by Dana Mentink
“So why is Lila afraid to leave here?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps Peter is right and Tank Guzman really is stalking her.”
“I think you know the real reason.”
“And I think,” he said, leaning forward, his breath sour, “that you should go home, back to Coronado, back to your sisters, your widowed mother and your niece and finish your leave at home in your little apartment.”
She jerked in surprise.
He smiled. “So you think you’re the only one who can pry into people’s lives? You and your family and the doctor can ask questions about me and my clinic? My dead wife? My daughter?” His voice went hard and flat, brimming with suppressed rage. “I know about you, too. I know you are damaged goods, Chaplain. I know you’re here trying to escape your guilt because Tank’s brother died when it should have been you.”
The accusation struck at her.
He shook his head, a pitying look on his face. “You know what? You can’t escape that guilt. He’s dead. You’re not. No amount of scurrying around pretending to be a detective is going to change that. You know it’s true. That’s why you can’t be a chaplain anymore, isn’t it? How can you tell everyone about the forgiveness of God when you know deep down you can’t forgive yourself?” He came close enough that she could see the broken capillaries on his cheeks. She readied a foot to kick out at him.
“I may be dealing with what happened in Afghanistan, but I can still tell a lie when I hear one, and you are a first-class liar,” she muttered.
His mouth tightened as he watched her.
“I’m going to help Tank,” she forced out through lips stiff with fear. “And we’re going to bring you down.”
He stopped, eyes wide for a minute, and then he laughed. “Bring me down? Me? Harry Gruber, the philanthropist who provides free medical care? The honest Joe who runs a trucking company and pays fair wages and benefits to his employees? The good brother who’s bent over backward to support his brother and Lila Brown so she can raise her kid? That guy?”
“Yes,” she said. “That guy.”
He smiled. “All right. If you want to throw away your life, go ahead, but you’re not going to damage mine.”
The anger in his gaze told her she was making progress. Clenching her hands into fists to still the shaking, she said, “We’re getting closer to the truth and it’s got you rattled—doesn’t it? That’s why you’re here on this elevator, trying to scare me. Tank got away, and we’re closing in, ready to crack your perfect facade.”
He raised his hand suddenly as if he would strike her.
She threw up an arm to block the blow, but it didn’t come.
Harry stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you’ve been attacked recently. Does it hurt? The knife wound on your back?”
Her scalp prickled as her memory took her back to that moment, lying helpless beneath the knife. Harry’s knife, there was no doubt in her mind. She thought she could see the edge of a bruise on his forehead under his hair where she’d bashed him with her head.
“You should be more careful,” he said soothingly. “You might wind up like poor Ralph Pickford. I understand someone tried to strangle him.”
You did, she thought. But why?
He frowned in thought. “And Lila, so close to getting blown up, burned to death.”
“You can’t terrorize me,” she breathed.
“Oh, I don’t have to.” His gaze locked on her face. “You’re already terrified. I can see it in your eyes.”
Her lungs refused to work properly. It was agony to get a breath against the wild firing of her fear, the slamming of her heart against her ribs.
It should have been you...
Does it hurt? The knife wound on your back...
Terrified.
He pressed the elevator button, and it slowly headed down. “Go back to Coronado, Chaplain, while you still can.”
* * *
She ran out to the parking lot, sucking in deep breaths of air, jerking her head around to see any sign of Harry Gruber. She flinched as a car zoomed up and came to an abrupt halt. Then Dan’s arms were around her, and she lost all sense of control. She hardly felt him lift her into the passenger seat. He stood in the open door.
“You can get through this,” he said. “Squeeze my hands.”
She tried, but her body seemed to have no will of its own. It was as if her mind were imprisoned somewhere dark and terrifying.
“We’ll do it together.” He squeezed her fingers for a slow count of five and then relaxed.
After several moments of the gentle pressure to her hands, she was able to squeeze back. Her breaths became less shuddering, and she grew aware of her surroundings. The late afternoon sun poked through the clouds, outlining Dan’s strong shoulders and revealed his look of concern tinged with quiet confidence.
You can get through this.
She continued to breathe and squeeze until she could get the words out, a stumbling gush of details that made his face go from concerned to enraged.
“I am going to see that guy in prison if it’s the last thing I ever do on this planet,” he said through gritted teeth.
“We’ve got to get to the clinic,” she gasped. “Before Lila leaves. She may be the only person who can tell us what is truly going on with Gruber.”
He raced to the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and they took off. On the way she thought about Gruber and his connection to Lila. There were no threats made, Gruber had said, but Angela knew Lila was on the run for her life, as was Tank. Gruber was pulling strings she could not see, forcing them to comply through terror. The echo of that terror still rang through her own nerves.
Go back to Coronado, Chaplain, while you still can.
She wanted nothing more than to speed back to her lovely beach town, hide in her apartment and not come out for days, months even. But with Dan sitting beside her, shooting concerned looks at her every few moments, she knew she would not leave.
Partly for Lila.
Mostly for Tank.
But in some small way, she did not want to leave this man who somehow grounded her, reminded her that though she was unmoored from her career and her life, she was still invisibly tethered to God.
“Holy God,” she whispered. “Help me. Help us.”
TWENTY
Dan scanned the street. No sign of Lila, though he did not know if she would be on foot or in a borrowed car. The parking lot behind the clinic held a few vehicles, probably the last patients having their dental and eye exams on the top floor. There would be no activity in the clinic today.
He was driving around the lot for the second time when Angela’s phone buzzed. She answered, hands shaking only a little, he was pleased to note.
Frowning, Angela put the call on speakerphone.
Marco’s voice sounded fuzzy, filtered through a bad connection. “Found Betty Hernandez just before we left Tijuana. She’s living with her sister. She didn’t want to talk at first, but Donna buttered her up.”
“My natural charm,” Donna chimed in. “She’s had a hard go of it since her husband left her. She was nearly homeless when she visited the clinic to have her tooth extracted. Now she is taking classes to learn to be a hairdresser and she’s bought a secondhand car.”
“We were able to track Oliver Clark’s last known address, too, but his family couldn’t tell us much about any connection he might have had to the Grubers,” Marco said.
“That’s it?” Angela huffed. “That’s all? What is the connection between Ralph, Oliver and Betty?”
“Two of them, probably all three, were seen by Dr. Peter Gruber at the clinic.”
“Peter? But his brother’s the criminal—I’m sure of it.” Angela told them about finding Ralph and her confrontation in the
elevator.
“I told you to stay put,” Marco snapped.
“You can chew me out when you get back,” Angela said. “Focus on the now. What else do these three have in common?”
“Ralph was wearing new clothes. You said Betty was taking classes. She bought a used car.” Dan twirled the thoughts in his mind. “They all came into some money from somewhere.”
“Look,” Angela said, grabbing Dan’s arm.
Lila jogged up the small flight of steps to the parking lot. She must have come from the basement level, and he wondered how she’d acquired keys to the off-limits area. Promising to call back immediately, Angela disconnected the call and waved to Lila.
Dan pulled over. Angela squeezed in the back and Lila took the passenger seat.
“Drive,” she said, lips trembling. “Hurry. They can’t see me here.”
She ducked down, and he guided the convertible away several blocks before he pulled over and parked next to an empty, weed-filled lot.
“I’m leaving town as soon as I pick up my son,” Lila said, fingers twisting the handle of her bag. “I went to the clinic to get some insurance.”
“What insurance?”
“Pictures, but I couldn’t get in. They’ve changed the locks.”
“For where? What are you talking about?” Dan tried to keep the impatience from his voice without success. “What are you involved in, Lila?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “All I did was take blood samples. That’s all.”
“From your dental patients?” Angela asked.
She nodded. “Those that were clinic patients and needed a procedure done,” she looked down. “The ones that were desperate for money. I told them we needed a blood sample to check for infection after we fixed their teeth, and most of them said yes. I did the blood draw, and then I gave the samples to Peter. That’s all. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t force anybody to do anything.” Her eyes were wild.
Angela was staring at Lila. “And Peter did what with the samples?”
“Had them tested and typed. If Peter found a match and things worked out, the patients were offered money, a lot of money. It helped them. We were helping.”
“They were given money if they were a match,” Angela repeated. “A match for what?”
Lila sucked in a breath. “If their kidneys were a match for clients of Harry’s, clients who needed a transplant.”
Dan’s breath caught. “Organ harvesting. That’s what this is all about.”
Lila nodded miserably.
Dan met Angela’s eyes. “And the patients were paid handsomely for their kidneys, and probably told to leave town, I’m guessing.”
She nodded.
“So Peter and Harry Gruber are running an illegal organ-harvesting business?” Angela murmured. “They’re in it together?”
Lila twisted a lock of her hair until it cinched tight around her finger. “Peter does what Harry tells him to. He really thinks his brother is doing something noble, helping his clients get their organs quickly, unlike what happened to Harry’s wife.”
“And Tank,” Angela said. “He was offered money for his kidney, too, wasn’t he?”
“He was in trouble. He’d been jailed and he lost his job, lost the money he’d been saving to buy a house. I didn’t want to draw his blood in the first place, but Peter insisted. Tank agreed to the surgery, but then he changed his mind. He wanted to go to the police. He begged me to help.”
“And that’s why your car was blown up. To persuade you not to cooperate.”
Her mouth tightened. “Harry will kill anyone who gets in his way. I think he has a bug on my phone. I told Tank I was going to find Ralph Pickford and have him come with me to the police. Harry found out. He got there first. Poor Ralph.”
“Yes,” Angela said. “Harry has a lot of victims. You and Tank, Cora. What about your son? That’s why you’re afraid, isn’t it? It was Harry who sent the lock of hair in the bouquet of flowers.”
She grabbed the handle of her bag and reached for the car door. “I’m out. I’m not going to let my son get hurt. Tell Tank I tried my best. I really did want to do the right thing.”
“Is Tank in love with you, Lila?”
She laughed. “No. I loved his brother, Julio.”
Angela flinched at the name.
“Tank’s tried to help because he knew Julio loved me, too. Mrs. Guzman never wanted me and Julio to be together. She hates me. She wouldn’t lift a finger to help me.”
“So instead you threw in with the Grubers.” Dan figured he probably shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late.
“Harry helped me through school, paid my way. Set me up to work with Peter in the clinic. I thought it was kindness, but it was manipulation. Harry was just using me because he knew I’d keep quiet about the blood draws.”
“We can help you get out of this mess,” Dan said. “Go to the police.” Even as he said it he wondered how deeply Lieutenant Torrey was involved. Did he know that Patricia was performing the illegal surgeries? His gut sank as the final piece clicked into place. “Wait a minute. Harry is blackmailing Dr. Lane into doing the surgeries in exchange for getting Lance a kidney, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“I think you do.”
“I’m leaving,” she tossed out.
“You can’t just run away, Lila,” Angela said.
“Watch me,” she said. Before Angela could reach for her wrist, Lila was out the door and hurrying down a side street.
Dan gripped the steering wheel. “Harry isn’t going to let her go, and I’m not sure the police will protect her even if we go to them. Lila’s in over her head.”
“I wonder if we are, too,” Angela said. “We can’t force Betty to come forward. She would be too fearful anyway, after what happened to Ralph. Tank and Cora have skipped town. What’s left to do?”
He had a sinking feeling. “You’re right. This is a matter for the police now. You can walk away. You’ve done your best for Tank.” He felt a twist in his heart as he said it. Walk away. Walk out of his life. Why did the thought cut at him? The light gilded her hair, tinting her gaze with an even deeper shade of emerald. He smiled, and she shot him a questioning glance.
“I was just thinking about us playing basketball together in Afghanistan.”
“Feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It was. We were different people then, but I guess that’s God’s way of growing us up.” He gazed out the window as the setting sun painted the sky with pearls and grays. “You know, those were the most intense moments of my life, and some were horrible, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”
She was still for a moment. “Crazy as it sounds, even though I will never be free of the horrors, I think I would do it again, too.” She smiled. “There was great joy in serving, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, there was.” And then he was leaning over, stroking her hair and gazing into those incredible eyes. His mouth searched for hers. One moment he felt the warmth of her lips on his, sweet and sincere; then she pulled away sharply.
“I...” he started. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you,” she said. “You’re an amazing man. And in other circumstances—”
“I understand,” he said firmly. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Idiot, Dan. Stupid. She didn’t want a relationship, wasn’t in the mental frame of mind to welcome one. And he wasn’t, either.
She took his hand. “It’s okay. We have a connection, don’t we? A deep one.”
Urgency roiled through him, a thrilling idea and hope. “Do you think someday?”
Color flooded her face. “I can’t, Dan. I’ve got PTSD and it’s out of control. I realize that I cannot keep avoiding that. I’ve got to
get some help. That has to be my priority. I don’t know if I will ever get past it.”
“You will,” he said. “I know you will. We could do it together.”
“No. I have to get medical help and find a way to restore my connection with the Lord. That has to be first in my life. You helped me start on that journey, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“I see.” And he did, at least his brain understood, but his heart was thudding uncomfortably. He heard the finality in her voice. She would leave, and it would be permanent. “So what’s next then? For the case, I mean?”
“I can talk to the police in Coronado, since we can’t trust Torrey. They’ll help me with the investigation. I’ll phone my sister Candace back at the office and she can start the ball rolling.”
He nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s settled then.”
“I guess it is. When Donna and Marco make it back, we’ll head home.” She put her hand out suddenly, fingers trailing along his arm. “I want to say thank you for all that you’ve gone through to help me.”
“Anytime, Sherlock.” He forced a grin, then started the car to break the awkwardness. “I’ll take you back to the hotel. Marco and Donna will be there soon.”
“I need to make another stop first.” Something anguished crept into her tone. She laced her fingers together on her lap. “I have to talk to Tank’s mom before I leave.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
She tilted up her chin and nodded once.
“All right.” He put the car into drive and started off on what was likely going to be the last leg of their journey together.
* * *
Angela experienced a cascade of feelings as they drove to Mrs. Guzman’s assisted living facility. There was an ache in her heart from knowing that Dan cared for her so much that he wanted to pursue a relationship, and the pain at knowing she was turning her back on a possible future with him. But there was also a gleam of hope, that somehow, out of the tumultuous last year of her life, God was bringing her closer to Him. He would use her PTSD, her time with Dan and her sisters to bind her heart to His. It would be a painful process, fraught with desperation, but the tiny flame of hope kept flickering inside. God would help her find healing, reconnecting the vine and the branches as they were meant to be.