by Dana Mentink
Brent had to jog to keep up with Donna as she raced to the trail between the trees. The physical toll of rescue swimming demanded that he stay in pristine shape. Veterinarians must have similar demands. She wasn’t even breathing hard, sprinting effortlessly on legs long and lean. He was wild to talk to her, but he found himself tossing questions at her back as he scrambled to catch up. “Why are you here? How did you find Harvey? What’s in the shed?”
“That’s too many questions to ask while I’m running.”
“Then take them in order.”
“Okay. I was up early thanks to my sisters’ predawn visit. I drove here and before I even made it into the office, I spotted Harvey, scooting along, looking over his shoulder as if he was trying to be sneaky, so I just watched him for a while. He was returning from a shed where they store the old landscaping tools and such. I tried to talk to him about it, but he only wanted to go back to his apartment. I met him there and we talked for a while.”
“So you went to check out the shed? Why?”
She sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Something in his body language was suspicious. Or maybe my sisters are right and I’m desperate to try and be an investigator as a way of handling my grief. I don’t know, but my nosiness paid off.”
“How?” He managed to keep from shouting the question.
“You’ll see in a minute.”
They reached the end of the trail. Sitting under a gnarled star pine was a small wooden shed, not often used, judging from the blanket of pine needles on the roof. Across the grass field was a view of the town, still sleepy due to the early hour, and beyond that, the glitter of the ocean. There was one small window, clouded with dirt.
Finally, he caught Donna by the shoulder.
She twisted around, hair swirling in a soft cloud, eyes piercing him with navy blue.
“I’m done being dragged along like a bag of laundry. Tell me,” he demanded.
“You’re not patient. Isn’t that a problem in your line of work?”
“Sometimes aggressive works better than patient.”
“That won’t help in the veterinarian business. I’m as patient as the day is long.” She held up the key for him and he grabbed her hand, imprisoning it in his.
He pulled her a little closer, an electric charge surging through their connected hands. He should let go, but he didn’t. “And you’re enjoying stringing me along.”
She raised her eyebrows in mock innocence. “Would I do something like that?”
“Without a doubt.” He eased her fingers open. Her mischievous look suddenly vanished, her tone serious.
“Unlock it and see for yourself.”
A thrill of tension shot through him. What would he find? Fragments of old memories coursed through him. Casualties he’d plucked from the ocean a moment too late. A drowned child he’d had to wrestle from his mother’s arms, an elderly grandfather whose birthday fishing trip with his sons had turned tragic. A glimpse of Carrie’s hair fanned out on the water as the rescue crew loaded him into the boat, him utterly helpless. The muscles of his throat seized up, but he forced himself to look at the facts and allow common sense to overcome the irrational fear. Donna’s expression was not one of horror, more of hope. Whatever lay behind the door might show him the path to find Pauline. He eased the key in the lock. It stuck, grating against years of rust and disuse. Slowly, he wriggled the lock back and forth.
Something brushed against the door from the inside.
His pulse raced. The lock grudgingly turned, but the door resisted his effort.
He thought he heard a whimper.
Adrenaline fueled, he rammed his shoulder against the wood.
It gave abruptly and he stumbled across the threshold as something hurtled the other way, knocking him to his knees.
Scrambling to his feet, he saw Donna laughing as Radar barked and jumped, trying to lick her face in a mad frenzy.
* * *
Donna finally calmed Radar, after he repeated the same crazed behavior with Brent. Brent knelt, stricken, rubbing Radar’s ears. The dog whined, trembling, licking him under the chin. Donna saw Brent’s throat convulse and she regretted teasing him earlier.
“How’d you get here, boy?” Brent whispered.
But she knew his real question was about Pauline.
“Harvey told me Radar showed up on the property on November 30 at 3:41 p.m. I’m sure he’s right. He’s got a thing about dates.”
“And Harvey just kept Radar? All this time? He didn’t tell the manager or the police?”
“He figured he’d just take care of Radar until Pauline returned. Actually, I think he knows there’s a no-pet policy here, but he’s been enjoying playing with Radar and caring for him, sneaking him out for night walks and such, he says.” Donna ran a hand over Radar’s sides. “Radar’s been well fed and brushed. Harvey’s done a good job.”
Brent stood, jamming a hand through his hair. “A good job? And while he’s been doing this good job, my sister’s been missing?”
“He didn’t know he was doing anything wrong.”
“All these weeks gone by,” he groaned. “Who knows where she could be by now? The police could have been out looking. I would have been searching. She would never leave Radar.”
“But this is a breakthrough, isn’t it?” Donna said. “My dad was on the right track. Maybe the police can figure out how Radar got here.”
“You think?” Ridley said, striding up the trail. “After you interviewed this Harvey resident and took it upon yourself to mess up any evidence we might have gathered here?” His mouth was a hard line.
Radar trotted to meet the officer, then backed away. Donna gave him a comforting pat and hooked her fingers around his collar as a precaution. The poor animal had been through a lot, and that made him unpredictable.
“I’m sorry. My only thought was to free this dog.”
“Way to go. Mission accomplished. Now you two need to get out of this investigation and stay out.”
“What did you learn from the manager?” Brent said.
“What part of stay out did you not understand?”
“It’s my sister,” Brent shouted, leaping to his feet. His hands were in fists, shoulders rock hard, muscles corded in his forearms. Radar barked. “I’m not asking for your badge and the keys to the squad car. My sister is missing. What part of that do you not understand?” The last shouted words echoed through the trees.
Ridley’s face softened slightly. He held up a placating palm. “Okay. I get that. I have a sister, too. Manager didn’t have much to say. Pauline has no enemies that he’s aware of. No disagreements with staff or residents, and as far as anyone knows, she’s on vacation, so now you know as much as we do.”
Brent’s eyes flashed. “She would never go on vacation without Radar.”
“Could be she left him with someone and he got loose.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t care,” Ridley snapped once more before he caught himself and sucked in a breath. “We will continue to investigate. If something happened to your sister, we’ll find out what, but you need to stop muddying the waters. Go home.”
“Would you?” Brent said, eyes burning. “If it was your sister?”
Ridley hooked his fingers on his gun belt. “I’m not asking, Mitchell. I’m ordering. I don’t want to arrest you.”
Brent looked as though he was about to explode.
“What about Radar?” Donna asked quickly. “Can we take him?”
Ridley considered, kneeling to examine the dog, but Radar backed away with a growl.
“He’s aggressive?”
“Only when he gets a bad vibe from people,” Brent snapped.
“He’s been traumatized,” Donna put in quickly. “He needs to feel safe be
fore he can be approached by strangers.”
Ridley frowned. “All right. Take the dog. I know where to find you when I need you.”
Donna removed her belt and looped it through Radar’s collar as a makeshift leash. She thrust it into Brent’s hands. He needed something to do before he made things any worse. “Let’s go.”
Brent stared for a moment at the shed, eyes shifting in thought. To her relief, he turned and guided Radar away. They stopped at Harvey’s unit.
“You did a great job taking care of Radar,” Donna soothed.
“Can’t he stay?”
“Not right now, Harvey. We need to take him where he can have his own yard to play in.”
“Until Miss Pauline returns, you mean. Radar lives with Miss Pauline, in her yard.” Harvey’s eyes searched her face.
Donna bit her lip. “Yes, of course. Until Pauline comes back.”
“I’m going to miss him. He likes me,” Harvey said, patting Radar on the back.
“I’ll bring him to visit.”
Harvey gave Radar a final pat and watched from the door as they headed back to the parking lot.
Brent was silent and there was really nothing more Donna could think of to say until they reached his motorcycle.
“Maybe Radar should stay at my place,” Donna said.
“Dog’s coming with me.”
“You’re living on a boat. He needs a yard to run.”
“I’ll take him running on the beach.”
“He’s an eighty-pound animal. He needs room.”
“He’s coming with me,” Brent breathed hard. His gaze dropped to his boots. “I’m sorry. Radar’s all I’ve got.”
His only connection to his sister. Maybe the closest he’d ever get to her again. She swallowed the pessimism and touched his shoulder. “How about I give you two a ride to your boat, then, and I’ll bring you back to get your motorcycle later?” She squeezed his hard biceps, cajoling. “Unless you’ve got an extra helmet for Radar?”
He nodded; a sliver of a smile was her reward.
Why did she want to comfort this man she’d hardly met? And why wouldn’t he leave her thoughts? She climbed behind the wheel of her SUV. Brent opened the door for Radar, who launched himself into the backseat. The dog let out a bark that made the windows rattle.
“No backseat driving,” she said.
As they drove out of the parking lot, both Radar and Brent stared out the window, perhaps with the same question on their minds.
What had happened to Pauline?
SEVEN
Sunlight could not penetrate the clouds as they drove toward the Glorietta Bay Marina. The three docks were filled with a hundred boats of all descriptions, from small runabouts to top-of-the-line yachts, and the public dock was busy with tourists eager to book bay cruises and water taxis despite the weather. Some boats berthed in the harbor were festooned with Christmas lights that would bring the marina to life at sunset. Donna was sucked into the memory before she knew it, the time when her father’s marine buddy had motored them out around the bay on a New Year’s Eve two years before when the boats were still decked out in their holiday finest.
“Don’t have to wait for New Year’s,” her father had whispered in her ear just before they toasted with cups of steaming cocoa at midnight. “Every morning is a blessing and a clean slate.”
She’d been angry at the time, knowing he was praying that she’d detach herself from Nate. It was as if Nate had had some power over her, with his confidence, the way he pursued her, the inconsistent attention that was so intoxicating when it was focused on her. He’d shown up in her world when she was vulnerable and he’d exploited her every weakness. No, she’d let him exploit her. She’d refused the toast her father suggested that night and later met up with Nate, who’d brimmed with apologies for disappearing with his buddies for several days.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he’d cajoled.
And they had. Too fast in spite of her screams in his ear. He’d lost control thanks to the marijuana she had not realized he’d smoked.
How weak she’d been, how right her father. Thank God that He’d saved her.
“Where’d you go?”
She blinked to find that Brent was looking closely at her.
“Just...recalling something.”
“Someone, more likely. I’m a good listener, if you want to share.”
To share with him? All her humiliation and shame? She shrugged in a “not your business” kind of way. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take Radar for a run at the dog beach. He needs time outside before you coop him up on that boat. I’ll bring him back.”
Brent frowned. “I’m going to take care of the dog. Don’t worry about him. You can just leave us here.”
“A quick run on the beach. Then I’ll leave.” She didn’t understand the chill that crept into her body then as she avoided the lustrous brown eyes that sought hers out. Brent was confident in himself, handsome, enticing, just like Nate.
As if to add his support to her idea, Radar snaked out a pink tongue and licked Brent behind the ear.
He laughed. “All right, you big baby. Go for your playtime.”
She drove to Ocean Boulevard and squeezed the SUV into a parking place. Radar was quivering with excitement when she led him down to the beach. A sprinkling of rain lent a chill to the air, leaving the shore empty of visitors.
Radar did not seem to mind. When she let him off leash, he bolted to the water, sniffing clumps of kelp and dodging the waves. Seeing him running free and relishing the cool of the morning made her smile.
“Hey,” Brent said. “If I was prying back there in the car, I apologize.”
“No need.”
“There is if I made you uncomfortable.” He ran a hand over her arm, which made her shiver. “I don’t want to do that, ever.”
“Nope. Just fine. I’m going to go give my sisters a call.”
“Sure thing.”
She practically sprinted up the beach toward the elegant Hotel Del, its rich red roof poking up into the clouded sky. In the distance, a helicopter thrummed. Military exercises from North Island Naval Air Station.
Her bare feet sank into the sand as she put some distance between herself and Brent. Radar pranced happily in the waves and she sneaked a look back. Brent was staring out at the ocean, his own cell phone held to his ear. Hoping for a message from his sister? Had he really felt bad about prying? Or was it that easy charm that oozed out of him unconsciously?
Donna checked her texts as a teen strolled across the grass toward the beach, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.
No change for Sarah. Doctors feel confident. Meeting for dinner at Candace’s after hospital. Dragging Mom there at five.
Donna sent a confirmation.
Waves scoured the beach and the rain held at a gentle patter. A little water wouldn’t hurt Radar and the poor dog was so thrilled to be outside after being locked in the shed.
The teen had reached the sand, moving toward her, keeping to the firmer sand.
She smiled a greeting.
He did not return the smile. His faded gray eyes were wide; he had scruffy facial hair. His expression, she finally discerned, was both haggard and crazed. And, she realized with a surge of fear, he wasn’t a teenager.
Before she could turn and escape, he ran to her and grabbed her by the front of her Windbreaker.
“If you scream,” he said. “I’ll kill you.”
* * *
There were no messages, so Brent watched the helicopter circling the water. He’d spent hours in the great shuddering monsters, rotors churning against the worst weather God could dish out. The noisy sixty-four-foot Jayhawks seemed enormous until they were hovering over the massive ocean, looking for a victim amid twe
nty-foot waves and hurricane-force winds.
“Go get ’em, boys,” he muttered, feeling a desire to be aboard that took his breath away. Doing something. Saving someone. Taking control. Another ten days and he’d hopefully be cleared to resume duty, or maybe sooner.
But how could he do that without knowing about Pauline? The uncertainty was killing him, but maybe the knowing would be even worse. No, it wouldn’t. He was a rescuer. He would save her.
Radar bounded over and shook himself. Droplets of sandy water shot everywhere and Brent flung up a hand to shield himself.
“You’re gonna be trouble, I can tell,” he said.
Radar flopped over on his back for a belly rub.
Brent complied. Even the toughest military men, from navy SEALs to army rangers, could not resist a canine belly offered up in trust. His gaze drifted to Donna, and he was surprised to find her talking to someone else. A kid, maybe, or a scrawny adult? Hard to tell through the drizzle and the distance.
Brent stayed put. Donna didn’t want him close. That much was certain. No law against admiring her from a distance, though, her hair dancing in the breeze, body slim and elegant against the ocean backdrop. He continued to watch. They must have been well acquainted, as the guy was close. He shifted, Radar whining when the belly scratch was discontinued.
“Hey, boy, want to walk down the beach? Sand looks better over there.”
He edged along and to his satisfaction, Radar took off, sprinting ahead, giving Brent the excuse to move toward Donna. The guy was still talking to her and the closer Brent got, the more confused he became.
The stranger was very close, intimate, as if he were sharing a secret with her, leaning in, nearer to that lush mouth. What would Donna see in a scrawny dude like that? His own jealousy surprised him. Pride talking, Mitchell. They can’t all be rescue swimmers, now, can they?
Trying to pretend as if he wasn’t staring, he took another look from the corner of his eye. He’d learned to read body language in his rescue duties. Would the victim panic and dive for their rescuer? Cling with a death grip to the piece of wreckage holding them afloat? Now his nerves were jangling.
