by Dana Mentink
“Great,” Sarah said cheerfully. “We’ll go see those sunflowers and I’ll make some lemonade. Pete, please join us when you can.” And she sailed out with Ivy.
Chad’s father shrugged and followed. Chad figured he now knew where Dory got some of her inner steel.
All right. If she could handle herself, he’d try, as well.
“Mr. Winslow, I apologize for us barging into your office, but Blaze is alive and he’s made threats against your daughter and possibly his aunt,” Chad said.
Pete blanched. “Threats?” His worried glance flicked over Dory and she nodded. “The aunt’s name is Angela Robertson, correct?”
“Yes, Dad. Why?”
“Because I got a message on the machine this morning from an Angela Robertson wanting to meet with me.”
Dory’s brows arched in surprise.
Chad felt the same, but he forged ahead. “I know we’ve got some bad road behind us, but we both want Dory safe, so I’m asking for your cooperation.”
Pete looked at the top of his desk. “I’ve never liked you, Chad.”
Chad’s chin went up a few inches. “I know. I’m not asking for your approval, just your help.”
Pete released a long, slow huff. “That file is in the storage room. I was going to go over it with Angela when she arrived later today.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “I have to go give an affidavit at the courthouse. I’ll make some calls from the car on my way to see if I can find out anything.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Dory said.
His face softened for a moment. Then he turned to Chad. “I’m doing this for Dory and Ivy.”
Chad met Pete’s stare. “Me, too.”
A long, silent moment passed between them and Chad felt as if there was some sort of détente formed in that space of time, at least temporarily. Pete walked out. A car engine fired to life in the front lot and he drove away.
Dory blew out a breath and sagged against the doorjamb. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She looked so small and exhausted. Two scratches on her neck served as a reminder of their terrifying experience in the gorge. She’d been juggling so much, trying in that earnest, fully committed way of hers to make everything right. Without thinking, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. She fit as perfectly as he remembered in his arms, her crown of hair ticking his chin.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that was uncomfortable.”
“It’s partly my fault. I’ve made a mess of things,” she mumbled into his chest. “I thought I was being a good mom doing everything myself, but seeing Rocky’s face, and yours, knowing you missed out on...” Her tears wet his shirtfront.
He tipped her chin up and his resentment faded away as he sought to comfort her. “You’ve raised an amazing daughter and you endured all the hard times by yourself. I probably wouldn’t have done a very good job in the parenting department anyway. I was so angry, and I let that take over my life. It would have spread to Ivy’s, too. You’re a good mom, Dory. I just hope I can be as good a dad.”
Her smile was so radiant then, as if he’d just given her the Hope Diamond. He could not resist pressing a kiss to her mouth. The gesture was light and sweet, an impulse to comfort perhaps. But it sent through him the most tender longing, a sense of peace and wholeness that he hadn’t felt ever, even on the eve of his intended proposal. The impulse bubbled out before he thought it through. “Maybe you don’t have to move.” He rushed on. “We can start over, you and me.”
She jerked back, staring at him. “Become a couple again?”
“Yes. It would be the best thing for Ivy.”
He felt her tension, but he didn’t understand it. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t suggest getting back together just because you know we have a child.”
“Isn’t that a good reason?”
“Yes, but it’s not enough.”
He tried to figure out how to fix whatever he’d said. The words eluded him.
She continued before he could come up with anything.
“You stopped loving me five years ago. Your feelings haven’t changed since then, have they?” Her voice was tremulous and earnest.
“That doesn’t matter. We have a child. It’s my job to help raise her.”
“Your job?” Her lip quivered. “Duty is not a good foundation for a marriage.”
He fisted his hands on his hips. “It’s what a dad is supposed to do. I can get us a place so you wouldn’t need to move away. Help with the costs and—”
“Ivy and I don’t need you,” Dory blurted.
He felt something inside slam shut at her tone. He stepped back.
“I meant...” she began.
“Pretty clear what you meant.”
“Chad—”
He cut her off. “We’d better find that file.”
She wiped her face with her sleeve and walked down the hallway toward the back of the building. He fell in behind her.
You stopped loving me five years ago.
It was true. But for a moment there, lost in that kiss, he thought he might have felt the flicker of a new kind of love kindling in his heart. He’d tried to express it in his growing desire to take care of them both, but she clearly didn’t want anything from him, not care, nor affection, nor anything deeper that he might dream up.
Ivy and I don’t need you.
Six words had quenched whatever fantasy he’d imagined.
Bitterness tugged at his heart. They weren’t meant to be a couple. He’d solve the case for his father and keep the mother of his child safe.
End of story.
THIRTEEN
A cold weight settled in Dory’s chest even as her lips still tingled from Chad’s kiss.
Ivy and I don’t need you. She regretted having to say it, but she could not allow Chad to delude himself into pretending they could be a couple because she’d had his child. It would only lead to resentment in the end. Better to go it alone than to enter into a relationship born of duty or guilt.
The rotten thing was that she couldn’t escape the strange emotions that had started prickling to the surface the moment she’d seen Chad back at the canyon. She had the sneaking suspicion she might even be falling in love with him all over again. No, she thought, biting her lip. Those feelings were smoke from a long-ago fire, memories of an intense relationship, her first love.
That was why her heart beat faster when he was near. Sentimentality about the past. Again she thought of the kiss, and her somersaulting senses refused to be still. How was she going to navigate the parenting waters with a man who evoked such confusion in her? “One thing at a time,” she mumbled savagely.
Chad spoke from behind her. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” She opened the door to a small, windowless storage room no bigger than a walk-in closet. Tucked inside were two upright drawers filled with older files. Though Dory had eventually convinced her father to transition to a computer, Pete Winslow kept his old-school setup. The tight space required them both to crowd inside and all but close the door to open the file drawer.
She located the one she needed, the file Angela was eager to see, as well.
Jaggert, R.
Opening the manila folder, she scanned the contents while Chad eased closer. His shoulder touched hers and again her pulse ticked up a notch.
Blinking hard, she refocused, resolved to solve the case before her emotions got any more muddled.
She thumbed a page. “Here’s the invoice for the fishing excursion. It confirms that Angela booked the trip for Blaze. There’s no mention of Mary joining in, except for a handwritten note at the bottom indicating she arrived at the last minute, paid cash.
“It squares with what Angela told us, but then again, it could support Blaze’s story, also. If Angela somehow arranged the accident to
kill Blaze, she would have made sure her sister was not aboard.”
Chad frowned and traced a finger along the paper. She tried not to register the clean smell of soap that clung to him. “Angela said Blaze caused the sinking in order to kill his mother. Maybe he persuaded Mary to join him at the last minute? I still don’t see how the thing could have been done.”
Chad was reading ahead on the next page. “There’s the information about the blood alcohol levels and such, and Dad’s testimony that all he’d drunk that day was coffee from his thermos.”
The thermos had never been recovered.
“How would he not have tasted the alcohol?”
Chad sighed. “Vodka doesn’t have a strong taste and my dad drinks coffee dark enough to peel paint, plus he adds sweetener and cream.”
She mulled it over. “Even if the thermos had been found and it contained alcohol, Rocky could have put it there himself. It wouldn’t have cleared him unless there were other fingerprints found on it.” She felt his tension. “I know you dived that area for weeks looking for it.”
“So did the police and Coast Guard divers. We all figured it had been swept out to sea.” He went quiet.
She knew he was lost in the details of that night. The boat had overturned in the Driftwater Cove when a rogue wave hit, cracking the windshield and flooding the cabin where Mary and Blaze had been. Though he could not recall specifics, Rocky had testified that, to the best of his recollection, he had been at the back of the boat, tending the fishing gear. He’d been thrown overboard but managed to cling to a bucket that went over, too. It had been a cloudy day, with a storm threatening to arrive later. Visibility was poor. They were about ready to head back to the docks when the accident occurred.
Tom Rourke had checked in at the dock with a supply of bait for Rocky, but he’d been running late and missed the boat. He borrowed a motor skiff to intercept, but when he’d finally found The Second Wind, it was overturned, Mary and Blaze missing. He’d called the Coast Guard, but it had been too late to save anyone but Rocky.
“My dad said it should have been him that died.” Chad still sounded as though his mind was caught up in that awful day. He sighed. “I’m afraid the stress of this whole thing is going to make him start drinking again. He got sober in prison, but...”
She had known his father’s alcoholism was the greatest stressor in Chad’s younger days. How many times had he excused himself from their dates, finding reasons to swing by his house? She knew it had been a cover story so he could check on his father. She’d found Chad one time, head in his hands on the tiny front porch, face bleak. Inside, an inebriated Rocky was singing some tuneless song.
I canceled Dad’s charters for the day, Chad had said, mouth tight. Dunno how we’re going to cover the bills this month.
I can help, she’d said quietly.
Wrong thing to say.
We don’t need charity, he’d immediately snapped, the humiliation written across his face. Gus said I can have extra hours at the ranch.
And working at the Roughwater included a few meals, too. She’d been horrified when she’d learned that the cookies she’d baked in Home Economics class had served as Chad’s breakfast and lunch for a couple of days after his dad drank away their grocery money. After that, she’d regularly made up excuses to try out recipes that would conveniently result in plentiful leftovers for Chad and Rocky.
The pain in his voice was too much. She turned and put her palm on his chest. “We’re going to find answers if there are any to be found.” At the very least, Rocky might find comfort when they proved without a shadow of a doubt that Blaze had survived the accident.
He half smiled and shifted until he broke the connection between them.
Ivy and I don’t need you. Another helping of pain she’d meted out. Clearing her throat, she turned to the section about Blaze.
There was a photocopied picture of Blaze as a preteen, standing between a smiling Mary and Scott Turner. It was the same one that had circulated directly after the accident. She still remembered the headline: Boating Under the Influence Causes Death of Mother and Stepson. She’d tried to get close to Rocky or Chad at the trial, to tell them how sorry she was, but they’d been surrounded by lawyers and press. The one time she’d locked eyes with Chad across the courtroom, he’d swiftly looked away, as if having her around caused him physical anguish.
Maybe it still did. He increased the space between them.
“Let’s go back to the office. More room.”
“Sure.” A strange smell froze Dory in her tracks. “Chad, is that smoke?”
His fingers reached for the slightly opened door when it was abruptly pulled closed. He went for it again, but this time something was wedged underneath that made it catch. Smoke trickled under the threshold in a thickening cloud.
Chad attacked the door again, kicking at whatever had wedged it shut. What she’d seen over his shoulder through the slightly opened door made her want to scream. A wall of smoke, the orange flicker of flames. The entire hallway was ablaze.
Chad threw himself against the wood with all his might, but whatever was holding it stuck tight. They were trapped.
Chad moved her to the back of the storage room. “Get down on the floor, where the air is cleaner.”
He crouched next to her and dialed his phone. “You call 9-1-1 while I try to get my father.”
Acrid smoke stung her nostrils as she dialed, choking out her message to the dispatcher.
“My dad’s not answering. I left a voice mail.” He scanned the room.
“No exits,” she said, eyes streaming now. “Only the door.”
“The fire department will be here soon.”
Not soon enough. She felt as if she was already suffocating on the noxious fumes. “Wait. There’s an attic access.”
“Smoke’s gonna rise into the attic, too.”
“But there’s a window there. It’s small, but it opens into the rear parking lot. We stored some of Ivy’s Christmas presents up there last year.”
He was already on his feet, shoving the file cabinet out of the way to get to the framed three-by-three cutout in the ceiling. He pushed the panel aside and hauled down a wooden ladder. Taking the rungs two at a time, he disappeared. A moment later, his face reappeared above her. “Come up.”
Racked by coughs, Dory stumbled up the ladder. Her feet slipped and she almost fell, but his hand shot out and gripped her wrist, steadying her the rest of the way.
The attic beams were partially covered by plywood in the center, home to some dusty storage boxes. It was stiflingly hot and sweat trickled down her spine as she crawled after Chad to the window.
Muscles straining, he tried to lift it open, but it was stuck fast. Instead he kicked through the glass with his boot and cleared away the remaining shards.
“You can crawl out. It’s about a fifteen-foot drop, but there’s a drainpipe. Remember how you used to shimmy up and down that rope in Phys Ed class? Everyone called you Cliffhanger after that.”
She returned his smile with a shaky one of her own. “I remember.”
“Okay. Time to strut your stuff, Cliffhanger.”
She scooted feetfirst through the empty window frame while he held her wrists. Outside, she dangled there for a stomach-dropping moment while her feet flailed for purchase.
“I got a foothold,” she told him jubilantly. “The drainpipe feels solid enough to hold both of us.”
He gave her a thumbs-up through the smoke. “You go on down. Run away from the building, okay?”
It was at that precise moment when she realized the terrible reality.
Chad could not fit through the small window.
He was trapped inside.
* * *
Chad could hardly see her through the smoke, but he felt her reverse direction.
“No,” he said, push
ing her away. “Go down, Dory. Right now.”
Her eyes were wide through the veil of smoke. “I’m not leaving you here.”
He barred her way back through. “Fire department will be here any minute, and I’ve got fresh air via this window. Go down.”
Her voice hitched. “No, Chad.”
He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. Again he marveled at how she could be both delicate and strong at the same time. “Get along with you, Cliffhanger. I’ll be all right.”
“Chad...”
“Can’t risk both of us, honey,” he said as gently as he could. “Ivy needs her mother.”
Tears crowded her eyes. “She needs her father, too. What I said before—”
He leaned through the window and stopped her with a kiss. He knew he shouldn’t have, but if he wasn’t going to make it out of that attic, he wanted her to remember that he’d loved her, once upon a time. That he believed in her. “You’re a great mom, Dory. Now go.” He all but shoved her back out onto the drainpipe.
He could barely make out a couple of vehicles speeding up into the parking lot, but neither came with the coveted red lights and sirens. The heat was nearly unbearable, and he pressed his face to the gap, trying to feel a whiff of cool air. He craned his neck to catch sight of Dory safely on the ground. Had she gotten away?
He would have gladly leaped straight out that window if he could have squeezed his shoulders through. The important thing was that Dory had made it. A siren squealed in the distance as he fought dizziness. He pulled his shirt over his mouth to filter the smoke, but it was thick now, filling the corners of the attic. Most people who died in fires didn’t burn to death, Mitch had told him. They died from smoke inhalation. He climbed back toward the ladder and lurched his way down, vowing to try once more to force the door open. His vision began to go fuzzy.
His throat was dry as he recalled Aunt Ginny’s advice about gratitude.
God, thank You for letting me meet my daughter, he thought as he drifted into unconsciousness.
FOURTEEN