Seaside Secrets
“Fire department’s on its way,” a lady shouted.
A minute ticked by, and she could see nothing through the smoke-shrouded windows. Had Dan decided to administer first aid right there in a burning car? Was he unable to get her seat belt unfastened? She swallowed. Had he been overcome by the smoke?
The driver’s-side door was flung open with a groan of metal.
“He’s unlocked it,” she breathed.
A young couple raced up, took hold of Lila’s shoulders and dragged her away from the flames. They laid her down gently on the pavement. Angela finally succeeded in breaking loose from her captors. She ran to Lila, dropping to her knees. To be sure she was still breathing, she held her cheek next to Lila’s lips and felt the faint puff of air. Lila’s pulse at her wrist was steady though faint. Alive. Angela stripped off her jacket and draped it over Lila’s torso.
“We’re going to get you to a hospital. Just hang on, Lila.”
There was no response. Had she suffered a head trauma? Would she still be alive when they delivered her to the emergency room? There was such a minuscule distance between living and dead. Julio’s crooked smile flashed through her mind. He’d smiled just before he’d died, smiled at her, the reason he had been cut down at the tender age of twenty. That smile would never leave her heart until her dying moment.
Angela wanted to pray aloud, but she found her mind whirling, a sickening cold enveloping her body. She clutched Lila’s hand, squeezing, willing herself not to run away.
Shouts erupted all around her.
“Get out of there, man,” someone yelled. “You’re gonna burn alive.”
It was several moments before she realized they were talking about Dan. The car was now enveloped in flames, black smoke filling the air. The driver’s door stood open like a gaping mouth. No Dan. Several people tried to get closer, but the intensity of the heat drove them back.
Her face warmed at the nearness of the fire, but inside she remained cold. She wanted to help, but her legs would not move. Then pray, her heart begged. Pray to God that the rescuer in the car will be delivered.
But the prayer could not penetrate the surreal numbness. All she could do was watch.
* * *
Dan realized after Lila was pulled through the door to safety that he wasn’t going to get out that way. The upholstered seats had begun to melt, and the flames licked up the steering column. He retreated the way he had come, over the front seat and into the back, just as the side window shattered. He dropped to the seat, covering his head from the cubes of safety glass that rocketed the width of the vehicle. His mind took him right back to Afghanistan, the moment when he had driven in the armored vehicle they affectionately nicknamed Nellie to assist a badly wounded soldier who could not be extracted from his Humvee quickly enough.
He remembered the rocket-propelled grenade that struck the road twenty feet from their transport, shaking the ground worse than any earthquake the California boy had ever experienced. A haze of dust, shouts of confusion, the intensity of the gunny who took charge and got his men to safety before they returned fire. Running boots, the punch of bullets into the ground, the groan of a shell-shocked man he finally realized was himself. The incredible courage he’d been honored to witness in the men and women he served, the realization that life was as delicate as a spring flower and as tenacious as a bulldog.
He’d learned not to try and shut out the memories, but to let them come, experience the pain again and extract himself from it. He did so now, as the glass settled all around him. Then he uncurled himself and continued on to the rear windshield, where there were helping hands, Good Samaritans braving the smoke, to assist him out and away.
Coughing, shaking the bits of glass from his hair, he saw that the ambulance had arrived and paramedics were working on Lila. A heavyset police officer had pushed the crowd back; another was talking into the radio and taking statements. He twisted around, blinking against the smoke that stung his eyes. Where was Angela?
A stocky cop approached, a smudge of black on his tanned face. “I’m Lieutenant Torrey. Do you need medical attention?”
“No. I’m looking for someone. There was a woman here, with Lila.”
“Lila?”
“Lila Brown, the lady trapped in the car. I need to find the woman who was with her.”
The kid with the goatee pointed toward the cliff. “She ran. That way. We tried to stop her, but she looked wild, you know?”
He thanked them. “I’ll be back,” he said to the cop.
The officer’s thick brows drew together. “This is a crime scene and I need to talk to you. I’ll send an officer to find your friend.”
“No,” Dan said. “I’m going to find her now.”
“I need you here.” There was a warning in the tone.
He had no patience for questions. Not then. “My name is Dr. Daniel Blackwater. I live just up the beach. Here’s my cell phone and wallet so you know I will return. I’ll be back just as soon as I can.” He strode away, feeling the officer’s gaze burning into him, hearing a muttered oath behind him.
She looked wild, you know?
He did. He’d seen the seeds of that look when he’d not been able to save Julio Guzman, and he suspected her departure from Afghanistan had not been the end of it. In spite of some soreness along his belly from the glass that had cut through his shirt and into his skin, he moved through the crowd and jogged again to the beach.
The sun sank below the horizon just as he made it to the stairs, leaving him blinking to adjust to the meager light. The fog didn’t help. Everything was gray shadows and glittering sea. He moved down to the sand, calling softly.
“Angela? It’s Dan Blackwater.”
The only answer was the waves scouring the shore. A distant boat motored by, heading to tie up at the nearby marina for the evening.
“Angela?” he said again.
He must have sensed her rather than noted any sound. She sat, curled into a ball, knees drawn up under her chin, hands clasped together.
She didn’t look up when he drew closer, so he stopped a few yards away and crouched down, making himself as small and nonthreatening as a six-four, soot-covered guy could be.
“Hey,” he said.
She stiffened but did not look up. He could see only a glimpse of a tearstained face, hollow eyes that bored right into him down to a tender place he hadn’t known was there. “Lila’s on her way to the hospital, pulse is strong, looks like minor burns at this point. Breathing on her own. All good signs.”
He heard a sniff. He moved closer until he could see the tight grip of her hands, the tension in her neck and shoulders, the slight trembling.
“The explosion was frightening,” he said.
Sounds of crying. Slowly, very slowly, he touched her hand. “Hey. Why don’t we talk? This stuff is hard, I know. It will help you to talk.”
Her head jerked up then. “I don’t need to talk. And you don’t know anything about me.”
He smiled. “Actually, I do. We were in the same place together, remember? A place that very few people in Cobalt Cove can conceive of, unless they served there, too.”
She chewed her lip. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I didn’t, either, but you’ve got to get help.”
“I am the help,” she snapped.
He got it then. “Oh. Because you’re a chaplain, you’re supposed to be the expert, the one who comforts others.”
She didn’t answer. When she looked out over the water, there was only despair on that lovely face, the look of someone who had been left behind, without hope of rescue.
“Angela,” he started.
She waved a hand. “I’m sorry. The explosion and the fire. It got to me. It was silly to run. I’m sure the police want to talk to me.”
“As a matter of fact, they do. I’ll walk you back.”
“Thank you, but I can find my way.”
“Oh, they need to talk to me, too. I left at an inopportune moment.” He gestured to the top of the stairs, where the silhouette of two approaching cops stood out against the dusky sky. “Torrey’s steamed. Cops don’t like it when you keep them waiting.”
“Why did you then?”
“I wanted to find you.”
She scrubbed the tears from her face with her sleeve. “No prize here.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Offering a hand, he helped her stand. “Why did you come here to Cobalt Cove? Why were you talking to Lila?”
She hesitated. “I was looking for someone, and I heard Lila speaking to him on the phone.”
“Who?”
There was a long pause. He guessed she was weighing whether or not to trust him.
“Tank Guzman,” she said finally.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then I guess you accomplished your mission.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guy who helped out with the fire extinguisher.”
She stared at him.
“That was Tank Guzman.”
THREE
Angela tried her best to focus on the questions being fired at her by Lieutenant Torrey. At Dan’s insistence they had moved inside, to a table in the back room of the Grotto, a hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant complete with a rowboat suspended on the wall and crab traps piled in the corner. The smell of cooking fish made her queasy.
“Why?” Torrey said again. She realized she hadn’t heard the question.
“I’m sorry?”
“Why were you looking for Tank Guzman?” Dan supplied.
The lieutenant’s wide chin went up. “Stay out of it, Dr. Blackwater.”
Dan raised his chin. “This woman and I served together in Afghanistan. Lila Brown is my coworker at the clinic. I want answers, too.”
Angela knew Dan was close to being asked to step outside. For some reason, she wanted to avoid that. She took a deep breath. “Tank’s twin brother was my chaplain’s assistant in Afghanistan. I wanted to meet Tank.”
Torrey’s mouth twitched. “My son did some time there, too.” He eased back in his chair, frame erect but a bit less stiff, brown eyes searching her face. “You’re a navy chaplain and now a private investigator?” He’d taken a moment to do a quick search, she realized.
Angela blushed. “My family runs a PI firm. I help out. I have a few weeks of leave.”
“Got a license?”
“No.”
“You here to do some investigating on your own in Cobalt Cove? About Tank Guzman?”
She suddenly felt as if she was somehow under suspicion. Stake your ground and hold on to it, her marine father would have said. She sat up straighter. “No, I just wanted to find him and talk. I’d written him several letters over the past year, and he never replied until last week. He emailed me to arrange a meeting.”
“Why now?” Torrey drummed thick fingers on the table. “Why would he want to meet you now? After blowing you off for so long? What’s the urgency?”
“I don’t know. From what I heard Lila saying on the phone, she was trying to discourage him from meeting with me. She came to the festival to beg him to call it off.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She said if he met with me, it might get them both killed.”
“Are you sure he didn’t tell you anything in the email that would explain why he wanted to meet you?”
She shook her head. He gave her an appraising look that went on long enough to make her uncomfortable. Police technique, she imagined.
There was another half hour of questioning, the last part of which was directed at Dan.
“How do you know Tank Guzman, Dr. Blackwater?”
Dan massaged his shoulder, grimacing. “I volunteer at the Cobalt Clinic. He came in maybe a month ago needing some stitches and a tooth repaired because he’d been in a fight, he said. Lila helped patch up his tooth, and I did the stitching.”
“What was the fight about?”
Dan shrugged. “We just provide services to people who can’t afford it. Period. We’re not there to delve into their private lives unless they want to share.”
“Convenient.”
She saw Dan’s mouth tighten a fraction.
“I didn’t ask,” he said, “and he didn’t tell.”
“Okay,” Torrey said finally. “We’ll take it from here.” He got their contact numbers and leveled a look at Angela as he rose from the table. “Some advice. Tank Guzman is into some bad things. He’s been in trouble, petty stuff, but he’s not the kind of guy you want to get involved with. Best idea is to go back to Coronado and don’t have anything further to do with Tank Guzman.”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?” she said.
Torrey’s gaze drifted past her to the parking lot, where the blackened car still stood, waiting for the police to finish investigating.
“Go home, Ms. Gallagher. Leave the investigating to the cops.”
Torrey left.
She realized Dan was staring at her.
“You’re a private investigator?”
She smiled at the insanity of it. “Hard to believe a navy chaplain has a side job?”
He didn’t return the smile. “No, but it’s hard to believe that Guzman suddenly wanted to chat with a person he’s avoided all this time.” He pulled out his phone and typed something in.
“When did you send your last letter to Guzman?”
“It was an email. I sent it from my office account last month.”
“How’d you find his email address?”
She raised her chin. “I work at a PI firm, remember? We find things out.”
“Uh-huh.” He read the tiny screen. “And when did your family decide to put up their website listing you as an associate of the firm like it says here?”
She swallowed. “Last month.”
“So when you sent the email, he searched your name and it led him to Pacific Coast Investigations.”
“Sounds right. Lila knew he’d contacted an investigator.”
Dan pursed his lips. “Guzman’s into some kind of trouble, or he wouldn’t have run away after the fire.”
“He might have been worried since he’s got a past with the police, but he tried to help you rescue Lila—that has to show what he’s made of.”
“I’m just making an observation. Out of the blue, he asks you to come here, and then there’s an explosion that nearly kills a woman and might have killed you if you were any closer,” he added. “He takes off instead of talking to the police. That all seems a little strange to me.”
Though she didn’t say so, it seemed very strange to her, too. She felt suddenly bone weary and ready to drop. “I’m going to go to my hotel.”
“I’ll walk you back to your car.”
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
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.”