Flood Zone

by Dana Mentink

  Mia jerked. “The floral perfume fragrance. I thought it was familiar. It’s Catherine’s. You followed her to Peter’s?”

  “I’ve been watching her house. I was curious to see if she knew what kind of man she was married to.” Susan laughed. “She’s scared of me. Anyway, she brought him the photo of Peter and Thomas. Don’t know how she got her hands on it unless she was in on Cora’s murder the whole time.”

  Mia took the photo from her pocket. “Who is the seated man in the boat?”

  “Asa.” She chewed her lip. “You see? Shows the three were acquainted, though Peter claimed to be a random stranger who saw Asa drowning. The photo proves a connection between them, and the police would connect the dots, I have no doubt.”

  “And why would Catherine take the photo to Peter? Blackmail? To set him up to be murdered?” Mia wondered aloud.

  “Or she’s innocent,” Dallas said. “Could be she found the photo after Elias took it from Cora and she became suspicious, wanted to check up on her husband.”

  Mia slid the photo in the visor, staring at it as they drove.

  Rain slammed into the windshield. Susan turned her face to the glass and watched the water sheeting along the window. Her eyes drooped. “I’m too tired to talk anymore.”

  He did not think Mia was even breathing until she heaved a long shaky breath. “It’s true. Dr. Elias killed Cora.”

  “And Asa, and Peter,” Dallas said.

  “And he’ll do the same to me, if he gets hold of me,” Susan said.

  “But now we have proof.” Mia’s voice held a tone of wonder. “We can go to the police and expose him. I can have my life back.”

  The hope shone on her face and his pulse trip hammered. Where would that life take her? Back to Florida? To some other faraway place? Didn’t matter. Wherever it was, it wasn’t going to include him. He cleared his throat. “Try the police again.”

  She did, with no better result.

  They made it over the top of the mountain and began the descent. Half a mile later, he pulled the truck to a stop behind another truck and an SUV. A gnarled ponderosa pine had clawed free of the earth and fallen, blocking the road in both directions. The road was hemmed in by a steep drop on one side and the mountain on the other.

  Dallas got out to talk to the bearded man from the truck just ahead of them. The guy was fetching a chain saw from the covered cab of his vehicle. He introduced himself as Mack.

  “Gonna have to chop it up and haul it off as best we can,” Mack shouted to Dallas over the roar of the chain saw. “Folks are gonna be packing this road to get out of here if the rain don’t stop.”

  “How much time you figure before they order evacuations?” Dallas called.

  “If the storm don’t turn ASAP, they’ll be evacuating before nightfall. Rivers are full.”

  Recalling Peter’s body whirling away on the swollen river, Dallas fought a pang of horror. He started in, hauling away the branches as the bearded man cleaved them from the trunk. The two from the other stopped vehicle, a father and his strapping teen son, set to work helping also.

  “Got some orange cones in my truck,” Mack hollered. “Put ’em out on the road so we don’t have a pileup.”

  Dallas nodded and retrieved the markers. He walked past Mia who was still trying to get a signal on her phone. Susan appeared to be sleeping, her forehead pressed against the glass. He had thought she was deranged and he still wondered about her sanity, but he could not deny what she said made sense. Dr. Elias was a killer. And he had to be stopped.

  Splashing through puddles, he set the cones down a few yards from the back of his truck to signal oncoming drivers. One more set around the turn in the road would be sufficient, he thought, as he slogged onward. Just in time as a dump truck eased to a stop. He got a glimpse of the driver’s face, older, scruff of a beard.

  But it was the passenger that made his blood run cold.

  Archie Gonzales gave him a startled look as he leapt from the cab.

  Dallas was at the passenger door before Archie had shoved it fully open. There was no time for Archie to reach for a weapon. Dallas grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the side of the truck.

  “Funny how you always turn up,” Dallas snarled.

  The truck driver appeared around the front fender. “What’s going on?”

  “Private business,” Dallas grunted. His tone must have convinced the driver.

  “I’m going to help clear the road,” he mumbled, ambling away over the muck.

  Archie tried to move Dallas’s hands away, but he did not loosen his grip. “Wasted effort, man. I’m leaving town. My piece of junk rental got stuck in the mud, and I hitched a ride. Going to the airport.”

  “Leaving? Why?” It occurred to Dallas that he might have been wrong about what had happened at the river. “Did you arrange to have Peter Finnigan killed?”

  “Guy who bought it in the river? No. But I have to say, I didn’t see that coming. Nice piece of work. Cell phone trigger?”

  “Yeah, and I’m sure you’ve got a cell phone handy.”

  “Who doesn’t? It wasn’t me, though. As I said, I’m out of here.”

  “Explain,” Dallas said, applying pressure to Archie’s windpipe.

  He squirmed. “I was following you and Mia, like I’m paid to do. Don’t know who blew up this Peter guy, but I’m thinking it’s probably the doctor. He’s the one who looped me in. Or maybe his wife.”

  Mia ran up in time to overhear, cheeks pink, rain rolling down her long hair. “Dr. Elias contacted you in Miami?”

  “He contacted Mr. Garza. Tipped him off that you were in Spanish Canyon, and that’s why I got sent here.” Archie shot her a look. “What did you do to cross that doctor? He’s more ruthless than my boss.”

  “Oh, no,” Mia said. “He knew Cora was going to tell me, warn me about what she’d learned. He must have been tracking her emails.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t care. Not my business. I was sent to find the stash.”

  Mia let out a cry. “But I don’t have any money. How many times can I say it? Hector didn’t leave me a thing. How can I convince you?”

  “Already done. Seems brother Reuben went to see Hector and explained that you and tiny tot were in trouble. Hector came clean. His stash was in Miami all along. Mr. Garza has his money, and my job here is done.”

  Mia shook her head and let out a sigh.

  “Not done,” Dallas growled. “You led Gracie up to the roof. She could have been hurt. You have to pay for that.”

  Archie managed a choked laugh. “Lying to a kid isn’t against the law. People do it all the time.”

  “We’ll see if the police agree. You broke into Mia’s house, too. Better get a lawyer.”

  Archie struggled under Dallas’s grip. “Don’t have time for that. This whole county’s gonna be underwater and I want to go home.”

  “Well,” Dallas said, anger at the fear Archie had caused Mia still bubbling in his veins, “this just isn’t your day.”

  Rain stung his face as he turned Archie around. “Mia, there’s some rope in the back of the truck.”

  She dashed through the rain back up the road.

  A trickle of mud ran down from the mountainside and past Dallas’s feet.

  “I hate Colorado,” Archie spat.

  “Should have stayed in Miami.” Dallas could not prevent a feeling of satisfaction from sweeping through him. Maybe the cops wouldn’t charge Archie with anything, but upsetting his easy escape was a small triumph. At this point, he’d take what he could get. Archie first, Dr. Elias next.

  Another wave of muck flowed under the truck and across the road. Dallas looked through the sheeting rain. The mountainside was black, denuded a few years back, he estimated, by a wildfire.

 
The ground trembled under his feet.

  Archie’s eyes rolled as he tried to process what was happening.

  There wasn’t time.

  With a roar the mountainside fell away into a river of mud that swept toward the truck.

  He thought he detected a scream, Mia’s scream, but it was lost in the rumble of movement as the mud carried Archie, Dallas and the truck over the cliff.

  THIRTEEN

  The river of black engulfed Dallas and Archie, the cacophony swallowing up Mia’s scream as she struggled to keep her footing on the trembling road. For a moment, she thought the entire stretch would be sucked up by the massive flow, like a monstrous inverse volcano. There was nowhere to run.

  As the movement of the earth slowed, the mighty roar ebbed to a murmur. The flow softened into a trickle and then, eerie silence. Her heart cried out for Dallas. She half stumbled, half crawled, along the edge of the road, wiping the rain from her face. Down below was a sea of mud, coating the steep slope, blanketing the trees, blotting out everything it touched. The upended truck had caught on a trunk, wheels spinning lazily above the black ooze that imprisoned it.

  “Dallas,” she screamed.

  The truck driver and the man with the chain saw raced up.

  “Two men are down there,” Mia screamed, trying to discern a path she could take to reach them.

  “Make that one,” the truck driver said, pointing.

  A mud-caked figure detached itself from the mess, struggling upright.

  The men tied a rope to a tree at the edge of the road and lowered it down. The man grabbed it and hoisted himself up, hand over hand.

  Was it Dallas or Archie? Mia found she was holding her breath as the victim fought to pull himself up from the pit. When he was within a few feet of the top, the men reached over and grabbed his arms.

  With one synchronized heave, he was pulled over the edge. On hands and knees, he crouched, sucking in a breath. Mia pressed close, unable to force out the question.

  “Man,” Archie said, wiping a layer of mud from his face. “I really hate this state.”

  Mia’s breath choked off as she ran to the edge again. There was no movement from below, no sign of Dallas.

  No, Lord. Please, no.

  “I’ll try the radio,” the truck driver said gently. “We’ll call for help.”

  The other man helped Archie to his feet and moved him away from the slide. Mia stared down into the muck. Think, Mia. She spotted the place where Archie had emerged, just behind a stand of three trees that had caught the truck. The thick trunks would have deflected some of the force of the earth flow. If Dallas was there...

  “Hey, lady,” she heard someone call, as she climbed over the roadbed, clinging to the rope as her feet sank in the mud.

  What am I doing? What if I drown in this smothering blanket?

  What if she did?

  What would she have to show for her life? A perfect daughter, yes, and a heart choked with so much anger, hurt and distrust that it was nearly drowned already. I’ve wasted time being afraid. I’m sorry. So sorry. Her soul offered up the words and it was as if they rose up to the clean, storm-washed air above, even as her body sank into the filth below. A sense of calm ate away at the panic. Mud oozed and sloshed around her, her legs sinking in up to her thighs and then her waist until she was more swimming through it than climbing down. When she came level with the truck, she pulled up the rest of the rope and tied it around herself, transferring her grip from the rope to the sturdy truck fender.

  “Dallas,” she called. The rain drilled tiny craters into the mud surrounding her. Everything was so monochromatic, a sea of black. She would have to edge around the front of the truck to be able to see beyond. Fingers cold and caked with slippery mud, she groped her way along. A metal shard on the fender nicked her palm.

  A few more feet to go, sodden soil sucking against her every inch of the journey, she made her way around the fender.

  As she’d suspected, beyond the stand of tightly clustered trees was a space relatively unscathed by the flow. He was not there. Body tingling with despair she scanned frantically.

  “Dallas,” she yelled again.

  A small movement caught her eye. She’d been mistaken. Among the roots of one of the massive trees, she saw him, lying on his side, covered with mud, as black as the shadows that cloaked him.

  She scrambled along, fitting between the trees, and made it to his side.

  Breathing, let him be breathing. With a shaking hand, she brushed some of the cloying mud from his face.

  His eyes blinked open, and it seemed at that exact moment, something inside her opened up, too. She leaned her cheek on his forehead. “Oh, Dallas” was all she could manage.

  His eyes widened, the whites brilliant against his mud-streaked face. The breath caught in her throat, and she realized she’d never seen such a truly spectacular sight as those black irises, regarding her soberly, flaming to life as his senses returned. She reached out and stroked his face, running her fingertips along his forehead, his cheeks, again and again, until she began to believe he was really and truly alive.

  Was it relief she saw in his eyes? She might have thought it joy, but why would it be so? Her brain reminded her what her heart did not want to acknowledge: she was a job, and she had every right to be angry at this deceiver whose hand she now clung to, their filthy fingers twined together. He had tricked her and withheld the truth from her.

  Yet it was definitely not anger she felt, nor anything close to it. And that scared her more than the mudslide. She let go.

  His lips moved, but she couldn’t detect any sound until she leaned close.

  “That was a wild ride,” he muttered.

  She laughed. It was absurd. Nestled in the mud up to her knees with a man who’d nearly been buried under tons of mountain, rain sheeting down on them both, she could not hold in the relieved giggle that bubbled from her mouth.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said, biting her lip to steady her frayed nerves.

  “So did I, for a while there,” he said, struggling to pull himself to a sitting position, letting loose a shower of broken twigs and debris.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Dunno yet.” Clods of dirt fell away as he moved, the rain washing some of the grime from his face. He stared at her, his gaze so intense it made her look away. “I’m just glad you didn’t get sucked down here with me.”

  “No, I got here under my own steam.”

  Eyeing the slope he shook his head. “Incredible. Why didn’t you wait for help?”

  She gave him a casual shrug. The truth was, she did not fully understand why she had done something so rash, for him, when the hurt still echoed inside. “Seemed like the thing to do after only one of you made it out.”

  He stiffened, as if remembering. “Archie?”

  “He climbed up, unharmed, of course.”

  “Of course.” Dallas tried to get to his feet. “We’ve got to get back up there. Go to the police.”

  He stood too quickly, staggering backwards. She quickly shoved her shoulder under his. “Slow. I can’t carry you out of here, so don’t push too hard.”

  He considered the slope and groaned. “That’s a long way back up.”

  She showed him the rope tied around her waist, ridiculously pleased at the respect on his face.

  “Smart thinking to tie the rope.”

  “I’m not as good at rescue as Juno, but I do my best.”

  He laughed, winced, and put a hand to his ribs.

  “Broken?”

  “Probably bruised, but I’ll make it.”

  She unknotted the rope from her body so they could both grab hold. They began the arduous ascent, first climbing around the ruined truck and then struggling up the slope, stopping
every few feet to rest, sinking sometimes to their knees, sometimes to their waists in the sticky mud. When he stumbled back, she would grab his arm, holding him steady until he regained his balance. When she slowed, mired down by the cloying mass, he pulled her through the worst of it. Though she did not want his help, she was grateful. Now that the adrenaline from the rescue was depleted, every muscle in her body seemed to resent the effort it took to climb back to the road.

  Mack met them halfway down, lowered on another rope fed to him by the truck driver. Mia could have cried in relief when the big man grasped her around the waist and they were hauled to the top by the men, and, to Mia’s surprise, Susan.

  Susan helped her to sit on the fender of Dallas’s truck while Mack went back down the slope to assist Dallas. From somewhere Susan produced a handkerchief and wiped the grit from Mia’s face as best she could.

  The rain continued to thunder all around them, and now she found herself pleased with the downpour that washed some of the clinging film of mud off her clothes. She felt light and lifted inside, as if she’d somehow left some of her anger at the bottom of the cliff. She was not ready to forgive, not yet, but it did not stop her from enjoying the relief that came from putting down some of her burden. Quietly, she thanked the Lord for blessing her and Dallas with another day of life. How odd to feel thankful. How very strange and foreign.

  Dallas was helped over the top, and he walked gingerly over to join her. “Archie’s gone,” he said morosely. “He got away again.”

  Mia shook away her strange ponderings, and rubbed at a scrape on her arm. “Good riddance. I never want to see him again. I hope he’s right that Mr. Garza is finally satisfied.”

  “He’s got no reason to go after you anymore,” Dallas said. “Hector gave him what he wanted.”

  “Only when he had to.”

  “Because he heard you were in danger.”

  She felt shamed. “Yes, I guess so. He loves us, in his own fashion.”

  “That’s one thing he has right.” He held her gaze and she found she could not look away. Had the rain become warmer as it fell? The wind melodious as it swept along the road? Had Dallas become even more attractive, filthiness aside? Could be it was all colored by relief, she concluded.