Читать книгу Flood Zone - Dana Mentink - Страница 12

THREE

Sleep eluded Mia. Though she felt like throwing herself on the floor and sobbing at the loss of her dear friend, she would not allow Gracie to witness such an outburst. The best thing she could offer now was a heavy dose of mothering in between scouring the want ads and internet sites for employment opportunities. A breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast cut into a heart shape, and a half dozen stories later, and Gracie was content to go into the soggy backyard and hunt for snails. Unless the snails had teeny scuba suits, Mia didn’t think she’d have much luck.

She sat on the couch and considered the facts.

The little house they now occupied was rented. Cora had helped her find the place, and though she received a settlement when she divorced Hector, she steadfastly refused to take any child-support money. Dr. Elias was right. Hector Sandoval was involved in the drug trade, and she did not want a single penny of tainted money to find its way to Gracie.

Hector claimed in every letter that he’d repented, but she did not believe him or any other man for that matter. The most important person in her life was Gracie, and Mia would not fail her. So how could she tell her daughter about Cora? Images of the fire raced through her memory, especially the moment when the red-haired woman had appeared through the smoke. Whoever she was, she had answers. Hopefully, the police chief could help ferret out the truth, though he’d not been able to grant her an audience until the following day. Dallas had advised her to bypass Stiving, and she’d agreed. It was best to talk to the chief. For now, the picture was tucked safely in an envelope in the back of the top desk drawer.

The doorbell rang.

Tina stepped inside, chewing madly on a piece of pink gum with a stack of books under her arm to be perused during Gracie’s nap time. Mia greeted her warmly. The stick-thin college sophomore babysat for Mia during the day and took community classes at night. Since Mia’s nursing school was off due to a semester break, she’d been logging as many hours at Dr. Elias’s clinic as she could and Tina had been invaluable. The two exchanged a quiet talk about Cora’s death, news of which had already spread all over the quiet mountain community.

“Have you told her yet?” Tina asked, discarding her gum into a wrapper and snatching a leftover piece of toast.

“No.” Mia sighed, eyes misting. “I haven’t had the courage.”

Tina gave her a hug which almost loosed the flood gates of emotion until Mia stepped back. “I’m glad you could come today. I’ve got to find another job.”

“Yeah? What happened to the gig at the clinic?”

“I was...let go last night.”

Tina swallowed the last bit of toast. “Oh, bummer. What are you going to do now?”

“Go into town and beat the bushes if I have to. Anything to make the rent.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Mia nodded. “There’s got to be somebody looking for a hard-working gal like me.”

“We are women, hear us roar,” Tina cried, pumping a fist. “Go get ’em!”

Wishing she could share some of Tina’s enthusiasm, she grabbed her bag. After they’d made arrangements for Tina to deliver Gracie to Mia in the late afternoon, she headed for the car.

“Time to hit it,” she murmured to herself. “Hear me roar.”

Fearing that her roar was more like a pitiful mew at the moment, she headed to town.

* * *

After a full day of walking the main streets of Spanish Canyon, Mia had nothing to show for it but sore feet and a rumbling belly. She’d already gobbled her peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich, and at a little past three, her stomach was demanding attention, as it seemed to do no matter what diet she was doing her best to adhere to. Besides, a sign on Sam’s Sammies advertised for “help wanted.”

I’m a master of the peanut butter and fluff, she reminded herself as she entered and introduced herself to the owner.

Sam Shepherd, a massive man with sprigs of white hair sprouting from the top of his head met her inquiry with enthusiasm. “Sure thing. Why don’t you fill out an application?” He pushed over a greasy piece of paper affixed to a clipboard. “Say, I was sure sorry to hear about Cora.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

“You know her well?”

Mia only managed a quick yes.

He raised a bristly eyebrow. “Heard talk that it wasn’t an accident.”

She hadn’t noticed Detective Stiving sitting in the corner booth until he spoke up. “Looking more and more like that’s the case,” he said.

A moment later, Dallas strolled in, surveying the group with quiet amusement and causing Mia to wonder about the timing.

“Well, Sam, seems like business is picking up,” Dallas said.

Stiving chewed a pickle spear. “What do you want?”

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.

“I’m hungry,” Gracie announced as they pulled into the garage.

“How can you be hungry when you ate two scoops of ice cream?”

Gracie twisted a strand of hair while she thought about it. “Dunno, but I am.”

“Mac and cheese?”

The little girl nodded as she helped Mia unbuckle her car seat straps.

Mia mentally inventoried the pantry cupboard, hard to keep stocked with a voracious babysitter and child. Fortunately, there was one box left of nature’s most perfect food. She helped Gracie from the car and hit the button to close the garage door.

Mia noted the interior door was unlocked, probably because Tina simply could not be induced to lock it. Mia sighed. Oh, to be an innocent eighteen-year-old again. Gracie pulled out her step stool and disappeared into the pantry.

Suddenly, the burdens of the day crashed in on Mia and she felt much older than her twenty-eight years. And why shouldn’t she as the ex-wife of a drug runner and now the object of suspicion for her friend’s death? Murder, murder, the word crawled through her mind. Tears threatened, but she would not allow them, not for a moment. Mothers did not have the luxury of folding up like tents. A shower. A quick five minute shower would wash off the grime from the day.

Hanging her purse on the kitchen hook and plugging in her cell phone to charge, she headed for the bedroom, removing her jacket. Finger poised on the light switch, she froze. A shadow was silhouetted in front of the window, just for a second before it slithered behind the cover of the drapes. Someone was in her bedroom.

Fear rushed hot into her gut, firing her nerves as she ran down the hallway. Behind her she could hear the swish of fabric as the intruder detached from the curtains. Feet thudded across the carpeted floor, her own clattering madly on the wood planked hallway as she raced for the kitchen, sweeping up her purse and grabbing Gracie who was shaking the box of macaroni and singing.

She seized her daughter with such force she heard the breath whoosh out of her, but Mia paid no heed. The man was in the hallway now, only a few feet behind her. Mia burst into the garage, hit the button and dove into the driver’s side, shoving Gracie over onto the passenger seat and cranking the ignition.

The interior garage door opened, and the man appeared—thin, white, crew cut. She saw him reach for the button to stop the door from opening. She would be trapped, she and Gracie, at the mercy of this stranger.

No, she thought savagely, flipping the brights on. He flinched, throwing a hand over his eyes. The door was nearly half open now. Only a few more inches and she could get out.

Terror squeezed her insides as she saw him recover and reach for the button again.

Hurry, hurry, she commanded the groaning metal gears.

This time when he reached for the button, he succeeded and the door stopped its upward progress.

He pressed it again and it began to slide down, sealing off their escape.