Dan fumed on the way to the hospital. Angela Gallagher was in no position to be accusing him of hiding from his problems. His choice not to return to surgery wasn’t because of lingering impact from his past. He’d chosen to do other things, to give himself a break.
A break that had lasted far longer than he’d intended, hand injury notwithstanding.
“What are you hiding from? We haven’t been out on a date all week,” he remembered AnnaLisa demanding in the months after he’d returned home.
“Not hiding,” he’d say cheerfully over the phone as he’d headed for the door to go for a bike ride or swim in the ocean. Concentrating on the breathing, the muscle movement; a focus on each minute system that pumped life through his body became something he craved. As a way to escape from memories he did not want to relive? No. Self-healing, that was all. Strengthening of the mind and body was not hiding. Was it?
He shut the thoughts down and guided the convertible to the hospital, sliding into a parking space. Angela hopped out before he could get the door for her. Just as well. His pride still stung.
They made their way up to the third floor and found Patricia Lane gone. The nurse directed them to the dialysis clinic. When they arrived, they ducked their heads inside. Patricia sat with a gaunt young man, holding his hand. It was obviously a private moment, so they were turning to go when she spotted Dan.
She looked at them in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Just had a question for you. We’ll wait outside. Don’t hurry.”
The young man opened his eyes, examining Dan and Angela curiously. “Nice to see some different faces,” he said. “This place has all the charm of a mausoleum.”
“This is my son-in-law, Lance,” she said.
Dan remembered hearing from Jeb that Lance was ill, but Dan had not known her well enough to ask about the particulars. She’d come on board at the hospital only a few months before he’d deployed, so there wasn’t a close bond between them.
Angela looked at Lance intently, as if she recognized him, but she did not comment beyond the pleasantries. They made polite introductions and excused themselves to wait in the hallway.
Patricia joined them after a few moments.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Dan said. “How is your son-in-law?”
“Failing, if you want the honest truth,” she said. He saw lines of fatigue and worry etched into her face. “Only one of his kidneys is functioning. Barely.”
“Is he a transplant candidate?”
She sighed. “He would be if he could stop drinking. He’s failed two blood tests so far, so he’s disqualified himself from getting a transplant until he can prove he’s sticking with his treatment plan. Dialysis is our only option right now.” She sighed. “As a surgeon, I would make the same decision. Why give a precious organ to someone who continues to abuse their body?”
He was not sure how to respond.
She shrugged. “Sorry to sound bitter. Lance was married to my daughter, and she was killed in a wreck shortly after their baby was born. So Lance is the only parent Sadie has left. It kills me that I can’t fix him and he can’t fix his own addiction no matter how many treatment programs he’s attempted. Maybe it wouldn’t be so frustrating if I wasn’t in this line of work. Doctor, heal thy own.” She shook her head.
Dan put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’s a fighter, and so am I. We will get through this for Sadie’s sake. But you didn’t come here to talk to me about Lance. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to ask you about Ralph Pickford. Is he a patient of yours?”
She blinked, looking away. “No.”
“Then why was he in your exam room the day Lila Brown ran away from here?”
“Ralph was confused. He’s been a local fixture in town for the past year. He comes in often to warm up or use the bathroom. That day he began to wander the halls, insisting he needed lunch.” She smiled. “We got him some gelatin and a soup cup.”
“That was kind of you,” Angela said.
She shrugged. “I don’t like to see anyone go hungry. Why are you asking about him?”
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Lieutenant Torrey, wearing chinos and a black jacket, walked up. He handed Patricia a cup of coffee, holding another cup for himself.
“Oh, that’s why Lance looks familiar,” Angela said to Torrey. “He has your chin and eyes. He’s your son, isn’t he?”
Dan was thunderstruck that he had not seen the resemblance before. He’d known Lance was Patricia’s son-in-law, but he’d never suspected that Torrey was Lance’s father.
“Good detective work,” Torrey said. “Yes, he’s my son. Patricia and I share a granddaughter. Sadie’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He took out his cell phone. “I know I’m partial, but isn’t that the cutest face you ever did see?”
A little girl, probably three years old, grinned on the screen, curly hair, brown eyes, freckles.
“She is pretty cute, all right,” Angela said.
His smile softened the heavy creases in his face as he nodded to Patricia. “Came to check on my boy. How’s he doing?”
Patricia’s face was grim. “Hanging in there. Amyloidosis is getting him down.”
Torrey looked at them. “Stiffness and discomfort from too much protein in the blood. Gets deposited on joints or tendons.” He shrugged. “I’m getting to be an expert since this all happened to his mother, too, before it killed her. Genes are nothing to laugh at. So why are you here asking Patricia questions about Ralph Pickford?”
“We think he’s got something to do with Tank and the Grubers.”
Torrey’s eyes narrowed. “So why ask Patricia?”
“I saw Ralph here at the hospital the day Lila bolted,” Dan said.
Patricia shoved her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “But that was just coincidental. He’s not my patient, so I can’t really tell them anything.”
“I know he was treated at the clinic,” Dan said. “I’ll ask Lila about it.”
“Here’s a thought, Doc. How about I ask her?” Torrey snapped. “Or is that getting in the way of your amateur hour?”
“Max...” Patricia said, a warning in her tone.
“No, really. I mean you seem like you two got this whole thing handled.” His eyes blazed. “You’re everywhere. At the hospital, the beach, Lila’s house. I’m not even sure why we need cops in this town with you detectives on the case.”
Dan straightened. “We’re all looking for the truth. That puts us both on the same side.”
“Does it now?” Torrey said. “’Cause it sure feels a lot like you two are doing whatever suits your fancy.”
“That’s because of me,” Angela said. “I’m trying to help Tank, and Dr. Blackwater got caught up in it.”
“Tank will be thrilled to know he’s got so many people on his side, if he ever has the backbone to show up, that is. I guess I’ll just go find some paperwork to fill out. Maybe I can issue some parking tickets. Let me know how it all turns out when you solve the case, huh?” Torrey whirled on his heel and stalked off.
“I apologize for him.” Patricia sighed. “He’s under a lot of pressure about Lance. I mean, he’s already gone through it once, like he said, and watched his wife die. Alcoholism runs in his family on the paternal side. He’s been sober for twenty years, but it kills him to see Lance turn into an alcoholic, too. He and Lance have never gotten along, but Lance and Sadie are all the family he’s got. Max would do anything for Sadie.”
“Tough situation.”
“Yes.” She gazed in the direction he’d gone. “People will do whatever it takes for their children, you know? I would for my Elizabeth, if she were still alive.”
Dan saw the wealth of sadness in Patricia’s eyes. What had it cost her to lose her daughter? Her only child.
Angela must have seen the same thing. “We’re very sorry that Lance is ill. I apologize if we’ve made the situation more difficult for you or the lieutenant.”
She shrugged. “We’ll make it through. I’ve got to get back to work now.”
Dan led Angela back to the elevator, his thoughts churning.
She watched him. “What are you thinking?”
“Ralph just happened to be on the third floor asking Patricia Lane for a lunch handout? He didn’t go to the cafeteria or help himself to the free coffee in the lobby?”
“Unlikely story, I agree.”
“But why would she lie?”
As they stepped off the elevator, Angela’s phone rang. They went outside, away from the building, and she put it on speakerphone.
“Betty Hernandez reportedly lives in an apartment in Tijuana,” Marco said. “We’ve got an address and phone for her, so we’re following up on that, but so far there’s no answer. Oliver Clark is dead, car wreck, three months ago, in Mexico.”
She told him about Ralph Pickford and their conversation with Patricia Lane and Lieutenant Torrey.
“Going to catch a flight to Tijuana right now. Be back by tonight. Can you two stay out of trouble until we get back?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why is that hard for me to believe?”
“We’re going to work on finding Ralph Pickford’s whereabouts,” Dan put in.
“Even though Torrey is pitching a fit?”
Dan shrugged. “We will stay out of his way.”
“And we will talk to Mrs. Guzman, too,” Angela said quietly.
“We may just be chasing our tails here,” Marco said. “We’ve got nothing solid. You really think these names Guzman gave us mean anything?”
“I don’t know,” he said as Angela clicked off.
But he felt an urgent need to find out.
* * *
Lila Brown did not answer her cell phone. Again. Angela put down the phone in frustration. “And she’s not at the clinic, either, or at least she’s not answering. What do we do now?”
Dan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I believe it’s time to get some hot dogs.”
Angela checked her watch. “It’s only eleven. It’s not lunchtime.”
“It’s always the right time for some information.”
“Oh, I see. I should have thought of that.”
He drove back to the beach, and once again they approached Bill, the hot dog vendor.
“I’m looking for someone,” Dan said. “Guy named Ralph Pickford. Know him?”
“Sure, Doc Man. He’s a regular. Lives on the beach when it’s warm.”
“And when it’s not?”
Bill served up two hot dogs. “Whatcha going to do to him?”
“Just ask him some questions and maybe buy him a hot dog.”
Bill seemed satisfied. “Abandoned pumping station. It’s dry in some places. No one bothers him down there.”
“Can you tell me where to find it?” Dan said.
“All boarded up, but you can get to it same way Bill does.”
“How’s that?”
“Right up the beach. Find the cement runoff pipe.” He looked over the top of his half glasses. “Ralph’s a popular guy these days.”
“How’s that?”
“You weren’t the only folks looking for him today.”
“Who else?”
“Young lady. Headed up there about a half hour ago.”
Angela sucked in a breath. “Dark hair? Brown eyes?”
He nodded. “Ralph sure does have the charm, doesn’t he? All this attention.”
Angela shot a look at Dan as they walked away. Ralph had something. She hoped it was answers.
“Has to be Lila,” Dan said, staring up the beach. “I’m going to go see.”
“I’m right behind you.”
He stopped. “At the risk of being told off again, Marco doesn’t want you prancing around in abandoned pumping stations, and he’s right.”
“I’ve been in far worse places.” His gray eyes met hers. So had he. With bullets and death and suffering.
He opened his mouth, but she reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. “I’ll leave a message on Marco’s phone and tell him what we’re up to. I can do the same for Torrey, if you feel like that’s a good idea.”
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and he took hold of her fingers, guiding them over his cheek. The feel of his warm skin on her palm sent tingles through her body. Finally he pressed a kiss to her palm.
“I don’t know who to trust, and that’s what worries me. This reminds me of Kandahar. Hard to tell the enemies from the friendlies.”
She lingered in his grasp for a moment more. What comfort to be connected to a man she realized was much more than a friend. Her own thoughts surprised her. More than a friend?
No. She pulled away. She was here not for emotional entanglements, which would cripple her further, but to do whatever she could to help Julio’s brother.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “I’ll send a message to Jeb about what we’re doing. He can be our local safety net and call for help in a couple of hours if he doesn’t hear from us. We’ll leave Torrey out of it for the moment. And I’ll grab a flashlight from the car.”
“Okay.”
She was grateful when he turned away to message Jeb, taking the time to try to calm her thoughts. Her palm still tingled from the kiss he’d placed there. Find Tank and go home. But what waited for her back in Coronado? Still the same crippling memories, a job she could not do, a God she could no longer reach.
“Ready?” she said brightly when he disconnected.
“Let’s go make like detectives,” he said. “You can be Watson.”
“Uh-uh,” she said. “You’re the doctor, after all.”
“Right you are, Sherlock,” he said.
Sand infiltrated her shoes as they hiked a mile up the beach, past bodyboarders who did not seem to mind the chilly January temperatures. The morning was giving way to afternoon. Except for the occasional beachcomber, they were alone as they arrived at a crescent-shaped section of cliff.
“There,” Dan said, pointing.
She’d almost missed it. A thick cement pipe jutted from the rock, some six feet wide, nearly hidden by a screen of bushes. The water did not reach the pipe, but the bottom was damp, probably from last night’s storm.
“You think Ralph is in there?” She suppressed a shudder as Dan shone his flashlight into the mouth of the pipe.
“It would make a good shelter from the elements and probably not too much trouble with people dropping by.” He ducked his head and ventured in a little farther. “Be right back.” The shadows swallowed him up, as if he were being devoured by an enormous snake.
She steeled her shoulders, steadied her trembling knees. “Come on, Angela. You used to go caving with Dad all the time. Get yourself together and move out.” After a deep breath, she ducked into the darkness right behind him.