Dangerous Tidings

by Dana Mentink

  “I see. Thank you, sir.”

  The man saluted and continued on his way.

  Feeling even more the fool, he retrieved the dead plant and edged the new one with his foot farther into the sun. It toppled over. Muttering, he was stooping to fix the problem when he heard Donna’s laughter.

  He straightened so fast he managed to drop the dead plant.

  “Are you trying to teach my poinsettia a lesson?” she said, twirling her house keys in her hand. “I think that specimen has already given up.”

  His stomach fluttered. Caught, when he’d been so close to making a clean getaway. “I...uh...”

  She peeked around him and got a glimpse of the lush blooming plant on the porch.

  Her mouth opened in surprise. “You didn’t bring that for me, did you?”

  Great. She really did think he was too forward now. Why hadn’t he just left the thing and run? “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?”

  Her blue eyes glimmered. He swallowed. “I know things are hard for you and your family. My mother always said it wasn’t Christmas until you had a poinsettia on your porch.” He heaved out a breath. “I wanted you to have some Christmas.”

  She clenched her arms around her middle and he knew he’d blown it. She would tell him nicely to butt out of her personal life. He’d overstepped. Then he noticed she was trembling and two patches of high color had appeared on her cheeks. Tears streamed unchecked and she began to sob.

  Way to go, Brent. The instinct to rescue reared up again and he took the keys from her hand, unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

  “What can I do?” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t answer, her hands clutched to her mouth. He could not think of anything else to say, so he pulled her to his chest and held her close.

  “Oh, Donna. I didn’t mean to make things worse,” he murmured into her hair.

  Her breath came in shuddery gasps and she melted into him, her forehead pressed to his chest, tears wetting his T-shirt. The embrace assaulted him with memories of all he had lost, of a woman who used to trust him to comfort her. He had not realized what a precious honor that was until he’d lost Carrie. Now, somehow, he’d been given the chance to comfort another amazing woman. It was dizzying. And terrifying. He wanted to both run and hold her close at the same time.

  Comforting, not anything more, he told himself. It was just part of working as a team. In rescue swimming you were only as good as your pilot and flight mechanic. He was strengthening the team, that was all.

  When her sobs subsided, he led her to the sofa. The house was cool, so he draped a blanket around her shoulders. While she huddled there, he made his way to the kitchen and heated water for tea. There were no proven benefits to having tea in a crisis, but he’d noticed women seemed to find comfort in the ritual. He searched the cupboards until he found some and dunked a bag in water for what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time before he brought it to her.

  She took it. “I’m sorry. I’m not much of a crier, usually.”

  “No problem. I’m, uh, very sorry. I thought the plant thing was a good idea at the time.”

  “It was,” she said, lips trembling. “It was so incredibly sweet, Brent. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. And you’re right. Christmas is coming and my father was the biggest fan of Christmas of anyone I know. He would be horrified if we overlooked the blessings because of the grief.”

  His chest tightened. “I wish I had met you years ago.”

  She shook her head. “I was busy messing up my life.”

  “Isn’t that called growing up?”

  A smile appeared on her face, like the sun overcoming the clouds.

  And then he was moving toward her, his mouth seeking her lips, heedless of anything but the desire to burn away the lingering sadness. His lips brushed hers for a split second, the shock of electricity pulsing through him, until she jumped away.

  His senses jangled for clarity that his brain could not provide. He had no idea why he’d tried to kiss her and why his body cried out at his failure. He only knew he could not undo what he’d just done.

  “I...apologize.”

  “Oh. It’s okay.” But there was now a wall between them. He could see it in her eyes. Probably a good thing, since he was clearly behaving like a lunatic.

  “How’s Radar?” he said, getting up and walking to the window.

  “Take a look.” She cleared her throat.

  They watched him scampering around the backyard chasing a squirrel.

  “I’m pretty sure the squirrels are laughing at him,” Brent said.

  She smiled again, but the tension still shone on her face. He felt like kicking himself.

  His phone buzzed. He answered. A wave of icy cold shuddered through him.

  “What is it?” Donna asked.

  It was as though her voice came from far away. He could not answer at first. She squeezed his arm.

  “Brent, please tell me.”

  He somehow found himself answering. “They found Pauline’s car.” He swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry. “The trunk is locked. They’re going to open it now.”

  ELEVEN

  They arrived at the empty parking lot within moments. The police were assembled in the far corner of the lot behind a sporting-goods store that was closed for renovations. Piles of wood and buckets of nails littered the lot. No wonder no one had noticed an out-of-place vehicle there. Pauline’s car stood doors gaping open while police photographed it from every angle. Ridley watched as an officer went at the trunk with a crowbar.

  “Don’t have to be here, Mitchell,” he said, with a softer tone than Donna had ever heard him use before. “I would let you know whatever we find out here.”

  Brent didn’t answer, staring with burning eyes at the trunk.

  “Old car. Doesn’t have a trunk release, so we’ll have to force it. Store owner reported the car when he came back to check on the renovation progress. Company’s been shut down for a few weeks since they’re doing improvements.”

  Donna touched Brent’s forearm and found him tense as steel. She had no idea what to say. Here they were, watching a possible nightmare unfold right before their eyes.

  What if they found her? Nausea licked at her. All this time, they’d been rushing here and there, following leads that got them nowhere, while Pauline might have been dead the whole time?

  No. She clamped her chattering teeth tight and prayed to God that the car would not contain the sad remains of Brent’s sister. She kept on praying as the crowbar grated against the metal with a noise that made her skin crawl.

  Ridley tried again. “This might not...go well.” He eyed Brent. “No shame in stepping back. Might not be a good memory to keep.”

  “I’m staying here,” Brent said quietly. “Right here.”

  Ridley nodded at his officer to continue.

  The cop shoved the prybar in again and hauled down on it.

  With a pop, the lock gave way. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

  Brent stiffened but did not move.

  Ridley strode up and peered inside. He turned to Brent. “Take a look.”

  With what must have taken every ounce of courage he possessed, Brent moved forward. Donna stayed back. It was a moment for privacy that stretched unbelievably long. Brent’s shoulders slumped. With agonizing slowness, he turned around.

  “Empty,” he rasped.

  She felt her own knees shake as she moved to him. He bent over and sucked in some deep breaths.

  “Thank You, God,” she heard him murmur.

  Thank You, God, she echoed fervently. He straightened and wrapped her in an embrace, his breath warm on her neck. Her mouth tingled as she thought of their earlier kiss. She hugged him tight until he se
t her back.

  “I’ve got to find my sister,” he muttered. “Now.”

  Donna’s phone buzzed and she answered. “I’ll check it out,” she said before she disconnected.

  “News?”

  “It’s Silver Cove—that’s the name of the beach where Dad and Sarah were heading. Angela found the name on Dad’s phone. It’s up the coast a ways. It’s small, and you have to access it by trekking over some rock formations, from what my sister can tell online. I can’t imagine why he’d be going there.”

  “So we should look.”

  She hesitated. “I can take Radar. We’ll be okay by ourselves.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t shut me out.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier and I apologize. What’s happened recently, and here just now...” He sighed. “It’s turned me upside down. I apologize that I made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “You’ve got good reason to be off balance, but I just want to find out the truth and support my family. That’s all.” No relationships. Period.

  “Understood, and I need to find my sister, now more than ever.”

  “Okay. We’ll go together.”

  Donna continued to mentally reprimand herself as they went to the car. Brent should not have tried to kiss her back at her house, but she definitely should not have desired him to. Prickles erupted along her spine at the memory of how close he’d been, how much she’d wanted to share a kiss with him. Solving a case and tending to her family: those had to remain her priorities. She did not trust herself to allow an incredibly handsome man into the picture for anything other than investigation purposes.

  “I’ll drive,” Donna said.

  He shifted. “It’s not a problem—I’m fine.”

  “I know, but I want to drive.” It restored her sense of balance to slide behind the wheel.

  Brent huffed. He kept his eyes on the road as they headed north toward the tiny beach. A thoroughly recovered Radar stuck his muzzle out the open window, breathing in the sea-scented air.

  She wondered if she should try to discuss what had just happened, the horrible moments waiting to look into that darkened trunk. What he must have been feeling, she could only imagine. Brent stared steadfastly out the window, resolutely silent, so she followed his lead and stayed quiet.

  They had to consult the directions as they neared the exit that led down to the beach. “A half mile more,” Brent said.

  They exited the freeway and took a series of turns that brought them farther away from the residential area. Fewer and fewer cars sped along the one-lane road, which became even narrower. Donna parked and they headed on foot along a rocky trail. It took some effort to climb over the low cliff that led down to the small crescent of beach hemmed in by the rocky wall. Radar scampered ahead.

  “It’s almost like he’s been here before,” Donna mused.

  “Yeah. I was thinking that, too.”

  The sand was hard packed under their feet, and the wind made the air brisk. Donna zipped her jacket. “So why here?” she mused. “Why would Dad have wanted to come here?”

  “Pauline must have mentioned to him that she liked to come here. Look.” Brent pointed to a small motorboat rounding the spit of rock that formed the cove. He squinted. “I saw that boat tied up at Darius’s place.”

  He took her arm and they stepped back into the shelter of the rock wall.

  The boat came closer and Donna gasped to discover that it was indeed Darius Fields piloting the craft. He let the engine idle, bobbing on the whitecaps.

  “What is he doing?” She peered closer, taking a pair of binoculars from her pack. “Brent, he’s got something in his hands.”

  “What?”

  She blinked in disbelief and looked again. “Roses. He’s scattering roses in the water.”

  They stared at each other. Darius stood in the boat, swaying.

  “He’s drifting. The boat’s going to knock against the rocks if he doesn’t take some action.”

  The vessel floated awkwardly in the grip of the waves.

  Brent started out of concealment. “He’s not in control.”

  A figure approached down the cliff trail, a small woman whom Donna finally identified as Fran. She stopped when she saw Brent and Donna, a cry escaping her lips a moment later as she caught sight of the boat. “I knew it.” She looked at them. “I... Nobody’s ever at this beach. Why are you two here?”

  Brent ignored the question. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “He’s been drinking,” she said. “I was working on the books. He came in and grabbed a jacket, and I could smell the beer on his breath.” She blinked hard. “I tried to catch him before he took the boat, but I wasn’t fast enough.” She chewed her lip. “I saw someone else, another boat I didn’t recognize, take off after him.”

  “Was it the guy who roughed him up in the shop earlier?”

  Fran shrugged.

  “How did you know he would come here?” Brent asked.

  Fran flushed. “It’s a familiar place to him. His mother drowned near here and he comes all the time and drops flowers into the water.”

  Donna didn’t know if she believed the story or not. Darius did not seem to her to be the sentimental type. Then again, people, like dogs, could be something altogether different than they appeared, which probably explained why during her years as a vet she’d been bitten by only tiny little cute-as-a-button furballs. The big, brutish dogs were often teddy-bear sweet.

  Brent appeared to be only half listening, his attention riveted on the wandering boat. “Can you call him?”

  Fran dialed her phone. “No signal. I’ll climb up on the rocks.”

  Brent moved toward the surf. “Might not matter. In a minute, he’s going in. There’s an undertow here. How strong a swimmer is he?”

  But Fran had already climbed up the rock wall. When she came to a flat place that jutted out over the ocean, she stopped to take out her phone.

  Brent was now close enough that the water lapped his feet. He took off his jacket and shoes.

  “You’re not going to swim out there,” Donna said.

  “Only if I have to. We’ll wait and see if Fran can get him on the phone. Maybe we can talk him back in if he’s sober enough.”

  The waves crashed against the sand. Donna was a strong swimmer, having grown up in the ocean since her father and mother introduced her to the surf when she was a tot. Still, she did not like to think about fighting through the waves to get to a drunken man who did not seem like the cooperative type.

  Come on, Darius. Answer your phone.

  An orange vessel rounded the point, flying through the salt spray. “Is that the coast guard?”

  “No. It’s a RIB,” Brent said. “A rigid inflatable boat,” he added to answer her next question. “And it’s heading right for Darius.”

  “To help?”

  He didn’t respond. “Binoculars?”

  She handed them over.

  Brent peered for a moment. “It’s the guy who was going after Darius at the whale-watching place.”

  Donna could hardly process what was happening. As if in slow motion, the orange inflatable rammed into the motorboat. Darius tumbled headfirst into the water.

  Brent crashed into the surf. Donna was amazed at his speed. In a few steps he was waist deep in water, swimming powerfully through the whitecaps. Radar swam after him, barking, until Donna called him back.

  “Darius,” Fran shouted from above. Her voice was twisted in fear.

  There was a sound of rock giving way and Fran plummeted feetfirst into the ocean. In horror, Donna saw her resurface for a moment, dazed, until the waves began to tug her away from shore.

  Donna did not bother to shout for
Brent. He would not hear her, nor could he leave his first victim to help a second.

  She plucked off her shoes and shed her jacket. It was Donna’s turn to race into the surf.

  * * *

  Brent stopped to get his bearings. With no flight mechanic to help coordinate the rescue from above, he was on his own. Ahead and to the left, Darius floundered, his arms slapping ineffectually at the water.

  Brent made straight for him. “I’m going to help you. Calm down and tread water. I’ll tow you to shore.”

  Darius’s eyes were blurry and unfocused. “Get away.”

  In his peripheral vision, he saw the orange raft approaching again. The pilot grinned. There was no more time for dithering.

  Brent grabbed Darius and attempted to put him back in the motorboat, but Darius grabbed an oar that had fallen overboard and swung it at Brent. He ducked and delivered an open-palmed smack to Darius’s forehead. Enough to stun him. Momentarily, he loosened his hold and Brent ripped the oar from his fist.

  The raft was upon them now.

  “Boss told you to pay up, Darius,” the pilot said. “Do it, or you’re dead,” he shouted over the waves.

  Darius yelled something unintelligible. The pilot pointed the craft at them and bulldozed forward, a wicked smile on his lips.

  Fury nearly choked Brent. He swung the oar as the boat drew near, cracking it against the pilot’s kneecap. The pilot screamed and went down. In a second he was up, throwing himself against the starboard side and grabbing for Brent. Brent evaded the grasping fists. He wanted to lash out again with the oar, take the guy down a second time, but Darius was going under, the cold and alcohol working against him.

  Brent struck away from the RIB and lifted Darius’s face out of the water. He came up in a panic, clawing at Brent.

  “Stop it.” Brent manhandled him into a rear head hold and making for the beach. The RIB cut them off, circling to get between him and the shore. Tenacious. Whatever Darius had done, he’d angered the wrong people.

  The boat idled there as the man considered his next move. They were running out of time. Brent could swim easily for the shore, but Darius could not.

  “Are you coming back for more?” Brent shouted. “Fine by me. Coast guard will be here in two minutes and you can take it up with them,” he bluffed.