Dana Mentink - Seaside Secrets

“I had nothing to do with that explosion.”

“It’s a police matter now.”

“I need help. The way I see it, you owe me.”

“How’s that?”

“My brother died protecting you.”

The words cut into her like bullet fragments. “I...I don’t even know you.”

“Doesn’t matter. If my brother was alive, he’d have my back, but he’s dead because of you.”

The words robbed her of the power of speech. A throbbing pain filled her body.

“I need to talk to you now,” he said. “Meet me at the diner across the street in fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t.” She scrambled for an excuse. “I’m in my pajamas.”

There was the sound of soft laughter. “No, you’re not.”

Terror balled in her stomach. Could he see her? She scanned the parking lot, quiet and dark. No, she told herself. He’s bluffing. She let out a shaky breath.

“And you’d better drink your tea before it gets cold.”

The phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, disconnecting the call.

FOUR

Dan was finishing up reading an article in a kayaking magazine when his cell phone rang. He turned down the music and answered. For a few seconds, there was no one on the other end, which sent the nerves cascading along his spine.

“Who’s there?”

“Dan?” Another beat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

He stiffened. “What’s wrong, Angela?”

“Well...probably nothing.”

“I was born nosey. Tell me.”

“Tank called my room. I don’t know how he got my number, but...”

He heard the catch in her breath. “What?”

“He’s watching me. Maybe I should call the police.”

“Yes, you should.”

“But, I think he’s in trouble. He—I...I want to talk to him.”

Dan measured his words with care. “The police would advise against it, and so do I.” Too arrogant? He waited.

“I know, but I feel like I should.”

“You think you owe him because of what happened to Julio.” Overstepping for sure, but he couldn’t take it back now.

No answer from her.

“You don’t owe Tank anything. It’s not smart to meet him.”

“Thanks for the advice. Sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it and decide.”

Her tone was slightly miffed. He liked the hint of rebellion.

“I don’t know why I called. I apologize. Good night.”

“Hold on,” he said. “As soon as you hang up, you’re going to decide to go.”

“Are you a mind reader now?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said in what he hoped was a jovial tone. “And your mind is saying it was a good idea to call that annoying Blackwater guy because he can help. I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t leave your room until I get there.”

“You’re bossy.”

He chuckled. “Only when I’m right,” he said. “Stay put.” Not waiting for her to rally an argument, he was out the door in moments. Normally he’d bike the two miles, but it was faster to take his Chevy. The truck rumbled over to the hotel. Afraid she might have already left without him, he parked in the closest spot he could and jogged up to Angela’s room.

“It’s Dan,” he said, knocking on the door, praying she hadn’t gone on to meet Tank without him.

She opened the door wearing jeans and a thick sweater that matched her eyes. Her head cocked to the side, expression chagrined. “This is silly. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

He shrugged. “I’m up for silly. What else did he say to you?”

She relayed a few details about the call.

“All right. If it’s a misunderstanding, we’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go to the diner.”

“If he sees you with me, he might not come.”

“We’ve met, remember? Over the hood of a burning car, so he probably knows I’m not a cop. If he’s going to run, so be it.”

She shook her head. “This cloak-and-dagger stuff is ludicrous.”

“I thought you were a detective. Isn’t that your stock in trade?”

A sliver of a smile lightened her face. There was a quick flash of a dimple, which thrilled and scared him. He’d always been a sucker for dimples until his gorgeously dimpled fiancée left him. You deserved it, Dan. You came back from Afghanistan with different priorities. Wasn’t AnnaLisa’s fault. But still...dimples.

“I’m only a detective on paper, remember?” she said, but she followed him out to the parking lot.

He strolled close and put an arm around her shoulders.

She stiffened but did not pull away. “What are you doing?”

“Just letting Tank know you’ve got backup, in case he wants to try anything.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“There’s a reason he isn’t eager to take his problems to the cops. Let’s play it safe until we know more.”

The night was cold, and he felt her shiver. Then again, it might have been the insane day she’d had so far already. Explosions and clandestine meetings. She was right. Ludicrous, especially in the quiet town of Cobalt Cove.

The Beachbum Diner was an odd little spot, a throwback to the 1970s with booths upholstered in tan and yellow, with a menu as eclectic as the mismatched lighting fixtures.

Dan waved to Vin, the owner, and guided Angela to a corner booth. She slid in next to him, gaze darting around the place, which was fairly busy in spite of the late hour. Spillover festivalgoers devoured slices of pie and coffee, plates of waffles and eggs. No sign of Tank. “Can I get you something to eat?”

She jerked. “What?”

“Food.” He waved at the owner. “Vin makes a mean stir-fry.”

She raised an eyebrow and quirked her lips. “I was expecting burgers and omelets.”

“He makes those, too. We should order something so we look less conspicuous. Besides, Vin is putting three kids through college. Sitters don’t pay the tuition unless they’re eating.” Dan was about to go to the counter and order when Angela sat up straighter. She stared over his shoulder, lips pressed together as Tank joined them.

He sported a canvas jacket that had seen better days, turned up at the collar, and the same baseball cap he’d worn at the scene of the explosion. His face, though wider and dead serious, was indeed the image of his brother Julio’s. Dan knew it was the face Angela saw in her memories, reliving the moments before Julio Guzman was shot. It was a face he’d never forget either, a patient lost in spite of every bit of medical expertise he could muster. Losing. He detested it.

Tank sat across from them, hunched low. “Why are you here?” he said to Dan.

“Waiting to eat. What do you want with Angela?”

“Didn’t know you two were friends.”

Dan let the comment sit there. The silence grew. Tank shifted, looking from one to the other and finally settling on Angela. “You really a detective?” he said, jutting his chin at her.

“My family owns a detective agency. I help out.”

“Not a chaplain anymore?”

“I’m still a chaplain,” she said quietly.

His eyes narrowed. “Get anybody killed lately?”

Dan heard Angela suck in a breath. He moved to toss Tank out of the booth, but Angela stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Tank, there is no one sorrier than I am about what happened to your brother.”

“Sorry doesn’t matter. He’s still dead. Except for my wife and my mother, he’s practically the only family I had in this world, the only family I get to see, anyway.”

Dan saw the delicate muscles of her throat tighten.

“People die in combat,” Dan snapped.

“Yeah? Well, they’re supposed to die for a reason, not to keep some preacher alive.”