by Dana Mentink
He saw the guy flinch and he knew he’d won. Whoever this was, he didn’t want to stick around. He scanned the shoreline and a crafty look came over his face.
“Maybe when the coasties arrive, they can save your girlfriend for you, Boy Wonder.”
Girlfriend?
Brent whirled back to face the shore. Donna was not there. Away and to his left he caught sight of her swimming toward the point, her head just visible over the waves. Fran must have fallen and Donna must have gone after her.
His instinct was to strike out immediately and help her, protect her, sacrifice himself if necessary to save her.
But he had a victim to rescue.
Everything in him strained to go to Donna. It seemed as if his soul were churning through those waves with her, his heart inextricably bound to hers.
Don’t lose her. Save her.
Instead, he grabbed Darius and swam with all the strength and speed he could summon toward the shore.
TWELVE
Fran was unresponsive when Donna finally made it to her. She checked for a pulse and felt a tiny thrumming in her carotid, or was it the trembling in Donna’s fingers? She flipped Fran onto her back and began to tow her in, but the current seemed to have other plans.
For every foot of progress, the water swept them back toward the open sea. Radar paddled out to her.
“Good boy,” she gasped.
The dog chomped down on Fran’s jacket and began to tug. Was it a game to him? Or did he somehow know the humans needed help? She didn’t care.
Radar’s added strength made all the difference. Donna kicked as hard as she could, stroking with one arm while the dog kept up his share of the load. They were within fifty feet of the shore, still in deep water, when Brent made it to them.
“Can you swim back on your own?” he said.
She nodded.
Radar let go and Brent held on to Fran. He ordered Donna and Radar to go ahead of them. So he could make sure they made it back, she realized. Indeed, it took all her remaining reserves of strength to haul herself up on the sand and she fought against pain in her back.
On the beach, Brent laid Fran down next to Darius, who was sitting up.
He crawled to her on hands and knees. “Frannie.”
Brent pushed him away. “Get off and let me check her out.”
Donna was relieved when he sat back. “She’s breathing on her own.”
Radar trotted over. He sniffed at Fran’s hair and made his way to Darius, who swatted at him. Radar stiffened, the scruff of hair on his neck rising, and he barked furiously at Darius.
Brent pulled Radar off, but he continued to bark, darting closer to Darius and then away when Brent ordered him back.
Donna finally grabbed Radar by the collar and hauled the dog away down to the surf, where he began to chase some seagulls that had arrived. When she was reasonably sure the dog was distracted, she returned to Brent, who was finishing up his 911 call.
Fran had started to mumble and shiver. Brent climbed back to the car and returned with a blanket, which he draped over Fran, and his jacket, which he wrapped around Darius, continuing to monitor both victims.
Darius patted Fran’s hand. “Wake up, Frannie. Why’d you have to follow me, huh? I told you a million times to leave me be.”
“She was worried about you,” Donna said. “Drunk people shouldn’t be sailing. Why did you come here?”
He didn’t look at her. “Told you a million times,” he repeated softly to Fran.
“Who do you owe money to?” Brent asked.
Darius still did not look at them, just crooned softly, swiping a hand under his nose.
“He needs to sober up,” Brent said in disgust.
Paramedics made their way down the trail and took over. Brent and Donna were given blankets and were crowded away from the victims.
Donna watched Darius’s abandoned boat making its haphazard journey out into the Pacific Ocean. “Radar seems to know this beach, and Darius does, too.” Pieces of the puzzle swirled around in her mind. “Pauline brought Radar here. It’s pretty coincidental that this place happens to be significant to Darius. I don’t think I buy the ‘roses for his mother’ bit.”
Brent was quiet, lips drawn tight.
“What’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have gone in after Fran,” he snapped. “It wasn’t smart. You’re not trained for water rescue.”
“And you’re not trained as a vet, but you’re helping tend to Radar.”
“Don’t be facetious. This isn’t funny.” He rubbed at the water dripping from his hair.
“I’m a strong swimmer. Everything turned out fine.”
“You made things more difficult. Added victims to the water.”
“You couldn’t have saved both Fran and Darius.”
“Yes, I could. I do it all the time. It’s my job.”
A flame of anger ignited in her belly. “Why are you lambasting me?”
“You made a bad choice.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “So you’re the only one who can be a hero?”
“I’m not...” He broke off, nostrils flared. “I’m not a hero. I do what I’m trained to do. You put yourself at risk.”
“So you always yell at Good Samaritans who try to help?”
He hitched his hands on his hips. “I am not yelling. I’m just upset.”
Upset, she wondered, or something else? The corners of his mouth pinched; shadows under his eyes showed evidence of sleepless nights. The anger in her belly cooled. She cocked her head and considered, watching the muscles work in his strong jaw and the flicker of something deep in his eyes. “I think, Brent Mitchell, that you’re scared.”
He gaped. “Scared?”
“Yes.”
“This is what I do all the time in conditions way worse than this. Why would I be scared?”
“Because for a minute you felt helpless to save Fran and me.” She reached out to touch him. “And helpless is the worst thing you could possibly feel because of what happened before.”
He blinked, his mouth twitching.
“I don’t need you to rescue me,” she added softly. “I’m not Carrie.”
A long moment stretched between them and she knew she’d crossed the line. What made her feel the need to probe Brent’s psyche?
Then his self-control returned, he huffed out a breath, and he stepped back from her, turning toward the sound of the police siren.
“Think what you want, Donna,” he said. “This isn’t about what happened to Carrie.”
Oh, yes, it is, she thought. Her heart broke a little bit for Brent Mitchell, the man who couldn’t save his fiancée.
She shivered. Would he endure the same terrible situation with Pauline, too? She said a prayer that he would not have to face such a horrible truth.
* * *
Brent marched to Ridley, eager to put Donna’s accusation behind him. She was way off base ignoring responsibility for her own hazardous choice. His anger was justified, not born of some shadowy phantom of the past.
“Ridley,” he called.
Ridley glowered at him. “And here you are again.”
“Saving lives, if it means anything. Darius would have drowned or been mowed down.” He retold the events of the past hour. Donna joined them as Ridley approached Darius.
“You need to come with me, Mr. Fields,” he said. “We’re gonna have a nice chat after you sleep it off.”
Darius shook his head. “Didn’t do anything wrong. Gonna stay with Frannie.”
“Your girlfriend is going to the hospital. We’ll have the medics check you out and then you’re going to jail after we give you a Breathalyzer.”
His head snapped up, and he g
lared at the officer. “No way. I’m not going to jail.”
“I’m afraid you are,” Ridley said calmly. “Operating a boat while under the influence is a misdemeanor in California, in case you didn’t know.”
“I’m not going to jail ever again,” he snarled. “Not gonna get locked up like an animal.”
“I beg to differ.”
Darius lashed out toward Ridley, but the officer stepped easily aside and Darius fell facedown. Ridley was on him in a moment, handcuffing him. Darius sat up, sand caking his face.
“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, buddy,” Ridley said. “You’re looking at a $1,000 fine right now. Resisting arrest is a whole other level of fun.”
Darius got to his feet, looking down at Fran. The trail was too steep to allow the paramedics to take her by gurney, so they had called for a helicopter. Medics loaded Fran onto the aircraft and it roared away.
“You get well, little girl,” Darius called. “I’ll be there soon.”
Brent heard Donna gasp. Her face was pale, her mouth round with shock.
He took her arm. “What?”
It took her a few tries to get the words out. “You,” she said, staring at Darius. “You called me little girl that night, didn’t you?”
Darius shrugged. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”
“You were the one who attacked me in my dad’s office. You shaved your beard. I knew there was something familiar about you.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Then he offered a slow smile. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”
“No, I don’t. It was your truck on the street at our office, and you attacked me.”
“Yeah?” he said with a leer. “And how are you going to prove that, Detective Donna?”
Brent put an arm around Donna’s waist and pulled her away from Darius. Something in the man’s look was tainted and Brent wanted her distanced from it. She clutched his arm with chilled fingers.
Ridley handed Darius over to another officer. “We’ll find out,” he said to Donna. “While we’ve got him in custody, we’ll figure this all out.”
She nodded.
Ridley surveyed the beach, watching Radar nosing around the sand. “Something happened here. Too bad the rocks can’t talk.”
“Or the dog,” Brent said.
“Yeah.” Ridley pulled his gaze back to Brent. “Got something for you. Jeff Kinsey, the kid who messed with you on the beach, worked as a dishwasher at Open Vistas.”
Brent’s nerves snapped to attention. “Yeah?”
“Manager says he’s a mechanical genius, too. Fixed everything for the residents in his off time, but he’s a drug addict, so they had to can him when he missed too many days of work. He came in pretty beat up one day before he got fired. Your sister was a good friend to him. Took him to the doctor. Loaned him money and such. Helped him find another job after Open Vistas, but I don’t know where yet.”
Brent forced out a breath. “That’s my sister. Her husband was hooked on pain meds, so she knows how the addiction story plays out. She’d want to help.”
“So we’ve got an APB out on him. It’s a small island. We’ll find him.”
“If he’s still here,” Brent groaned. “He thinks my sister left a package for him somewhere, but if he’s given up on finding it, he might have left town.”
Ridley looked offended. “You know we Coronado cops do talk with other law enforcement professionals in the outside world. I said we’ll find him, and we will.” Ridley stalked back to the beach.
Brent called to Radar and started to guide Donna toward the trail, his gut twisted tight with worry. There was no doubt in his mind that Pauline had taken Radar to this beach. And now Donna was convinced that Darius Fields was her attacker. Worry began to claw deeper. Sarah Gallagher’s life almost ended. Pauline missing. Donna in danger.
What had Donna told him her attacker had said?
Those little girls die.
He swallowed the fear he’d felt at seeing her fighting against the ocean, so small in the gaping maw of the sea. Girls had died on his watch before, one who was meant to be his future. Not again. He wasn’t giving his heart to any woman ever again, but he sure as shooting wasn’t going to lose another one on his watch. Pulling her closer to his side, Brent led Donna up the rock trail, desperate to find his sister and determined more than ever to protect Donna Gallagher.
* * *
The next morning, brilliant sunlight streamed through the blinds and awakened Donna. She lay in bed for a while, trying to breathe away the tension that sprang to life in her body. Radar was pacing in the family room, the click of his nails on the hardwood relentless, so she forced her body into motion. Her phone showed no messages, and she felt a surge of disappointment. Forcing Brent to confront his feelings had been a mistake, a huge overstepping on her part. The man was already worried beyond belief about his missing sister.
Was Darius responsible for Pauline’s disappearance? His cruel smile danced in her mind. He was the masked intruder; she knew it with dead certainty. Part of her had known it all along. He wanted her to stop investigating, but was he afraid she’d find out the truth about Pauline? Her father? Or maybe both? Head spinning, Donna made up her mind to go to the police station and talk to Officer Ridley without Brent. She wasn’t sure Brent wanted to work with her at the moment. She fixed herself toast, which she had no appetite for, and fed Radar. She put him in the backyard with plenty of water and a new chew toy.
Her phone buzzed with a voice mail message from Candace. “You’re bringing the gingerbread house tonight, right? Tracy is asking for it. And you’re bringing Brent, too?” Her tone became morose. “We’ve got to keep our minds off Sarah and the hospital, just for one night. I’m worried about Angela, too. She’s all skin and bones. Please come. You’ve got to.”
She wanted to call her sister and say Brent wouldn’t be coming. Why would he want to with everything that had happened? Leaving the bad news for later, she messaged back that she would be there with the gingerbread house and all the candy for decorating.
She grabbed her keys and drove to the corner grocery store, where she piled a basket full with frostings and a premade gingerbread house. It stirred up her pot of guilt when she considered she’d always made the pieces from scratch, rolling them out with Tracy’s help. Even in the years when she’d felt estranged from her family, who despised Nate, she’d built that gingerbread house with Tracy. Well, okay. It wasn’t going to be homemade, but it would be decorated to the nines. She added extra bags of colored candy pieces and a foil Santa complete with nine reindeer pals.
As she headed toward the register, familiar faces nodded and smiled pityingly at her. Hank, the store owner, a retired sailor and longtime friend of the Gallagher family’s, approached and embraced her, basket and all. She struggled for composure in his well-padded hug, with the scrape of his whiskers as he pressed a kiss on her cheek. He pulled her to arm’s length. “How are you holding up, kiddo?”
“As best we can,” she managed, eyes burning.
“Bruce was the finest soldier I ever served with. One of the best men I ever met.”
“Thank you.”
“If there’s anything I can do,” he said, eyeing her basket. “That’s for Tracy, isn’t it?”
She nodded, unable to trust her voice.
He took the basket from her hands and bagged the contents. “On the house.”
“I couldn’t, Mr. Henricks.”
“I insist. Bruce never took a dime when he tracked down the clerk who helped himself from my till. Please,” he said, his voice growing soft. “I know what it’s like at the holidays when you lose someone. Tracy needs some joy. I would be honored if you would allow me to do this.” He drew himself up straight and tall, the proud marine.
She kissed his be
arded cheek. “Thank you so much.”
He nodded and escorted her from the store, then opened her car door and deposited the Christmas bundle on the passenger’s seat.
“You drive carefully, now, Donna. Gonna be praying for the Gallagher family this Christmas.”
The kindness overwhelmed her. There was still joy and goodness and plenty of reason to get down on her knees and thank God for her blessings. Even now, even with a heart twisted by grief.
She was signaling to pull away from the curb when Brent appeared around the corner, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. He did a double take when he saw her, hesitating a moment before he sauntered over to the car.
Nerves tingling, she rolled down the passenger window. He draped his elbows over the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
His eyes scanned the bagful of gingerbread supplies.
“Doing some baking?”
“Yes. Tonight I’m going to put together a house with Tracy after dinner. I’m not really in the mood, but I’m going to summon up some holiday cheer if it kills me.” She swallowed hard. “Would you like to come? My sister Candace would love to have company to even things out.” She knew her cheeks were flaming.
“Uh, well, I’m not sure.”
“I apologize for what I said on the beach. I was out of line.”
He stayed quiet, his chin resting on his arms. “I’m mixed up, about everything.” There was such desperation in his face she yearned to embrace him.
His sigh was heavy. “I just need to find my sister and figure out what happened to your dad.”
And nothing else. No personal attachments. “I understand.”
“I was going to the police station after I finished my run to find out what Ridley pried out of Darius.”
“Me, too, after the gingerbread supply mission.”
He looked again at the contents of the bag. “I guess, I mean, it would be nice to share a family meal. I’ve been living on takeout and breakfast cereal for the past week.”
“I can’t guarantee it will be gourmet, but I know we can top takeout and cereal.” She held her breath.
