by Dana Mentink
Too much tension, stiffness in Donna’s shoulders. Not love. Fear.
He sprinted toward Donna and the stranger.
As he got there, the guy let go of Donna and pulled a gun from his pocket.
“You come closer and I’ll kill both of you.”
The gun shook in the guy’s hand. Brent saw now the assailant was in his early thirties, maybe. The red-rimmed eyes, shortness of breath and hollow cheeks spoke of drug abuse. His grimy long sleeves no doubt covered needle tracks.
“You can have whatever’s in my wallet,” Brent said. “Take it and walk away.”
He fixed desperate eyes on Brent. “Your sister had something for me. I need it.”
His skin went cold. “How do you know my sister? Who are you?”
“I’m her friend Jeff Kinsey. She was helping me and she left something. I couldn’t find it at her place. Did you take it?”
Brent exchanged a look with Donna as the idea hit home. “Were you the one in her basement?”
“No.” Jeff chewed his chapped lower lip. “I need it. I gotta get away. She promised.”
“Where’s my sister?” Brent took a step closer.
Jeff steadied the gun. “Where’s my package?”
He heard a roaring in his ears. “If you want something from me, tell me what you did to my sister.”
“Don’t make me kill you.” He tightened his grip on the gun.
“You’re gonna have to,” he yelled, stepping in front of Donna, “because you’re not leaving this beach until you tell me what you did to Pauline.”
Radar reacted to the urgent tone and came running toward them at full clip. Jeff swiveled the gun toward Radar. Brent barreled into him, driving his head into Jeff’s stomach.
The guy toppled over as expected, but he kept his grip on the gun. Radar’s barks rose in a frenzy as he leaped and jumped, uncertain how to proceed. Brent grabbed for the gun hand. Jeff’s cold bony fingers clutched it tightly. Donna gripped the back of Jeff’s T-shirt and yanked.
“Back off,” Brent grunted to her, terrified that Jeff would squeeze off a shot and hit her.
She didn’t listen. Now she’d gotten one hand on Jeff’s hair and pulled hard. Jeff gasped, wriggling so violently that she lost hold and fell over. The shift in momentum sent Brent somersaulting across the sand. In a moment, all three were on their feet again, Jeff still clutching the gun.
“Gonna shoot you,” he said, spittle flinging from his chapped lips.
“You’re going to tell me what you did to my sister,” Brent commanded, wishing he could tell Donna to run. “Right now.”
He saw Jeff’s finger hesitate on the trigger. Better get a vital organ, kid, because I’m coming for you.
A truck pulled up along the street. Jeff shot it a quick glance and hissed something under his breath. Then he took off running away from them up the beach. The truck idled a moment and then motored away, paralleling Jeff’s movement as he sprinted, sending up puffs of sand.
Brent and Donna watched, both breathing hard, until both the truck and Jeff were out of sight.
“What just happened?” Donna whispered. Her hair was hanging in damp waves, her lips parted, eyes wide. If she wasn’t so completely attractive, he might have been able to rally a proper head of steam. Instead, he found himself grateful that she wasn’t hurt.
“You should have run.”
“You needed help.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He was going to shoot Radar.”
Brent glowered at Radar, who had gone off to sniff a scrabbling crab. “Some German shepherd. I’ve seen hamsters more ferocious than that.”
“He’s a therapy dog, not a police dog.”
Wearily, he took out his phone, dialed the cops and left a message for Ridley. “He’ll be thrilled to hear from me again.”
“This time, we weren’t interfering. Jeff found us.”
“Yes, he did,” Brent said, his stomach tight. “He’s been watching. He was probably the guy who escaped through the bathroom window, which means it probably wasn’t my sister we saw that night.” Muscles in his throat convulsed. “Was he the one that attacked you at the office?”
“I don’t think so. He sounds different.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”
Her hands closed over his. “Right now I’m not sure of anything.”
And there it was, the twin strands of courage and fear shining in her expression. There was such strength in those eyes, yet at the same time, she was fragile, vulnerable. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, arms hard around the softness of her body.
“You could have been hurt,” he murmured.
He heard her breath catch. For a split second she relaxed into him, her cheek grazing his, lighting a glow inside him before she pulled away.
“I’m okay.”
Two blooms of pink appeared on her cheeks and her lips quivered. He’d done it again. Gone too far. Made her feel uncomfortable. He looked away at the cloud-cloaked horizon to regain his composure and let her find hers.
“What did Pauline leave for him, if he’s telling the truth in the first place?” she asked.
It made no sense. “I don’t care what she left or didn’t leave. I need to know what he’s done to my sister.”
“Whatever Jeff is looking for could lead us to answers.” Donna shoved a tangle of hair out of her face.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Her lips were parted, and he forced himself to look instead at her eyes. She had long lashes, and her eyebrows were crimped in thought. “What? What are you thinking?”
“Donna, that truck, the one that took off after Jeff.”
She cocked her head, waiting.
“It looks like the same one I saw at your father’s office the night you were attacked.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “So I was right? Whatever happened to my father is wrapped up in this, too?”
“Possibly.”
She took a shuddering breath. “I wonder if the cops will believe me now.”
If only the lead cop didn’t have it in for Brent. “Things between me and Ridley are impacting the investigation.” He forced the words out. “You’d be better off following your sisters’ advice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stay out of it—leave it to the police.”
“But you’re not going to do that?”
“No, I’m going to follow the trail as long as I can. I’m not going to stop looking for my sister, ever, and that’s going to annoy Ridley, which is going to make waves. I’m probably risking my career.”
“But rescue swimming is your whole life.”
It felt as though he was swallowing a shard of glass. “And it will kill me to lose that, but I have to find my sister.”
“We’re working together, remember?”
“That was before. You’d better step away. I’m going to do whatever I need to and you don’t want to get into trouble working with me on this.” He imagined her turning, walking out of his life forever. For some reason, it hurt to think about losing this woman he’d met only the day before. He wasn’t ready to hurt again. After Carrie, he might never be. He squared his shoulders. “Anyway, thank you for finding Radar. I’m going to take good care of him, I promise.”
An odd smile drifted across her lips, a flush of sudden determination. “Number three is Darius Fields.”
“What?”
“The third name on my dad’s list in Pauline’s file.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“And Jeff Kinsey is second.”
“And that leaves yours truly as the number one.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you tell
ing me this now?”
“Because,” she said. “We both need answers and the only way we’re going to get them is by working together.”
“Ridley—”
“Ridley can puff and blow all he wants. My father was a marine. He never gave up and neither will I.”
Moisture shimmered in her eyes, her shoulders strong and squared.
A quick electric thrill coursed through his nerves. “So we’re going to be detectives,” he said slowly, “together?”
“Ooh-rah,” she said, whistling for Radar and marching back toward her SUV.
EIGHT
Brent bought some dog supplies on their way back to the Open Vistas after a discussion with Ridley, who met them on Ocean Street before they left the beach. Though Donna was sure Ridley wanted to find fault with Brent, there was no way Jeff’s arrival on the beach could be blamed on Brent.
Brent called a buddy to drive his motorcycle back to the boat, but there was no answer. He was ready to dial another number when Donna took the keys and handed him hers. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll take your motorcycle and you can take the SUV until you can arrange for something else to cart Radar around.”
He stared. “Uh, well, I don’t know.”
“I’ve driven everything from motorboats to tractors and plenty of motorcycles. Marco owns three of them.”
“Still, I...”
“Are you afraid I’ll ding up your bike?” His bewildered expression nearly sent her into gales of laughter. “I promise, I’ll be careful. I’ve been through a motorcycle crash, and I don’t intend to repeat the performance.”
Donna said goodbye and straddled the bike, pulling on the helmet.
He stopped, Radar pulling at his new leash. “Can I have your number?”
“Is that your best pickup line? Shouldn’t you tell me that I’m gorgeous or something first?”
It was his turn to go pink cheeked. “I want to call later and check on you. Jeff may know where you live. He thinks one of us has what Pauline left for him.”
She gave him the number and programmed his into her phone. Exchanging phone numbers with Brent? We’re working together. That’s what people do.
Working as detectives? Partners? Was she crazy? No doubt her sisters would confirm that diagnosis. Forcing herself not to watch Brent and Radar return to the slip where their boat was docked, she started the engine. Somehow the admiring look on his face pleased her. It was only a few months ago that she’d tried riding with Marco again, and she held on to her newfound sense of courage. She drove to the hospital and made her way to Sarah’s room, where she found her mother and two sisters. They all embraced her.
“They’re weaning her off the meds tomorrow,” Angela said.
“She’ll be home for Christmas,” her mother said with her characteristic optimism, stroking Sarah’s cheek. “That’s good because who else will eat the turkey wings? Only you, sweetie. It’s time for you to wake up.”
And tell us what happened? Would Sarah realize that their father had died in the accident? The thought of telling her made Donna’s stomach plummet. She watched her mother caress Sarah’s hand and marveled that she found the strength to both grieve and comfort.
As if she could read Donna’s thoughts, her mother looked at her. “Your sisters tell me you’ve been doing some investigating.”
Donna’s cheeks heated up. All eyes were on her. She flicked a glance at Angela, wondering if her latest news would best be shared when their mother wasn’t present.
JeanBeth Gallagher pressed her lips together in that way that meant resistance was futile. The Gallagher women inherited their determination from both sides. Bruce might have been a Marine Corps Medal of Honor recipient, but no one was more heroic than the woman he’d left at home to raise the family and keep the faith alive, praying for her soldier’s safe return. JeanBeth had done everything from nursing her girls through pneumonia to fixing flat tires and washing machines to scaring away a would-be burglar with a baseball bat. JeanBeth was marine-corps tough, even in grief.
Straightening her tailored sweater over her trim figure, she gestured for her daughter to tell the story. “Let’s hear it.”
Donna plunged into the details, telling everything from the attack at the office to the stranger with the gun on the beach. When she finished, all three women were staring at her in openmouthed astonishment.
“Tell her, Mom,” Candace sputtered. “Tell her to quit this crazy business before she gets hurt.”
Her mother regarded her through gray eyes that were both tired and resolute. “So you’re determined to be an investigator in this matter, Donna? With no training and no one to guide you?”
Donna raised her chin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And why do you think you will succeed in this endeavor?”
“I’m not sure I will, but I know I’ve got to try.”
“Why? Why do you feel that way?” her mother asked.
“Dad taught me to trust my gut and when I didn’t do that, I almost lost my life. My gut says to investigate and that’s what I’ve got to do.” Her voice shook only a little.
“You see?” Candace said. “It’s lunacy. She thinks she has something to prove because of Nate. Tell her to stop, Mom.”
Their mother tucked strands of her short bob behind her ears. “It’s not her I need to tell,” she said calmly, looking at Angela and Candace. “It’s you two.”
“Tell us what?” Angela said.
“Your father raised you to stick together, no matter what the conflict. If Donna is going to investigate this, you two need to help her.”
Candace gaped. “But, Mom, we’re not private eyes.”
“There are no other people that care about finding justice for your father more than you girls.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Don’t you think I know that? If Donna is right, then someone is targeting our family. First Bruce and Sarah...” Her voice cracked. She paused, then exhaled. “And now Donna. I know you girls are smart and savvy. Your father taught you to take care of yourselves and you’ve got good enough sense not to do dumb things. Investigation is research, not running around stirring up trouble. You three can research better than anyone and feed whatever you find to the police to help them.”
“But, Mom...” Candace said. “What about this guy with the gun?”
“As I said, research only and none of you put yourselves in any more danger. Marco will be back soon to help and this man...” She looked at Donna. “What’s his name?”
“Brent Mitchell,” Donna said.
“He’s going to be there with you, right?”
Donna swallowed a swirl of feelings. “I think so.”
“But he was on Dad’s suspect list,” Candace said. “He could be mixed up in his sister’s disappearance.”
Her mother held up a hand. “He’s a rescue swimmer. He runs into situations—”
“When everyone else is running out,” Candace finished with a huge sigh. “I know it seems that way, but, Donna, Brent could be lying about looking for his sister in the first place to throw suspicion off himself. Do you trust him?”
The question took her breath away. Donna had trusted the completely wrong guy before. It was time for her to make the call and she was grateful that God had given her a family that would allow her to redeem herself. God really was a God of second chances.
“Yes, I do trust him,” she said.
Angela nodded gravely. “Okay, then. That’s decided. I’ll call a few of Dad’s old contacts and see if they can help us figure out who this Jeff Kinsey is.”
Donna embraced her sister with a rush of excitement. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Angela patted her. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a p
rivate eye. Do I need to get a trench coat?”
“You might if this rain continues,” Candace said with a laugh. “I’m going to pick up Tracy and I’ll meet you back at the house later.” She clutched Donna’s elbow. “All right, sis. We’re with you on this, but I just can’t lose anyone else, so be careful, please.”
She embraced her sister through her own film of tears. “We’re not going to lose,” she said. “Not this time.”
* * *
Brent knew he was stepping over the line. His fingers hesitated on the cell phone again. Next to him in the passenger seat of Donna’s car, Radar lay like a lump. Everything drooped, from his tail to his ears, and except for the occasional whine, he was silent.
Brent dialed. Donna answered on the second ring.
“Brent? What happened?”
“Uh, nothing, exactly.”
“You’re not calling me at ten thirty because nothing happened.”
“It’s Radar.”
“What?”
“Something’s wrong with him.”
“I’ll come. Be at your boat in thirty minutes.”
He took a breath. “Actually, I’m in front of your house.”
There was a pause. And then a chuckle that lifted his spirit and seemed to set the world right for a moment. “Well, come in, then.”
He led Radar to the porch past a dead poinsettia, limp and desiccated.
In a moment, she’d opened the door, dressed in workout gear of a soft blue. The dog clumped onto the porch with only a halfhearted tail wag, knocking over the poinsettia on his way inside.
Brent righted it. “Sorry.”
“Oh, never mind about that. I bought it before...” She waved a hand. “Since my dad died, I haven’t been exactly taking care of things at home.”
She dropped to her knees and began running her hands over Radar’s body, speaking soothingly to him all the while.
She gently palpated his stomach. “Has he eaten anything?”
“No. Not even his kibble.”
Radar whined and licked his lips.
“Are you sure?” Her glance was accusatory.
“Yes, and he’s been with me every moment,” Brent said with a touch of pique.