Angela locked herself in her hotel room and closed the curtains. She wanted nothing more than to hide from the world, from feelings that she could not control, pulsing unexpectedly like the flames of a wind-whipped fire.
At the core of it, she was afraid. Of losing control, of the threats she saw building all around her from the Grubers and Tank. But most of all, she feared that her soul would be trapped in this dark place forever.
Dan was right. If she was ministering to a soldier in the same situation, she would tell him that he’d been injured and he needed help for his PTSD. And she’d tried to get it for herself, but the shame and despair had made her discontinue seeing the doctor after only two visits. The final humiliation had been encountering a soldier she’d supported waiting to see the same doctor that she was. How could she counsel when she couldn’t find comfort herself? And how could she talk to others about God when He was silent in her life?
She closed her eyes, drifting off into a troubled sleep until a knock on the door made her leap to her feet, pillow clutched to her chest. A quick glance at the clock told her it was late afternoon, almost four.
“Angela?” Marco’s deep voice called. “Are you in there?”
She unlocked the door. Marco and Donna stood there, bags in hand.
Donna threw her arms around Angela and she endured the hug, disentangling herself as quickly as she could.
“I was getting worried when you didn’t answer,” Donna said. She was tanned and trim, long mane of hair highlighted from her time honeymooning in the sun.
“Why aren’t you with Brent?” Angela said.
She laughed. “Disasters don’t take vacations, so neither does the coast guard. He’s deployed to help with the evacuations on a distressed oil tanker, so I’ve got a week apart from my new hubby and the veterinary office.”
Angela was happy to see the smile on her sister’s face when she spoke of her husband. Brent was a fine man, and Donna deserved nothing less.
Marco bent to kiss Angela on the cheek. His dark eyes took in every detail of her face. “Your mother said I was to ask you if you’ve been getting enough to eat.”
Angela quirked a smile. “And what are you supposed to do about it if the answer is no?”
Marco shifted. “I figured Donna could handle that part.” He sat in a chair, Donna on the small sofa while Angela filled them in on the events since she’d arrived. She did not add anything about her emotional mess. That wasn’t something they needed to know.
Marco sat and listened, forearms leaning on his knees as he absorbed every detail without interrupting. Donna showed no such restraint, peppering Angela with questions until she reached the end with Peter at the clinic office.
“So who’s the bad guy here?” Donna said. “Tank? Peter? Harry? The cop?”
“That’s why I called you.” Angela sighed. “I don’t know.”
Marco raised a thick eyebrow. “What’s the doc think?”
She looked at her hands, but she knew Marco was watching for her reaction, gauging how deeply Dan was involved.
“He’s unsure.”
Marco waited a beat. “Is he going to be a part of this?”
Was he? Angela could not bear the calculating gleam in her sister’s eye. If only they knew how completely unable she was to be involved in a relationship of any kind. But then, she’d kept them as far away from her problems as she could. “It’s possible. He considers Lila Brown a friend, and she’s definitely scared of someone.”
Donna twisted a strand of her long hair. “Dan served with you, Candace said. Do we count him as a friend?”
“When he proves himself to be,” Marco said.
Always the gruff exterior, Marco was also a man who loved deeply and cared about the Gallagher family since he had none of his own anymore.
“First step is background checks on the players,” Marco said. “Grubers, Lila Brown, Tank Guzman.”
“I don’t think Tank is the guilty party here.”
“Is that because you don’t want him to be?” Donna asked with typical Gallagher bluntness.
Angela bit back an angry remark. “No. He brought me into this mess because he thinks we can prove Harry Gruber is trying to kill him.”
“Why?” Donna’s eyes rolled in thought. “How would a down-on-his-luck, unemployed guy be a threat to Harry Gruber? Gruber’s a successful business man, a philanthropist. Guzman’s a nobody.”
“He’s not a nobody,” Angela snapped. Marco and Donna stared. She took a breath. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it that way. I want to help him. I think he’s telling the truth.”
Donna’s face was still troubled. “Okay. You know him better than we do. Still, we’ll see what we can turn up on all three of them, okay?”
Angela nodded.
“Mind if I bunk here with you?” Donna said. “Marco’s got a room across the hall.”
As much as she loved her sister, Angela did not want to have anyone around. But there seemed no way out of it that would not hurt Donna’s feelings and incur unnecessary expense.
“Sure.”
Marco and Donna decided to get some dinner at the Beachbum, but Angela declined. When she was finally alone, she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put her spiraling thoughts in order. It was a huge comfort to have Marco and Donna in Cobalt Cove. Then why was her stomach still doing backflips?
Of all the details whirling in her mind, the one she could not forget was the lock of downy hair. Both Lila and Peter denied it had ever been there. So did the orderly. But she had seen it and so had Lila, and whoever sent it knew it would terrorize Lila into doing whatever they wanted of her.
Peter said Tank was infatuated with Lila. And her child, too?
What was Tank’s connection to Lila, anyway?
She suddenly realized how very little she knew about either one of them, how very little she knew about any of it.
* * *
The following morning Dan watched the sun rise in its glorious splendor over the still waters of Cobalt Cove as he munched his way through a bowl of granola and poured some cat food in a bowl for Babs. The air was crisp, the sky thick with wispy fog that might or might not burn off later in the day. A ping from his phone reminded him he had a noon appointment with Jeb for physical therapy. He would go for sure. Get the hand back into action and resume his role as a private-practice surgeon at the hospital.
His fingers curved as if they, even now, held the delicate instruments, the incredible telescopic cameras, the console controls that directed the robotic surgeries. The procedures were methodical, meticulously planned.
His heart traveled back to Kandahar, where no appointments were made, any plans tossed out the window at the beep of a pager that announced the arrival of the wounded. As a Role 3 hospital, they got the most critical cases and they’d saved countless lives. A navy reservist, Dan had volunteered, and all his research and preparation for what might occur was not even close to reality.
He recalled one nineteen-year-old soldier who had sustained grievous injuries to both legs, a big capital T written in marker on his forehead indicating he’d been brought in wearing a tourniquet. Under his uniform, he wore a ragged T-shirt with his son’s handprints on either side of a pink painted heart. I love you, Daddy.
Dan took the tiny notebook from his pocket and trailed his finger over the neatly written names until he found the one he sought, the daddy who’d lain on Dan’s table that day while a team of doctors worked feverishly to save him. A. Manning.
The A was for Anton, he’d learned later.
“We’re going to take care of you, son,” Dan had said that day in the operating theater, tainted with the smell of sweat and antiseptic.
Anton had smiled exactly one time and put his hand on Dan’s sleeve. Dan had not saved Anton Manning, in spite of his own efforts and those of the crack surgical team. They had not been enough. He’d mumbled his own prayer hours later as he sat with Manning’s flag-draped body, making sure he was not alone while they waited for mortuary affairs to arrive. They must never be alone, the ones that had not made it. Never. Then the solemn lines of personnel formed to deliver A. Manning on his way. The final salute.
I love you, Daddy. Words Anton never heard again this side of heaven.
Dan realized he’d been staring out the window so long, his coffee was cold. He dumped it in the sink. The ache still remained, a clear sign that he had to put away the notebook and bring himself back to the present. He did so.
The task at hand: How could he help Angela and Lila?
“Bull by the horns, Blackwater,” he told himself as he grabbed a jacket and headed to his truck. His plan was simple and straightforward. He’d known Lila for six months, and he figured that entitled him to a certain level of pushiness. If she was being harassed by the Grubers or Tank, maybe she’d open up to him about it. He thought about Peter staring at Angela from his office window. The only way to help her was to get to the bottom of the mystery.
He knew where Lila’s home was, a small rented in-law unit out back of a residence in the next town over, Seacliff. The name of the town was more scenic than it deserved, at least the neighborhood Lila lived in, which was a good five blocks from the beach. Her unit was attached to a two-story house with a fenced-off front yard and a half-dozen small children playing there. The home owner, Mrs. Grayson, ran a day care out of her house and provided supervision for Lila’s son, Quinn. All this, he’d learned in the coffee break room at the clinic.
A blue SUV was parked at the curb near the house with three people inside.
Dan parked and approached the vehicle. Marco saw him coming and rolled down the window.
“You’re the doc?”
“Call me Dan. Good to meet in person.”
“Likewise.”
Angela sat in the backseat, looking very surprised to see him. A woman with long blond hair and the same full-lipped smile as Angela’s got out of the car along with Marco.
“I’m Donna Mitchell, Angela’s sister.”
Dan greeted her and Marco with a warm handshake. “I don’t suppose it’s coincidence that we all wound up here this morning?”
Marco leaned against the car. He was a solid six feet of muscle, four inches shorter than Dan but broader around the chest. Tough guy. Dan found himself straightening as they took each other’s measure.
“Wanted to talk to Lila Brown away from the clinic,” Marco said.
“Good idea, but this isn’t the way to do it.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s scared. A bunch of strangers trooping into her home isn’t going to make her want to talk.”
Donna grinned. “We’re very persuasive.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll talk to her alone.”
Marco’s gaze drifted to the children. “No offense, but you might not ask the right questions.”
“Because I’m not a private investigator?” Dan felt a flash of irritation. “Doctors are pretty good detectives, too, for your information.”
Marco shrugged.
“He didn’t mean you’re not qualified,” Donna said.
“Yes, he did,” Dan said. “But I get the point. I’m going to talk to her, but Angela should come with me. Lila’s seen her face before. She can ask whatever you want her to.”
Angela’s eyes widened. “Lila doesn’t trust me. She was trying to keep Tank away from me.”
“Possibly.”
Mrs. Grayson emerged in the yard, sipping a cup of coffee and staring at them.
“We’re attracting attention. Come on, Angela.” Dan took her by the hand before she could object and walked toward the yard. He figured if Marco and Donna were going to follow, at least he’d get a head start. They didn’t.
“Marco always so direct?”
Angela sighed. “Pretty much. He’s the kind of guy people love or can’t stand.”
It was clear that Angela and Donna adored Marco. He felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy.
Dan greeted Mrs. Grayson with a smile. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Dr. Blackwater. I’m a friend of Lila’s. May I speak with her a moment?”
Mrs. Grayson looked him over. “Why?”
“Just some clinic business. It will only take a minute.”
“Lila’s pretty shy. She keeps to herself.”
Dan applied some more genial conversation until Mrs. Grayson waved a hand. “She’s out back. Go ahead.”
Dan and Angela picked their way across the crooked stepping-stones and out to the tiny unit. They heard a child cry and a woman’s voice singing a song about monkeys in trees. He knocked.
The singing stopped.
“Who is it?”
Dan explained.
“I’m...not feeling well,” Lila said. “I can’t talk to you now.”
Dan exchanged a look with Angela. “We know that you’re scared, Lila. Whoever put that bomb in your car meant business. We need to figure it out before you...or your baby gets hurt.”
A long silence. He thought they were going to have to go back to the car and report their failure, when slowly the door creaked open. He got a glimpse of a small room, baby toys scattered on the carpet. Behind Lila was a little boy, holding himself up by gripping her pant leg, two fingers stuck in his mouth.
“Hey there,” Dan said, bending down. “You must be Quinn.”
Lila’s face softened, but she did not open the door any farther. “Yes. He’s ten months old today.”
“Handsome,” Angela said. “What a cutie.”
Quinn had his mother’s dark hair and winning smile.
“May we come in and talk?” Dan said. “Just for a minute.”
Lila flinched. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Lila if you’re scared of the Grubers—” Dan said.
“I’m not,” she snapped. “The Grubers have been good to me. Everything is fine. Really. I don’t need any help.”
“You were almost blown up,” Angela said. “What if your baby had been in the car?”
“He wasn’t,” she hissed. Then she took a calming breath. “I’m not in danger anymore. Thank you for your concern, but I want you to leave now.”
“I think you are in trouble still,” Dan said. “You’ve got to talk to someone, for your son’s sake.”
Eyes flashing, she swept Quinn up in her arms. “Don’t tell me how to mother my son, Dr. Blackwater. You don’t know anything about me or my boy. If you want to help, keep Tank away from me. As long as he’s nowhere near me, we’ll be fine.”
“Why?” Dan pressed. “Is Tank the one who blew up your car and sent the flowers in the hospital?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know you ran into the Grubers when you fled the hospital,” Angela said. “What did they say to you?”
“Like I said, the Grubers are helping me. That’s all.” She started to close the door. “I’m not talking anymore. Just keep Tank away from me.”
The door slammed, and they heard the lock slide home.
Dan was about to knock on the door again when he heard a shout from the street. They jogged back to the car, past a curious Mrs. Grayson.
Donna was emerging up the slope near the road. She ran for the car. Marco was nowhere in sight.
“What happened?” Angela demanded as they hurried after her sister.
“Tank showed up, at least we think it was Tank based on your description, hair long in the back, baseball cap, jacket. He was headed for Lila’s house when he saw us. Marco tried to talk to him, but he took off, and Marco chased him that way. “Get in. He’s headed toward the beach.”
“I’ll go on foot,” Dan said, sprinting away from the road and down toward the weed-filled ravine where Marco had gone. He pushed through the knee-high grass, burrs clinging to his socks and jeans. The ravine abruptly ended, dumping out onto an empty parking lot that he crossed in a matter of moments. On the far side, a swirling trail of dust indicated Marco had taken a dirt path. Dan hurried after, catching sight of Marco some fifty feet ahead of him, legs churning, running hard.
Dan put on the speed and closed the gap, plenty of IRONMAN-training runs making the effort easy for him. The road climbed up to a bluff that overlooked a wide grassy lot, strewn with rusted cars and blocks of broken cement. It was some sort of dumping ground by the looks of it, with the remnants of a burned-out warehouse overlooking the mess. Birds picked around in the weeds. A rat crouched in the sun on a rusting fender.
Marco was standing near an ancient overturned truck, doing a slow circle, grumbling softly to himself.
“Lost him?” Dan said.
“He’s here,” Marco murmured. “I’ll find him.”
Donna appeared, panting. Her eyes were wild as she looked behind her. “Where is Angela?”
Dan’s gut tightened down into a fist.
Marco tensed. “Thought she was with you.”
“She was. We got out together, but Angela went back to the car to get her phone. I just noticed she wasn’t behind me, so I ran back and checked. She’s not there.”
Dan scanned the machine cemetery for any sign of Angela. Nothing. Had she caught sight of Tank and taken off on her own? No, he reassured himself. Donna had just missed her somehow.
And then he heard the scream.