Carol Ericson - Deception

He jumped up next to her. “Are you okay? Did you lose control of the car?”

Shaking her head, she bent over and brushed the dirt and gravel from her flowery skirt. The toes of her bare feet curled into the gritty ground. “The brakes went out on me.”

The firefighters scrambled from the truck and rushed to the edge of the overlook. Then the fire captain, Dave Melendez, peeled away and approached them. He nodded at Dylan. “Hey, Chief. Miss, is that your car?”

“That was my car, or rather the rental company’s car.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. Shaken up.” She waved a hand in Dylan’s direction. “Dyl…Chief Reese came to my rescue.”

The ambulance roared into the overlook and squealed to a stop. Dylan held up both hands to slow them down. Thank God the EMTs wouldn’t be scraping anyone off those rocks down there.

Melendez asked, “Did you see what happened, Chief?”

“No, just the aftereffects. Ms. St. Regis’s car had plowed through the guardrail and was hanging halfway over the cliff with her in it.”

The captain whistled. “You’re lucky you got out of there before it went over.”

“Thanks to the chief.” Mia rubbed her arms. “He pulled me out before it went kaplooey.”

Dylan shrugged out of his windbreaker and draped it over Mia’s shoulders. His arm followed, as she swayed forward and he clamped her body to his.

An EMT, Patrick O’Shea, charged into the group. Dylan knew him, too—one of the more interesting aspects of working in a small town.

“Sit down, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll check you out.”

Mia wrinkled her nose, probably wondering how everyone in town knew her name. “I’m fine. Just a little unsteady.”

“You have an abrasion on your chin. Did the air bag deploy?”

Mia touched her fingertips to her reddened chin. “Yes.”

“You’ll probably have some bruising on your arms, too.” O’Shea jerked his thumb toward the back of the ambulance. “Have a seat and we’ll check out your vitals.”

She took a few shuffling steps away from Dylan, and he placed his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the ambulance. He exerted a little pressure to get her to sit in the back of the ambulance since she still seemed incapable of voluntary movement.

Melendez had returned from his investigation at the edge of the lookout. “They put out the fire. Not much damage from that, but the car’s pretty smashed up.”

Mia struggled against the blood pressure cuff secured around her arm. “My purse! My laptop! My…shoes.”

“Don’t worry about that now, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll salvage what we can, right, Chief?”

“But my laptop. I have…stuff on there.”

Dylan squeezed her knee. “Once they bring up the wreckage, I’ll have a few of my guys sort through it. Not sure your laptop would survive that drop and then the explosion that followed. I hope you have a backup for all those fancy designs you create.”

“Fancy…?” She settled back on the ambulance and let the EMT finish his inventory of her vitals. “Oh, you mean my work.”

What did she mean? Did she have photos of her family on there—husband, children? He’d never bothered to ask…too busy drinking in the sight of her with her gleaming chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She had the looks to be a model herself, but not the height. She barely reached his shoulder.

“Are you about finished with the patient?” Dylan wedged his boot against the tire of the ambulance. “She needs a ride home and a good, hot meal.”

O’Shea looked up from shining a light in Mia’s eyes. “Taking this chief stuff seriously, huh, Reese?”

“I run a full-service department. You ready, Mia?”

Her eyes widened, the dilated pupils making them look even darker. “You’re going to take me back to my motel?”

“Sure. I guess your exploration of the old homestead is going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I…I guess so.”

Dylan scratched his chin. “We’ll haul the car to Ted’s Garage. Maybe he can figure out what went wrong. The rental car company’s going to demand that anyway. They’ll probably try to put the blame on you.”

She pushed off the back of the ambulance, steadier on her feet this time. “Let ’em try. I wasn’t even speeding. I started going downhill, pumped the brakes a bit and…nada…they wouldn’t work.”

“You were going downhill?” Coming from town, he thought, she should’ve been going uphill. “I’m glad I was on the road tonight.”

“Me, too.” She dipped her head and scooted off the edge of the ambulance. “Did you call 911, too?”

“No. That call had already gone in by the time I saw your car.” He waved to the fire captain. “Hey, Dave. Do you know who made the 911 call?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to check with dispatch.” He tilted his head toward the clutch of firemen peering over the edge of the cliff, now joined by four cops in uniform—Dylan’s entire on-duty squad. “Your boys are calling in for a truck and a crane. My guys will make their way down there and try to get that hunk of junk up top.”

Mia hugged herself and hunched her shoulders. “I could’ve been part of that junk.”

“But you’re not.” Dylan snaked an arm around her again, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Her lips twitched into a smile, but her brow furrowed. “Don’t worry about dinner. All my money and credit cards are probably floating in the ocean about now.”

“No problem. You can pay me back.”

“Just like the brother I never had—but really, I’m not hungry.” She slugged him in the shoulder, and he winced—not because she packed a powerful punch, but the reference to being a brother had just cut him off at the knees.

He gave her a little shove from behind toward his squad car. “Wait for me in the car…and watch where you’re walking with those bare feet.”

After consulting with the accident scene investigators and his officers, Dylan slid into the car and eyed Mia slumped in his backseat. “You could’ve sat up front, you know, so you don’t look like a suspect.”

Sitting up, she curled her fingertips into the wire mesh that separated the front seat from the back. “Wasn’t sure I was allowed next to all those gadgets.”

“I trust you.” He wheeled his squad car to the edge of the turnout. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m at the Sea View Motel.”

As he pulled onto the highway, Dylan knitted his brows. “That’s in the other direction. What were you doing on this stretch of the highway?”

“I went to the house.”

“Columbella House?”

“Is there any other?”

“It’s dark.” He adjusted his mirror. “What did you hope to find there?”

She flopped back against the seat again. “I don’t know. Just had a burning desire to see it.”

“Are the lights on out there?”

“I had a flashlight. Of course, that’s with my purse, shoes and laptop now.”

“What did you get out of the visit? Did the ghosts of past St. Regis family members clue you in on what you should do with the house?”

“No, but whatever I do is going to be a monumental feat. The place is a mess.”

Dylan swung into the parking lot of the Sea View. He’d have expected Mia to stay at one of the more luxurious hotels in town or along the coast. The Sea View was decidedly low rent.

“Oh, crud.” Mia slapped the seat. “I don’t even have a key to get into my room.”

“Stop at the front desk. I’ll vouch for you.”

They crowded into the small office and tapped the bell on the counter. Gladys Hofstedter came out of the back, and shut the door on the TV blaring behind her. Her eyes popped when she took in the occupants at the counter. “Hello, Mia, Chief Reese.”