Dana Mentink - Flood Zone

Dallas arched an eyebrow. “A sandwich. Isn’t that why you’re here?” He smiled at Sam. “The usual, my good man.”

“Vegetarian with extra mustard and no eggplant, heavy on the jalapenos,” Sam rattled off.

Dallas slouched into a chair, long legs extended. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Mia felt the twin pangs of affection and irritation at seeing Dallas there. She wanted the man out of her life, yet why did something inside her warm up whenever he appeared? Was he keeping tabs on her? The thought both infuriated and tantalized her.

Focus, would you? “I’ll just fill this out,” she said to Sam, making her way to a chair well away from Dallas.

Stiving followed her. “You might not want to take a new job, just yet.”

Something about the gleam in his eye worried her. “Why?”

“Because it seems you’re an heiress.”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Just got word that Cora left her house and property to you. Of course, the house is pretty messed up, but the twenty acres of property, well that’s worth a nice tidy sum, I’ll bet.”

Mia realized her mouth was hanging open. “Cora left her property to me?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Of course it does. I had no idea.”

“That right?” He wiped his thick fingers on a paper napkin. Graying chest hair puffed out at the top of his uniform shirt. “No idea at all?”

“None. What are you implying?”

“Cops, you know, look at these things called motives. Inheriting a nice chunk of land is motive.”

“For what?” Mia managed to squeak out.

“For murder,” he said with a smile.

* * *

Dallas moved closer when it seemed as though Mia was unable to marshal a response. “What do you have that points in that direction?”

Stiving leveled a derisive look at him. “Not that it’s your business, but the coroner’s initial take is that Cora didn’t die from the fire.”

Mia let out a little cry, her face gone deadly pale.

Dallas tensed. “Cause?”

Stiving stretched against the upholstered booth. “That’s as much as I’m going to say right now. You all have a great day. I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

He left. Dallas realized that Sam had been standing just behind them holding a sandwich on a plastic plate. “Uh, well, I’m real sorry and all that, Mia, but maybe Stiving is right. With everything going on, it doesn’t seem like a good time to have you start working here.”

He shoved the plate at Dallas and waddled back to the kitchen.

Dallas dropped money on the counter, no tip, and left the sandwich on the table. By the time he’d finished, Mia had made her way outside, sinking onto a brick planter, oblivious to Juno, who had been watching through the window the whole time, swabbing an eager tongue over her hand.

Dallas sat next to her. Dark clouds overhead promised more rain and dulled the soft brown of her eyes. Or maybe it was the shock that did it. What to say to comfort her in the present situation eluded him, so he went with his gut.

“They don’t have any proof. He’s trying to rattle you.”

The words seemed to startle her. “He thinks she was poisoned with the pills I got for her.”

“Speculation and proof are two different things.”

“Juno knew there was something in those pills.”

“Doesn’t mean you put it there.”

She pressed shaking hands to her mouth. “I can’t believe it. He wants to put me in jail. I can’t go to jail, Dallas.”

Her voice broke and it killed him. “You won’t.”

“But my past...isn’t lily white.”

“Whose is?” He wanted to smooth away the furrow between her brows, the agony in her expression. “It was self-defense before. Totally different. Your ex admits that now.”

Her eyes rounded. “Have you been studying my past?”

Smooth, Dallas. Why don’t you explain how you know every detail of her life? He went for casual. “Heard it somewhere.”

She was too upset to think more about it. “Maybe I should leave here,” she whispered. “Go back to Florida.”

His pulse accelerated the tiniest bit. He said as gently as he could, “Thought you wanted a fresh start.”

“Away from the Sandoval name,” she finished. “I do, but my past seems to have followed me here.”

And did her husband’s past have anything to do with her current situation? He did not see how it could, but it was his job to find out. He’d made a promise. “There was someone else at Cora’s house who could have tampered with the pills. We just have to figure out who the woman in the photo is.”

Mia chewed her lip. “This is a nightmare.”

“We’ll fix it.”

Her eyes flickered at the pronoun.

We? When had loner Dallas Black begun to think of them as partners? The only partner he’d ever really trusted was the kind covered with fur and with a tendency to slobber. “Look who’s just hit town,” he said as Gracie broke away from Tina and ran to them, splashing through the puddles on the sidewalk.

“Hi, Mr. Dallas. Hi, Mommy. I’m here,” she announced, heading straight for Juno to give him an ear rub. “Tina said we could get ice cream.”

Mia recovered herself to give Tina a stern look.

The girl shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t say no to those dimples.”

“I can,” Mia said, her mouth twisting in sadness. “But I won’t. I think I could use a scoop, too.”

“Mr. Dallas, come on,” Gracie said, tugging on his hand. “We can get some for Juno.”

Mia’s look was enough to discourage him. “I’ve got to go right now, Gracie. Maybe another time.”

Mia’s slight nod affirmed he’d made the right choice, so why did his heart tell him otherwise? He moved close to Mia, talking low in her ear and trying not to breathe in a lungful of her shampoo-scented hair. “I’ve got a friend who works at the police department. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

She put a hand on his biceps. “I don’t want to ask you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t ask.”

He heard her sigh, sad as the sound of a blues song, as she led Gracie away without looking back, her shoulders hunched against the storm-washed sky.

* * *

Mia tried to keep Gracie occupied with the ice cream parlor and the park, but all the while her mind was racing. The police thought she’d killed her dearest friend. How could it be happening? And to inherit when Cora had blood relatives to whom she could pass her estate? The only spot of comfort was Dallas, and she had to steel herself against any connection, no matter how much she craved it. Still, she thought she could remember the feel of his hard muscled arm under her fingers—strong, solid, the steady warmth in his eyes.

You’ve seen eyes like those before, remember, Mia?

Rain began to fall a little after five, and she zipped Gracie’s jacket and insisted they return to the car where a nasty surprise awaited her. Her rear tire was flat all the way to the rim.

“Great. I must have driven over a screw or something.” With a heavy sigh, she gave her purse to Gracie to hold and got the jack and lug wrench from the trunk. Two gentlemen and a young couple out walking their dog stopped and offered help, but Mia waved with a cheer she did not feel and finished the job herself. The effort took much longer than it should have and it was nearly sundown when she cleansed her grease-stained hands with one of her endless supply of disinfectant wipes and took the road toward home.

Gracie sang “Where Does the Ladybug Live?” as the miles went by and Mia even joined in for a while, but, as darkness fell, her stress returned. No job, no way to pay the rent and now a replacement tire needed to be purchased.

Gritting her teeth, she forced the worry down deep.