Seaside Secrets

by Dana Mentink

  “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.”

  “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.

  Dan waved to Vin, the owner, and guided Angela to a corner booth. She slid in next to him, gaze darting
around the place, which was fairly busy in spite of the late hour. Spillover festivalgoers devoured slices of pie and coffee, plates of waffles and eggs. No sign of Tank. “Can I get you something to eat?”

  She jerked. “What?”

  “Food.” He waved at the owner. “Vin makes a mean stir-fry.”

  She raised an eyebrow and quirked her lips. “I was expecting burgers and omelets.”

  “He makes those, too. We should order something so we look less conspicuous. Besides, Vin is putting three kids through college. Sitters don’t pay the tuition unless they’re eating.” Dan was about to go to the counter and order when Angela sat up straighter. She stared over his shoulder, lips pressed together as Tank joined them.

  He sported a canvas jacket that had seen better days, turned up at the collar, and the same baseball cap he’d worn at the scene of the explosion. His face, though wider and dead serious, was indeed the image of his brother Julio’s. Dan knew it was the face Angela saw in her memories, reliving the moments before Julio Guzman was shot. It was a face he’d never forget either, a patient lost in spite of every bit of medical expertise he could muster. Losing. He detested it.

  Tank sat across from them, hunched low. “Why are you here?” he said to Dan.

  “Waiting to eat. What do you want with Angela?”

  “Didn’t know you two were friends.”

  Dan let the comment sit there. The silence grew. Tank shifted, looking from one to the other and finally settling on Angela. “You really a detective?” he said, jutting his chin at her.

  “My family owns a detective agency. I help out.”

  “Not a chaplain anymore?”

  “I’m still a chaplain,” she said quietly.

  His eyes narrowed. “Get anybody killed lately?”

  Dan heard Angela suck in a breath. He moved to toss Tank out of the booth, but Angela stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Tank, there is no one sorrier than I am about what happened to your brother.”

  “Sorry doesn’t matter. He’s still dead. Except for my wife and my mother, he’s practically the only family I had in this world, the only family I get to see, anyway.”

  Dan saw the delicate muscles of her throat tighten.