Dangerous Tidings

by Dana Mentink

  “Yeah, okay. I appreciate the invitation. I’ll be there.”

  “Great. Candace will be thrilled.”

  And, Donna realized, so would she. Just to have him there as a work partner, if that was all that they were meant to be. Just to be near him. She moved the bag to the backseat. “Hop in. We’ll go harass Ridley together.”

  He grinned. “Excellent. Do you want me to drive?”

  “You have a problem not being behind the wheel, don’t you?”

  “Only a small problem.”

  “Get in and buckle up. It’s time you got over that hang-up.”

  THIRTEEN

  She drove to the Coronado Police Department on Orange Avenue. Officer Ridley gestured wearily to two chairs across from his cluttered desk. “I figured it wouldn’t be long before you both showed up. Nice of you to come together.” His eyes narrowed and Donna thought there was a sly implication in the tone. Behind him on the desk was a framed picture of a woman with tousled hair, grinning from the deck of a boat. She saw Brent flinch when he noticed it.

  Carrie.

  Her face was alight with fun, a light speckling of freckles dancing across her nose. Both men had loved her, but she’d chosen to marry Brent. Bad blood simmered between the two men below their straight-faced exteriors.

  “Any prints on my sister’s car?”

  “So far just Pauline’s and Jeff Kinsey’s, but we’re still working on that.”

  “What did you find out from Darius?”

  Ridley tapped a pen on the desk. “Not much from him, but I’ve been digging. He’s got a clean record except for a two-month jail stint three years ago for assault. It seems Darius likes to gamble and he’s racked up some serious debt. Darius says he borrowed money from a bad dude to pay off his debt. He refused to name the guy but we’re thinking it’s a longtime thug by the name of Albert Indigo. Indigo wants his money back, so I surmise he sent his goon over to collect. Guy’s name is Mooch.”

  “It suits him.”

  “Darius said he had the money ready to deliver to Mooch, but it was stolen by none other than Jeff Kinsey.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Pauline talked to Darius and got Jeff a job with his boat company when he got fired at Open Vistas.”

  “So Darius did know my sister better than he let on,” Brent said.

  “He says they met a few times to go over trip details before she took her charges on his boat. She even went on one of his cruises to check it out before she booked, so he saw her a few times, anyway. Won’t cop to any more than that.”

  “What about Fran’s story that his mother died on that beach?” Donna asked.

  “That one was easy. Darius won’t speak about his mother, but records show his mom and dad divorced when he was ten. She remarried and is living in Tijuana. Dad kept custody of the three boys. He was a dealer at a casino until he died ten years ago.”

  “I wonder why Fran lied about it,” Donna murmured.

  “Could be that’s what Darius told her. We did some checking on her, too. Family in Texas, one sister, married with three kids. Dad owns a tiling business. Fran’s a part-time paralegal. Makes a decent living. Got her own place in Imperial Beach, but she stays with Darius in this apartment above his shop.” Ridley shook his head. “Girl has some smarts and she stays with a guy like him.” Again Ridley’s eyes flicked to Brent and then away. “I’m guessing Darius will come up with the thousand-dollar fine and be out by tomorrow.”

  “That’s insane,” Brent nearly shouted. “You know he’s the guy.”

  “What I know and what I can prove are two different things,” Ridley said, his tone flat and hard.

  The skin on Donna’s neck prickled as she considered Darius would be a free man in a matter of hours.

  “What about the attack at Pacific Investigations?” Brent demanded. “He’s the guy. Donna is sure of it.”

  Ridley shrugged. “No prints in the office. It was dark. Guy was wearing a ski mask. You and Marco didn’t think to get a plate number from the truck out front.”

  “So a positive ID doesn’t make a difference?” Brent snapped.

  “If we had one, which we don’t, except for the fact that he’s got an alibi.”

  “What alibi?”

  “Fran. She said they were spending a quiet evening at home.” Ridley heaved out a sigh. “Now, isn’t that convenient?”

  * * *

  Brent stewed on the way to the hospital. There was no question that they needed to speak to Fran. Was she a liar or another victim? Darius was the one responsible for his sister’s disappearance; he grew more certain with every passing minute. He was relieved that Donna was too distracted to insist on driving, so he pushed the speed limit and got them to Sharp Coronado Hospital quickly.

  “I think you should let me talk to Fran,” Donna said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are so intense right now you’re scary, and you’ll make her clam up.”

  He realized she was right. He was practically sprinting along the hallway after they checked in, and his expression was furrowed into a scowl. He forced himself to relax, slow his pace. “I keep thinking about those roses in the water. Pink roses. My sister’s favorite. I’ve sent her pink roses every year on her birthday since she turned eighteen.”

  Donna’s eyes widened. “It could be a coincidence.”

  He heard in her tone that she didn’t believe it any more than he did. He was practically jogging by the time they reached Fran’s room. Donna grabbed his wrist. “Please don’t go barreling in there like a Stormtrooper. Women don’t like to be accosted by angry men.”

  “Right.” He took a breath and gestured for her to go in first. “After you.”

  She knocked on the door and stepped in.

  Fran was sitting up, sipping from a cup of water. Her eyes went round with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “We came to see if you’re okay.” Donna offered a smile. “The nurse said it would be all right to visit for a few minutes. My sister is here, too, recovering from her accident.”

  “I hope she’s getting better.” There was a long scratch on Fran’s left cheek.

  “She’s made improvements. The doctors are optimistic, but even if they weren’t, we are.”

  Fran nodded. “I have a sister. She’s in Texas. I miss her like crazy.” She sniffed and Donna handed her a tissue. “She always stood by me no matter what idiot thing I did.”

  “How are you feeling, Fran?”

  “I have a slight concussion, so they’re keeping me for a few more hours, but I’m totally fine. Um, thank you,” she said. “For jumping in after me. I guess you saved my life.” She giggled. “Maybe you should join up with that guy and be a rescue swimmer.”

  Brent went for a smile. “She could do it. No question.”

  Donna patted her arm. “I didn’t pull you out by myself. Brent and Radar helped.”

  She plucked at the blanket tucked around her knees. “Anyway, it’s all okay. I’m glad no one was hurt.”

  Brent could keep still no longer. “It’s not all okay. Why did you say Darius was with you the night Donna was attacked?”

  Her mouth fell open. “Because he was. I told the police the truth.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Brent said.

  She started. “Darius was with me. We were watching old videos. He never went anywhere.”

  Donna edged in front of Brent. “What are you afraid will happen if you tell the truth?”

  She bit her lip. Her hand trembled and water splashed on her blanket. “Nothing. I’m not lying.”

  “Are you afraid he’ll hurt you?” Brent said.

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  “The police can protect you,” he said.

&nb
sp; “From Darius?” She let out a dry laugh. “I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. I don’t need protecting.”

  “You can love someone who isn’t good for you,” Donna said.

  Brent heard the throb of pain and shame in her words. Very gently, he pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. Old mistakes, he wanted to say. Don’t let any jerk from the past make you doubt yourself.

  “Darius is going to be my husband, see?” Fran said. She thrust her ring finger up so they could see the slender gold band. “I’m never going to say anything bad about him.”

  “It’s not too late,” Brent said. “You haven’t married him yet. He’s a liar and he knows something about my sister’s disappearance and probably Bruce Gallagher’s death, too.”

  “Get out,” she said.

  “Do you know what I think?” Brent pressed. “I think he hurt my sister, maybe killed her. He throws pink roses into the water because they were my sister’s favorite and he was in love with her.”

  “Stop it.” Fran’s eyes flashed.

  He knew he should stop, but he could not. “You know what happened, don’t you? Did he hurt her?”

  “Brent,” Donna warned.

  “Where’s my sister, Fran? Where’s Pauline?”

  “I don’t know anything about this,” she cried.

  “Whatever Darius did to her,” Brent said, “he’s going to do to you, too, someday. You’ve got to tell me the truth before it’s too late.”

  “Get out,” she shrieked, face mottled, eyes burning.

  A doctor came through the doorway. “You’ll have to leave now,” he said in no uncertain terms.

  Furious at himself and Fran, Brent stalked out the door and down the corridor.

  Donna caught up with him.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” he snapped. “I blew it. I should have listened to you.”

  “Well, yes, you should have, but I understand how you feel.” He looked into her clear blue eyes. It wasn’t just about him. He’d blown her chance to find out more about what Fran knew about her father, too. He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so angry that it’s making me lose control.”

  And then her arms were around him. He found himself embracing her, burying his face in her waves of silken hair, taking comfort from her warm breath against his neck, the sweet caress of her fingers on his shoulders.

  “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay. The situation was as wrong as it could be, yet in the bleach-scented shadows of that hospital corridor, something felt completely right, the way it had long ago when he’d been head-over-heels in love with Carrie.

  Even as he embraced her, the thought sent a trail of panic through him. Protect her, rescue her, don’t love her, his brain screamed, even while his heart sought hers. He found his lips grazing along her neck, trailing her jawline. She had only to tilt her head an inch and he would capture her mouth with his.

  Back off, his mind insisted.

  Donna, how do you do this to me? Why do I let you?

  Her body fit perfectly into his embrace, as if they were two parts of one whole. He was dizzied, out of control. He felt a shiver run through her.

  Carrie’s last scream reared up in his memory. With shaking hands, he pulled her to arm’s length.

  Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed, and his chest tightened.

  “I...” She gave a little shake. “I should go check in on Sarah while I’m here. Would you like a ride back to your boat after?”

  He forced his mouth to answer. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  She hesitated. “Um, actually, why don’t you come with me?”

  He searched her face.

  “I think...it feels like the deeper we get into this, the more our families are somehow connected. I wondered if maybe you would like to meet Sarah.”

  Did he? No, he told himself. He was already dangerously close to Donna, strangely tied to her in ways he had not sought and did not want to acknowledge. Seeing her sister vulnerable, the family stricken with worry, was a far cry from building gingerbread houses and engaging in holiday banter. Banter, he was ready for; bonding, not so much. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  Her expression wavered. “Oh, of course. No problem. I’ll meet you at the car, then.”

  She headed for the elevator.

  His feet were cemented to the floor. He wanted to keep his distance, to step back from the edge where the messy tangle of emotions lay—the deeper levels of a relationship, where he had managed not to go since Carrie’s death. Yet his instincts tugged him toward her.

  As the elevator doors dinged open and Donna entered, Brent sprinted and caught up, snaking through just before the doors slid closed. She looked at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the floor buttons. “Changed my mind,” he mumbled.

  “Why?” she said.

  He thought about Pauline, out there somewhere, scared, maybe dead if he was honest with himself. Carrie gone too soon. Why was he there, standing in the elevator with Donna Gallagher, when there were so many reasons to detach himself from her and the peace she stubbornly clung to?

  A thought flashed in his brain. Was it possible that he was there, standing in that rising elevator, because he was meant to be?

  To rescue her? To help? Why am I here?

  Her earlier words came back to him. Because God wants us to be. He loves us. He loved Carrie, too, but He had other plans for her.

  Pain for Carrie twined together with longing for Donna. He cleared his throat. “To be honest, I’m not sure,” he said. “I just feel like I’m supposed to be here. With you. Right now.” He maintained laser-beam focus on the buttons as they announced their arrival on the third floor.

  He felt her looking at him.

  “I’m glad,” she said simply.

  And he found he was, too.

  FOURTEEN

  Sarah was asleep when they arrived. Angela greeted Brent warmly and JeanBeth clasped his hand between hers. “I know you must be so concerned about your sister’s whereabouts,” she said. “Please know that whatever we can do to help you find her, we will.”

  Brent’s lips twitched. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”

  “Has there been any progress?”

  Sarah stirred on the bed and opened her eyes.

  “Hey, Baby Gal,” her mother said, using their father’s longtime nickname for her.

  Donna blinked tears away. “How are you feeling, sis?”

  “I think some dynamite went off in my head,” Sarah groaned.

  “Been there a time or two,” Brent said.

  Donna introduced Brent to Sarah.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Sarah said.

  “Thank you. I’m certain I’ll find her.”

  Donna knew he had to be wondering if his sister would be found alive.

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed and she struggled to sit up higher on the pillow. “You believe my father was killed because he was asking questions about Pauline’s disappearance?”

  Brent shot Donna a questioning look.

  “Tell me,” Sarah said. “My father died not two feet from me in that car.” Her voice faded to a ragged whisper. “I have a right to know.”

  Donna swallowed against the ache in her throat and nodded to Brent.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do believe your father was killed by whoever messed with my sister. We confirmed your father was at Pauline’s workplace, Open Vistas, asking about her.”

  “That’s what you think, too, Donna?” Sarah asked.

  Donna nodded.

  Sarah’s face darkened. “I had a lot of time to think last night, since I am a prisoner here. I remembered something important, so I called Angela. The car that hi
t us was a green pickup.”

  “Green?” Brent blurted.

  Donna understood his outburst. Darius drove a black truck and Fran’s vehicle was a white Corolla, as far as they knew. “Are you sure, Sarah? Positive?”

  Sarah nodded, wincing as the gesture caused her pain. “Yes, my memory has kicked in as the brain swelling has gone down. It had personalized plates, SURFER1. I noticed because he was following kind of close and Dad commented.”

  “Did you see the driver’s face?” Brent asked.

  She shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t pay that close attention. Dad might have, but...” She gulped, blinking against the memories from the crash.

  “I gave the information to Ridley last night,” Angela said. “He’s going to be here any minute to tell us what he found out.”

  “Why didn’t you text me last night?” Donna demanded of Angela.

  “I wanted to check it out first to see if the information would get us anywhere before I spread it around,” Angela said.

  “You should have called me right away.”

  Angela’s lip curled. “I’m new at this investigator thing, Donna,” she snapped. “Have a little patience, why don’t you?”

  “I’m trying, but you aren’t helping by keeping me in the dark.”

  Angela stiffened. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Time is critical. I could have worked on that lead last night.”

  “As I said,” Angela continued, her voice tight, “I called the police and this investigation is not all about you, by the way. We’re all involved here.”

  “I know it.”

  “We’ve all lost a father and everyone in this room wants the case closed for Dad and for Pauline.”

  Donna was about to fire off a retort until she noticed the fatigue lines around Angela’s mouth, the shadows under her eyes. She normally wore her brown hair pulled back in a chic knot, but today it was loose and untidy, as if she’d attempted a quick shower in between shifts at the hospital and office. Trying to be the emotional and spiritual support for three high-strung women in the midst of their worst crisis ever was not an easy task. Angela knew about gritting it out through pain.