by Dana Mentink
He embraced her then, and she let him. His arms pressed away the panic, the fear that grew with every passing day. The heat of his skin melted some of the numbing cold that gripped her.
“I’m checking into it. I’ll have more answers soon.”
“I’ve been in Spanish Canyon for months. Why would he come here now? What am I going to do?”
His embrace tightened. “Come back to the trailer. I’ll keep watch. He won’t get close.”
Protection. Strength. Safety. And a delicious sliver of fascination. Dallas Black made all those things erupt in her belly. She turned so her lips touched the smooth skin of his jaw. His dark hair cocooned her face against the warm hollow of his neck. How her body craved the comfort of his touch, her soul cried out to have a partner to help her through the flood that she knew was far from over.
But she’d had that perfect union before. A God-blessed marriage, or so she’d thought, until she finally saw Hector for what he was. Now “until death do us part” sounded more like a sentence than a comfort. Never again. Never.
She stepped back, sucking in a breath. “I’m going to the college. They’ve got an evacuation shelter set up there.”
He frowned. “You want to go sleep on the gym floor where anyone can get at you and Gracie?”
She took Gracie’s hand. “We’ll be safe there.”
“Safe?” His face was incredulous. “This guy Archie was ready to kill me to get to you.”
“There are lots of people going. We’ll never be alone.”
The muscles of his jaw jumped. “Absolutely not.”
She stiffened. “We’ll be in a group all the time. Never alone. Besides, you don’t make decisions for me.”
“Somebody should, because you’re letting what happened to you with Hector color your judgment.”
Cheeks burning, her stomach tightened into an angry ball. “I’m doing what’s best for Gracie.”
“Are you?” He fisted his hands on his hips, and she saw fresh blood welling through the white gauze when his muscles flexed.
Am I? Suddenly she wondered, but she couldn’t reverse course now. Right or wrong she had to call the shots for Gracie. Just her and no one else. “I’ll return your phone as soon as I can.”
She pulled Gracie along to the van that had just wheezed up the slope, not allowing herself to look back. She knew what was behind her anyway. A disappointed German shepherd.
And one very angry Dallas Black.
EIGHT
“What?” Dallas barked into the phone.
Farley whistled. “Bite my head off, why don’t you? Got a burr under your backpack?”
“Sorry. Bad day.” Too bad to try to explain to Farley. He molded his tone into something that might pass for civil. “Do you have anything for me?”
“Seven P. Finnigans in the vicinity. Sending you those addresses.”
“Thanks.”
“And the car was rented to an Archie Gonzales, from Miami.”
Miami. Not a surprise. “Okay.”
“One more thing, man. Norm, over at the rental car place. I know him, and he’s a crusty old codger. He’s got trackers on the rentals.”
Dallas’s nerves quickened. “Illegal, of course,”
“Of course, but he’s in favor of slapping a nice hefty fee on the cars if they’re taken out of state. Anyway, it was easy to hack into his tracking system.”
“Do I want to know how you did that?”
“Probably not.”
“What did you find out?”
“Most of his routes were routine, except one I found interesting. Guess who he’s been to see recently?”
“Not in the mood for guessing games.”
“Dr. Elias.”
“That’s not news. I think he’s been at the clinic shadowing Mia.”
“Not the clinic. Archie’s been to the doctor’s house.”
His house? Dallas struggled to put it together and almost missed the finish.
“At 3:13 a.m.”
Not the usual time for social calls. “Thanks, Farley. I owe you lunch.”
“Yeah, and a vacation in Maui.”
“We’ll start with lunch.”
“All right, cheapskate.”
Dallas disconnected. The next call would be to Reuben and Antonia. There was no more room to keep secrets. Mia needed to know everything. He swallowed, picturing her maddeningly stubborn brown eyes, the need for independence burning as bright as the hurt. When she knew, she would hate him.
But at least she’d still be alive.
Dallas’s arm throbbed. He strolled as casually as he could through the collection of hastily parked cars on the grassy shoulder of the road, leaving Juno in the truck to catch a nap. He realized he was grinding his teeth when he passed Mia’s battered car. If she’d listen to reason...if she’d consider the smart choice.
Like you did? His conscience flipped through the myriad prideful mistakes he’d made. Rival gang members he’d fought, threatened. Store owners he’d intimidated. Petty theft he’d committed to prove himself to his ersatz family. His damaged body would always be a reminder of that disastrous past.
Most of his shame came when he remembered the way he’d coveted the looks he’d gotten from people, the respect he’d imagined in their eyes. Turns out it was not respect, but fear. He’d been too blinded to turn from the smothering blanket of gang life.
In spite of his brother Trey’s tough love born of experience.
With no regard for his mother’s pleading requests and avalanche of prayers.
It had taken waking up in the hospital with part of his spleen missing and his knee on fire, shaking from alcohol withdrawal and his boyhood dream to become a Marine ruined, for him to fall on his face in front of the Lord. Maybe it was the humiliation of being handcuffed to the hospital bed, knowing he deserved to go to jail for many things, including possession of an illegal firearm and simple assault. Possibly it was the realization that he had shamed his mother, his brother and his father’s memory. Undoubtedly, it was God shouting his name.
At rock bottom, there’s no more room for pride.
Only God.
Once he’d let go, God had shown him the goodness in people, the desperate love of his family, his own potential to be a man who lifted others, rather than striking them down. Somewhere along the way, he’d found there was goodness inside him, as well.
The fall had hurt, and he wished he could help Mia learn what he had without the dramatic descent. He sighed. God’s job, Dallas. Yours is to keep her safe. It was a good reminder. No matter what the oddball storm of feelings brewing inside, Mia was his job, his mission. In spite of the pain from Archie’s knife, and Mia’s ridiculous desire to stay at the college shelter, he moved on through the sea of parked cars.
He saw no sign of Archie’s rental, a small mark in their favor.
Sunset was not due for another hour, but the clouds succeeded in sealing the light away behind a wall of gray. Bad sign. The levees were similarly stressed all over Spanish Canyon and the rivers and catchments swollen to capacity. On an up note, the last weather report he’d heard called for only a mild rainfall in the next forty-eight hours. With that weather break, they might be able to stave off any more serious flooding and evacuations.
The flood lent strange odors to the air—the scent of wet stone, sodden foliage and trees uprooted from centuries of packed earth. Mia’s house was underwater to the eaves, and so was the picture that might shed some light on Cora’s death. He guessed Archie had not been there in Mia’s house looking for the photo, but searching for Garza’s money. However the meeting between Elias and Archie still puzzled him.
He was about to return to his truck, parked well away from the others when a stealthy movement caught his attenti
on. Trick of the cascading shadows? No, there was another pulse of motion near a well-appointed blue BMW.
He drew back, crouching behind Mia’s car to watch as a slight figure stealthily opened the passenger door. Whoever it was wore a hat and a dark windbreaker. Pretty low for someone to take advantage of a disaster situation to rifle through someone’s car. But it was true that disasters brought out both the best and worst in people. He was about to demand an explanation, when he realized this wasn’t a stranger, not a total stranger anyway.
Easing closer, he could see Susan’s profile well enough to be sure it was her, the red-haired woman who’d shown up at his trailer.
And snuck out with your knife, he reminded himself.
Still keeping low between vehicles, he crept nearer.
She sat in the passenger seat of the car, examining the pile of papers in her lap that she’d taken out of the glove box. So intent was she on her mission, she didn’t look up until he wrenched open the door.
With a scream she bolted out, spilling the papers on the muddy ground. For a moment, she stood frozen, staring, chest heaving with panic.
“Breaking-and-entering a specialty of yours?”
She let out a gust of air. “The door was open. That’s not breaking in.”
“Whose car?”
Still no response. Keeping her in his peripheral vision he picked up one of the papers. Catherine Elias. “Why are you interested in Dr. Elias’s wife?”
“She’s a fake.”
“A fake what?”
“She’s living a lie, and I’m going to prove it.”
“I thought you were interested in finding out who killed Cora.”
She nodded, lips tight, eyes flat and hard as wet stones. “That’s right.”
“Do you think Catherine killed Cora?”
“Leave me alone, Dallas. This doesn’t concern you right now.”
He took a step toward her. “You’re coming with me to the police. No more sneaking around breaking into cars. I’m out of patience with these guessing games.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going with you anywhere.”
He did not want to force a woman to do anything against her wishes, but this particular woman was dangerous. He took her wrist, the tendons standing out against the skin, pulse slamming violently through her veins. “You need to come with me, Susan.”
He’d prepared himself for her to pull away. Instead she surged close, her clawed fingers pinching his biceps, face so close her sour breath bathed his face. “Listen to me,” she hissed. “There are dangerous people in this town, people who are not who they appear to be.” Her mouth twitched at the corners, and he fought the urge to recoil.
“Like Mrs. Elias?”
She did not seem to hear him. “Dangerous people who will kill Mia Verde and her little girl, just like they killed Cora. If you try to go to the police, or anyone else, they’ll just kill her quicker.”
His stomach flipped. “Who? Tell me, and I’ll help you.”
She moved back slightly to search his eyes. “Ah, sweet boy. Are you going to protect me from a killer?”
“If I can.”
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said, releasing his shoulders. “It’s the living part that’s scary.”
He felt as though he was stuck in a strange horror film. Was she crazy? Was he, for letting go of her wrist?
The sound of voices made them both turn. Susan quickly returned the papers to the glove box and ducked down, yanking him to a crouch next to her. Through the window they saw Catherine Elias and an orange-vested volunteer consulting a clipboard as they walked toward the car. Catherine pointed to something on the first page and the two stopped to talk.
“Remember,” Susan whispered, “if you tell anyone, Mia and Gracie will die. I’ll contact you when I can.” She sprinted off through the cars and ducked into a screen of trees. He scooted far enough away from Catherine’s car that he would not be taken for a stalker, and then walked back to his truck where he sat on the front seat, brooding.
The obvious course of action was to go to the police, but they already suspected Mia of being involved in Cora’s death. What would they make of his wild story about some mystery woman poking through Catherine’s car?
Her words circled in his gut, cold and heavy. “Dangerous people who will kill Mia Verde and her little girl, just like they killed Cora.”
Now his head pounded right along with the throbbing in his forearm. He should go home, back to the trailer to think it through, but he didn’t want to be that far away from Mia and Gracie with Archie on the loose. If he checked himself in to the college evacuation center, Mia would be furious and possibly try to go find yet another unsuitable place to house herself and Gracie.
Juno poked his nose at Dallas, bringing him back. “What next?” his eyes inquired. The dog was eager to do just about anything Dallas requested except get his nails trimmed. That required several dozen treat bribes and some strong-arming from his owner. “Looks like we sleep in the truck again, boy, but I’ve got some kibble for you, don’t worry.”
He opened the door for the dog.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got any notions on how to handle a stubborn woman, do you, Juno?”
Juno huffed out a breath and laid his head on his paws.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dallas said, giving his friend a pat.
* * *
Mia took the blankets offered to her and found her way to the side of the gym designated for women. She chose two cots together, but at a bit of a distance from the nearby family consisting of a wife and three teenage girls and a few older women who had already set up their makeshift beds. The two older women sat together, hands clasped, praying softly, one with wispy white hair. Perhaps they were sisters. Longing surged through her and she wished Antonia was there.
Gracie stared. “Is that Miss Cora? I want to go see her.”
A pain stabbed deep inside. “No, honey. Just looks like her. The hair is the same color.”
“Oh.” Gracie said, looking up at the ceiling lights. “I don’t like it here. Maybe we can go stay with Miss Cora. She prays nice, with songs and everything.”
Tears collected in Mia’s eyes, and she blinked hard. It hadn’t dawned on her until just then that she had never prayed with Gracie, that she’d funneled her own anger into a deluge that kept her daughter far from the Lord, too. Her choice had bled down to Gracie, staining her with Mia’s own sin.
“Gracie, I’m sorry. Do...do you want to pray with me?”
Gracie nodded, grabbing Mia’s hands. “Okay. I’ll say it. I know how.” Gracie thanked God for Mia and Cora and the cheese sandwich and cookies she’d gotten from the volunteer who’d included an extra sweet for the little girl and the blue blanket and Auntie Nia and Uncle BooBen. “And thanks for Dallas ’cuz he says Daddy can be good again and thanks for Juno ’cuz he plays with me. Ayyyyyy men!” The last word came out in such an unexpected volume that the others shot amused glances their way.
Mia raised an eyebrow. “That was a big amen.”
“Cora says you should always fill up the amen with joy,” Gracie said. “So can we go see her?”
That innocent heart had never confronted death before. Certainly Mia would never have chosen to tell Gracie in the wake of losing every possession to the cruel water that engulfed their house. This time, she did send up a prayer of her own, a halting, awkward, stumbling effort.
Help me tell her.
Help her cope.
Mia forced out the words. “Honey, I have something sad to tell you.”
Gracie regarded her soberly, bouncing a bit on the cot beside her.
“Miss Cora died. I’m so sorry. Her house caught on fire and the smoke got inside her lungs.” Mia watched in fear as Gracie’s brow pucker
ed. “She’s in Heaven now.”
“Oh.” Gracie considered the news as a full fifteen seconds ticked away. “Can we stay at her house until she comes back?”
It was as if her heart shrank smaller and smaller, concentrating the pain until it nearly choked her. “She’s not coming back, baby,” Mia whispered.
“Never?”
Mia took Gracie’s small fingers in her own. “No, honey. Never.”
“Mommy, I think that’s not right. She’s gonna come soon. Can I keep the blanket?” Gracie held up the blue blanket neatly folded at the foot of the cot.
“Yes,” Mia said weakly. “The volunteers said you could if you want to.”
Gracie wrapped herself up and laid down on the cot, singing softly to herself.
Mia watched her, filled with a river of tenderness that almost overwhelmed her. It would sink in, in time, that Cora was gone. Maybe that was a gift God gave his little children, a gradual realization that was kinder, somehow than the swift bolt of knowledge. Shadows crept along the edges of the gym, and quiet conversations gave way to silence. Mia found she could not sleep, though the cot was not at all uncomfortable.
She tossed and turned on the prickly choices she had made, ignoring Dallas’s advice. His words floated back through her memory.
“Ever hear that verse from Proverbs? Starts with ‘trust in the Lord’ and ends with ‘Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.’”
She yanked the covers up around her chin. He could afford to believe such things; he had no one depending on him except for a dog. Dallas would not wake up tomorrow to a hungry child with not a single spare pair of socks, no place to live and nowhere to go. That was going to be Mia’s scenario in the morning and she’d have to figure out how to deal with it.
A gleam of light crept across the gym floor. Someone entered carrying an enormous pile of towels, heading after a moment of hesitation, toward the locker room. She sighed. At least there was the possibility of a hot shower in the morning. Again she tried to force her body to relax on the cot. This time her wandering attention was caught by whispered conversation as two people talked by the light of a battery-powered lantern.
