone running through except for you.”
He saw no sign of Lila anywhere, just the normal hustle and bustle. An older bearded man appeared at the doorway to his room. He scratched his close-cut beard.
“Can I get some food? I’m hungry.” He rubbed a sleeve under his nose.
The man looked vaguely familiar. Dr. Lane hastened to his side. “Please sit down. I’ll have the nurse bring you something right away.”
The man returned to his room, muttering to himself.
Dr. Lane smiled. “Sometimes we get a wanderer. You know what that’s like.”
“I do.”
But his mind was only on one patient. Lila Brown. He walked the length of the floor and found no sign of her. Perhaps the sock had been a ruse?
Dr. Lane was staring at him. “I told you. She didn’t come here. Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course.” He returned to the stairwell door, mulling it over. The sock was protruding through to the inside, which meant Lila had arrived on the fourth floor and exited back out to the stairs. Could it have been dropped by another visitor or patient? Not likely. Patricia Lane was a stern taskmaster. The nurses and orderlies he’d worked with at the hospital were top-notch, as well.
He walked Patricia to the door and pointed out the sock.
“Strange,” she said. “I can’t imagine how that got there.”
“I’m sure it was Lila,” Dan said. “She opened the door and dropped the sock. She must have gone back out again if you didn’t see her. Is it possible you were engrossed in your work and you missed her?”
Patricia’s lips thinned into a tight line. “I would have noticed. I’m not oblivious to what goes on in my own hospital.”
“I wouldn’t even suggest that.”
Her face was stony, eyes hard and unblinking. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“There must be another explanation,” he said. “Leave the sock there and I’ll get the police on it.”
