Читать книгу Covert Cargo - Elisabeth Rees - Страница 11

TWO

Beth felt helpless. She had been sitting in the waiting room of the vet’s office for two hours. She looked around the room, with its bright strip light shining on the metal chairs and coffee table, piled high with various pet animal magazines. Before buying the lighthouse and changing professions, she had been a real estate agent and had shown the young vet, a red-haired man named Henry Stanton, around the building several years ago. He had purchased the property, set up his practice and the rest was history. And now that same man was trying to save the life of her beloved dog.

Dillon sat opposite, flicking through a back issue of Dog News. He had insisted on staying with her, despite her protests. She was grateful for his help, but she didn’t want to spend time alone with him. She felt awkward in a man’s company. She’d gotten too used to her solitary lifestyle. Dillon seemed to read her mood perfectly, and he stayed quiet, occasionally taking a whispered phone call in the corner. She knew he wanted to quiz her about the man she had seen on the Jet Ski in the bay, but for now he kept his questions to himself. Various customers from the town had come and gone, bringing a range of animals, but now the waiting room was empty and the receptionist on a break. The silence lay heavily in the air, loaded with anxiety and unanswered questions. All the while, Beth was conscious of the bulk of the stone in her jacket, weighing down her pocket and her mind in equal measure.

The vet entered the waiting room and sat down on a chair. He had a smile on his face, and Beth’s heart lifted with relief. Henry wouldn’t be smiling if the news were bad.

“Ted is fine,” Henry said. “But he’ll need to stay in for observation, probably no more than a day or two. He suffered a wound to his liver and I want to make sure he doesn’t have an infection.” He looked between her and Dillon. “Is this okay with you both?”

Beth suddenly realized that Henry thought she and Dillon were romantically involved. She considered explaining the situation but decided against it. It was too complicated.

“Can I see him?” she asked.

“Ted is highly sedated at the moment,” Henry replied. “If he sees you, he may get overexcited and try to stand. It’s best that you leave a visit until tomorrow.”

Beth felt her shoulders sagging. The thought of returning to the lighthouse without Ted was horrible, but it was made worse by the fact that she couldn’t even see him.

Dillon noticed her sadness and stepped into the conversation. “Thank you for all your help, Dr. Stanton,” he said, rising. “We’ll come back tomorrow and see how Ted’s doing.”

The vet stood also, and the two men shook hands. “Please call me Henry,” he said. Then he looked at Beth. “And can I say how pleased I am to see you, Beth? It’s been too long.”

She forced a smile. She was too ashamed to admit that she normally used the veterinarian who lived in the next town, but she guessed that Henry already knew. Nobody could keep any secrets in a town like Bracelet Bay. She stood, pulling her long sweater down to cover the bloodstains on her jeans. She thanked Henry and headed for the door.

A light rain was falling outside and the temperature of the earlier sunny day had dropped away. Beth pulled up the hood on her raincoat and felt the painted stone hanging in the pocket. Dillon stayed by her side, his face a picture of tension. The air seemed to feel different, as though particles of fear itself were being swept on the wind over the water. Ted’s stabbing had struck deep into her psyche. She was too numb to even cry.

“This incident changes everything,” Dillon said, standing so close that she could see his curly hair collecting tiny droplets of water, as delicate as a spider’s web. “You can’t be alone at your lighthouse anymore.”

Beth took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s something else you need to know,” she said, curling her fingers around the stone hidden beneath her coat. “Ted found something on the beach this morning.”

His eyes widened and he steered her toward the truck, checking their surroundings before bringing his attention back on her. “What?”

Beth slowly pulled the smooth stone from her pocket and held it in a flat palm. The skeletal figure seemed to have become even more sinister, even more ominous since she had last looked.

Dillon took the pebble and studied it hard, his eyebrows crinkling in concentration. “This is Santa Muerte,” he said finally. The way he said the words struck dread into Beth’s heart. His tone was grave.

“Who is Santa Muerte?” she asked. “And what does this mean?”

Dillon seemed reluctant to answer, and Beth’s heart began to hammer. “Ted found it on the dunes right by my house,” she said. “I think it may have been left there by the man on the Jet Ski in the bay.” She looked up into his face. “If you know what it is, please tell me.”

He swallowed hard. “Santa Muerte is a saint worshipped in some parts of Mexico, where she is also known as Our Lady of the Holy Death.”

Beth clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. The mention of death was chilling. The significance of this find was worse than she’d thought.

Dillon opened the truck door and gently guided Beth onto the passenger seat, but he remained standing in the lot, his outstretched arm resting on the open door as though he were holding a shield. “Santa Muerte is particularly revered among Mexican drug cartels, who pray to her for protection, for guidance and to grant them a painless death. People also sometimes ask her to grant them success in eliminating targets.” He looked down at the stone. “They often perform a ritual to Santa Muerte when a target has been identified.”

“Is this a ritual?” Beth asked, unable to keep her eyes off the bony image staring up at her from Dillon’s hand. “I’m the target, aren’t I? That’s why the stone was placed by my home. They want to eliminate me.” She realized that her voice was becoming quick and breathless, so she tried to steady it. “The cartel wants me dead, right?”

Dillon said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.

“Why me?” she asked, rubbing her moist palms on her jeans. “What did I do?”

Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know. Not yet anyway. But I’ll need to assign you protection.” He held up the bright stone. “This is too serious to ignore.”

Beth thought of her tranquil little cottage, cramped with people allotted to look after her. She and Ted had gotten used to a quiet life. Could she handle the intrusion of others sharing her space? But she knew that Dillon was right. This ritual to Santa Muerte was far too serious to ignore. She turned her head to look over the ocean.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Who would be staying with me?”

“I have a friend—Tyler Beck—and I’ve already put in a request to transfer him into the Bracelet Bay Station to assist us with some duties. He’s a surveillance expert working for the Department of Homeland Security on the East Coast. If you’ll allow us to create a lookout post in your lighthouse tower, Tyler and I will set up home there until the cartel members are in custody and no longer a threat to you.”

“You do realize how small the lighthouse tower is, right?” Beth asked. She imagined two big men bedding down for the night in the tightly curved space, dominated by the huge lenses of the disused beacon. “It’ll be a really tight squeeze.”

Dillon smiled. “Tyler and I have worked plenty of missions in the past where space was limited. We’ll manage just fine.”

“Missions?” she questioned. “You make it sound like a military operation.”

“The coast guard is a branch of the US armed forces,” he replied. “Not many people realize that we are part of the military. The coast guard is trained in reconnaissance, search and rescue, maritime law enforcement and many more things besides. And these are all very good reasons why you should place your trust in us to keep you safe.”

Beth rubbed her hands together, creating friction to keep them warm in her lap. Dillon’s words and tone sounded formal, and they made her feel even more ill at ease. Her safety seemed like a military mission to be accomplished, and the severity of her situation had hit home.

“So you and Tyler would be with me twenty-four hours a day?” she asked.

“I’ll be continuing to work at the station during the day while staying at the lighthouse during the night,” he answered. “Tyler will take the lead in providing protection for you.” He must have noticed a look of disappointment sweep over her face. “Tyler is a highly trained individual. You can rely on him.”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s just that I kind of figured you would take charge of things.” She felt awkward and uncomfortable asking him to take the lead, but if she must accept somebody being responsible for her safety, she would at least prefer it was someone she was already on a first-name basis with. And although she didn’t want to admit it, he radiated a strength that reassured her. She felt secure with him.

Dillon kept his fingers gripped firmly around the painted pebble as he spoke. His face had lost the previous expression of concern and was replaced by one of detachment. “I’m afraid it’s not possible for me to take my focus away from my job and put it onto you. I’ll do whatever I can to assist Tyler, but I need to keep my sights elsewhere.” He cast his gaze out over the ocean as if to emphasize his point. “I can’t afford to let myself be sidetracked.”

Beth watched Dillon’s eyes scan the ocean, darting back and forth across the waves. He always seemed to be searching the sea, permanently on the lookout. His awareness was constantly heightened, and she wondered whether his single-minded focus was the reason he’d been given the top job at the coast guard station. He had an important smuggling assignment to oversee, and her situation must be like a thorn in his side. She suddenly saw herself as he did: as a nuisance and a distraction. It made her defensive streak rush to the surface and prickle her skin.

“I’ve been managing by myself for five years,” she said, crossing her arms. “Once Ted has recovered from his surgery, I’m sure we’ll be able to cope alone. I really don’t want to divert resources from your day job.”

He clearly guessed he had hit a nerve. He took his eyes away from the ocean and settled them on her. “Ensuring your safety is as important as any task I need to accomplish in my day job, but I can’t take personal responsibility for protecting you.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

She looked him full in the face. She figured he was casting her off with excuses, trying to make her feel better about being such a drain on his brand-new job as station chief. She also knew that all her insecurities about being a burden shouldn’t be laid at his feet. They had been stored up nice and tight for a long time.

“One thing I’ve learned over the years,” she said, “is that things are always complicated.”

He leaned in close to her on the passenger seat. “I know that you’re an independent woman who’s going to struggle to adapt to a couple of big men lumbering around your little lighthouse like giants.” She smiled in spite of her swirling emotions. “And I also know that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself under normal circumstances,” he continued. He uncurled his fingers from the stone and held it in his palm. “But these are not normal circumstances. Although I won’t be the person taking overall responsibility for your security, I will make absolutely sure that nothing bad happens to you.” He laid a hand over hers. “You deserve all the resources we have, and you’re worth the effort. You should know that.”

His words almost took her breath away. Had he been able to guess that she saw herself as worthless? That she felt of little value to anyone? Had he seen through the air of confidence she had created to hide the pain of being publicly rejected?

She finally found her voice after being stunned into temporary silence. “When would you want to move into the tower?”

“Tyler should be here tomorrow evening, so for tonight it’ll be just me staying with you.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get back to the lighthouse so I can measure the tower room for equipment. I’ll have Carl deliver it later on.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Beth desperately wanted to know when the acid taste of fear would leave her mouth and when she could return to her normal life again. “How close are you to catching these cartel guys?”

Dillon pressed his palms together and brought them to his face with a sigh. Before he could give an answer, a crashing sound cut through the air, carried from the open kitchen door of the Salty Dog, which could easily be seen from the high vantage point of the vet’s parking lot. The noise was quickly followed by angry, raised voices and the banging thuds of a brawl. Dillon took Beth’s hand.

“I should go check that out,” he said, pulling her from the seat, close to his side. “But don’t leave my sight, whatever you do.”

Beth glanced over to the Salty Dog, the last place on earth she wanted to go. But she steeled herself, took a deep breath and allowed Dillon to lead the way.

* * *

The restaurant was busy, yet nobody was prepared to step in and separate the two fiercely fighting men, seemingly fused together in a ball of flailing arms and legs. One of the men was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. And the other guy was taller, leaner and fitter, wearing navy blue clothes exactly like Dillon’s.

“It’s Larry!” Dillon exclaimed, guiding Beth to stand by the wall out of range of the ruckus.

“The other guy is Kevin,” Beth said, wide-eyed. “He owns the place. He and Larry are brothers.”

Dillon pressed her against the wall. “They sure don’t seem to be feeling any brotherly love right now. Stay here while I pull them apart.”

He approached the men with a barking order. “Break it up, guys. That’s enough.”

Neither man made any attempt to stop brawling, so Dillon was forced to grab Larry by the collar and yank him away sharply. Larry continued to throw wild punches and kick the air, forcing Dillon to place him in an armlock. Larry cried out but immediately stilled under the firm grip of his superior. Dillon pushed the subdued man to an empty chair and made him sit while his brother hauled himself to his feet with a groan.

Dillon quickly checked that Beth was still standing against the wall. She had wrapped her arms around her waist and bowed her head as if trying to hide away. But nobody’s attention was on her anyway—it was on the two breathless men glowering at each other with wild, dark eyes. The explosion of violence was jarring against the family-oriented restaurant, busy with people enjoying a quiet lunch. This was definitely not the kind of place where brawling was commonplace.

“Okay, everyone,” Dillon called out to the crowd of onlookers while righting some upended chairs. “Show’s over, folks. You can all get back to your meals and eat in peace.”

Amid murmurings and mutterings, the diners gradually pulled their gazes away and resumed their lunches, while Larry and Kevin regained their composure and breath.

“Now,” Dillon said, looking between the pair. “I understand that you two are brothers. So what on earth has turned you into enemies?”

Neither man spoke. A tall, dark-haired woman stepped out from behind the serving counter. “Larry came bursting in here about five minutes ago,” she said, “and he was mad as a hornet at Kevin. I’ve never seen them fight like that before.”

“And who might you be, ma’am?” Dillon asked.

“I’m Mia,” the woman replied. “Mia Wride-Ford. I’m a waitress here.” She looked around the restaurant, and Dillon noticed her do a double take on seeing Beth standing just a few feet away. She turned and smiled at Beth, giving her a small wave. Beth raised a weak smile in response, obviously embarrassed to be in public view.

“And what was the argument about?” Dillon addressed the question to nobody in particular, hoping that someone would give a straight answer.

“You know Larry,” Kevin replied, straightening out his rumpled clothes. “He’s always got a beef about something. He’s a loose cannon.”

“I’m a loose cannon?” Larry said, widening his eyes and letting out a snort. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You had no right coming in here, shooting your mouth like that. If we weren’t family, I’d call the police and have you arrested for assault.”

Larry rose to his feet and, in a theatrical gesture, pointed to a pay phone attached to a wall. “Go right ahead, Kevin, call the police and file a report.” He crossed his arms. “I won’t stand in your way.”

Kevin stood for a few seconds, hands on hips, looking between Larry and the pay phone.

“Would you like to report this matter to the local sheriff?” Dillon asked. “If Larry attacked you without provocation, you have a roomful of witnesses to back up your story.”

Kevin bent over and rested his hands on his knees like a deflating balloon. “No. There’s no need to involve the police. We’re family. We’ll deal with it our own way.”

Larry began to walk to the door. “If it’s all right with you, Captain, I’ll get back to the station.”

“Sit down, Larry,” Dillon ordered. “I want some answers from you before you go anywhere.”

Larry stopped and cast a sly eye over to Beth, who had partially hidden herself behind the large wooden menu that stood by the front door. Dillon guessed that the next words out of Larry’s mouth would be mean. He was right.

“Well, I figured that you’d want to get back to your date,” Larry said with a curled lip. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Looks like somebody managed to thaw the ice queen.”

Dillon rested his hands on the waistband of his pants. “What did you just say?”

Larry shrugged. “Nothing, sir.”

Dillon walked to within a couple of inches of Larry and pulled himself up to full height. “You’re sailing very close to the wind, Chief Petty Officer Chapman,” he said in a low voice. “I expect a better standard of behavior from an officer of the coast guard. Get yourself back to the station and I’ll deal with you later.”

Larry saluted, spun on his heel and strode from the restaurant.

The door leading to the kitchen then swung open and a petite blonde woman came out. “Has Larry left?” she asked, darting her eyes around.

Kevin put his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, he’s gone and good riddance to him.” He turned to Dillon and held out his hand. “I’m Kevin Chapman, owner of the Salty Dog, and this is my wife, Paula. I’m guessing you’re Dillon Randall, the new coast guard captain.”

Dillon shook Kevin’s hand and smiled warmly at Paula. “That’s right. I’m pleased to meet you both. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

“I’m so sorry for the trouble, Captain Randall,” Paula said. “It’s normally really quiet and peaceful in here.”

Dillon looked around the restaurant. The nautical theme was a little overwhelming. There were fishing nets, helms and plastic crabs attached to the wooden walls and overhead beams. Even the tablecloths had anchors on them, and the salt and pepper shakers were tiny fisherman.

“Yeah,” he said. “This isn’t the kind of place I’d normally expect to break up a fight.” He turned his attention from Paula to Kevin. “Are you ready to explain to me what that was all about?”

Kevin rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Larry’s a hothead. It was nothing. Just a stupid argument about nothing.” He pointed to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get back to my stove.” He gave himself one final brush down, as if dusting off his brother’s fingerprints, and walked through the swinging door, sending the aroma of garlic and herbs blowing into Dillon’s face.

Paula smiled nervously. “Thanks for dealing with those two, Captain Randall. Would you like some lunch on the house? It’s the least we can do.”

“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Chapman,” he replied. “But I’ve got some business to attend to. I’ll come back another time.”

“Please do,” she said. “We don’t want to leave you with a bad impression of the town.” As she walked back into the kitchen, she turned her head and said, “Welcome to Bracelet Bay, by the way. Mia would be happy to give you a coffee to take out if you don’t have time to stay.”

The waitress smiled and picked up a paper cup from the counter. “Decaf or regular?”

“Regular please,” he said. “But you’d better make it two.”

“Is the other one for Beth?” she asked. “It’s so good to see her in town again.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s been years since I last talked to her.” She looked behind Dillon’s shoulder to the front door where Dillon assumed Beth was still waiting for him. “I wish she’d stuck around to say hello.”

Dillon spun around. Beth was gone!

He swiveled back to face the waitress. “Where did she go?”

Mia pointed to the door. “She left right before Larry. She looked a little hurt by what he said.”

Suddenly a flashback struck Dillon. He remembered Aziza wandering alone in the desert, at the mercy of those who wanted to harm her.

“I gotta go,” he said, racing for the door, hearing Mia calling after him, “You forgot your coffee!”

He burst out onto the street. He saw Larry ambling back to the station, but no sign of Beth. How could she have been so stupid to have left without him? He had expressly warned her to stay close. The stone in his pocket jumped around with his movement, reminding him of the level of danger she was facing.

He ran to his truck in the vet’s parking lot and his heart leaped with relief on seeing her standing by the passenger door. He found it difficult to contain his frustration when he reached her side.

“You shouldn’t have run out on me. You can’t go taking risks like that.” He heard the harshness in his voice and tried to soften it. “Anybody could be lying in wait for you.” He quickly checked their vicinity as if his words might be proven correct.

Then he unlocked the truck and opened the passenger door for her. “I’d feel a lot safer if you weren’t out in the open. Get in and I’ll take you home.”

Once they were both settled in their seats, Dillon started up the engine and pulled out onto the quiet street that ran through the town. Bracelet Bay’s location, a couple of miles from Highway One, put it off the beaten track, and it retained a quaintness that had surprised him. He loved the way the narrow, winding streets of the town’s center suddenly opened up onto a wide road that ran alongside a vast and crystal-clear ocean. The sandblasted, weathered houses in varying pastel shades reminded him of picture postcards, and the seven hundred or so residents were fortunate to live in such idyllic surroundings. Yet he guessed that, at this moment in time, Beth felt anything but fortunate to be among the Bracelet Bay inhabitants. She was silent, staring into the distance through the windshield, lost in her thoughts.

“I apologize if I was a little hard on you back there,” he said, glancing over at her. “But I wanted you to understand how serious it is for you to put yourself at risk.”

Her voice was small. “I heard Larry call me the ice queen, and I just had to get away. I’m sorry.”

Dillon clenched his jaw. “I’ll be speaking to Larry about that. I won’t stand for bullying on my watch.”

“I don’t expect you to step in and defend me,” she said. “You don’t want to make yourself unpopular when you’ve only just arrived in town.”

“I don’t much care for popularity contests,” he said. “I prefer to do what’s right instead.”

Beth twisted in her seat to look at the town that was now stretching into the distance as they made their way to the lighthouse. “It was hard being back in the Salty Dog,” she said. “I guessed I might get a nasty reaction like that from somebody.”

“Don’t let Larry’s childish comment get to you.” Dillon remembered the waitress and her kindness. “There was a young woman in there named Mia who was pretty happy to see you. Is she an old friend of yours?”

Beth nodded. “She was my bridesmaid.” She tried to laugh, but the sound seemed to get stuck in her throat. “Or she was supposed to be my bridesmaid anyway. It turned out that she wasn’t really needed.” Her voice became high and strained. “Actually it turned out that I wasn’t really needed either.”

Dillon wasn’t sure what to say. “I know about your wedding,” he said gently. “Carl mentioned it.”

Beth let her head fall back onto the headrest with a long exhalation. “I’m sure he did.”

“From what I’ve seen and heard in the town, everybody wishes you well,” Dillon said, switching on the wipers as the light drizzle became heavier. A dense and moist fog often rolled into the town, and the damp air clung to everything it came into contact with. The air in this town seemed to brush gently against the skin like a caress, and he liked it. He reckoned that Bracelet Bay was a place that worked its way into your heart and took up residence pretty quickly.

“Mia was sorry that she didn’t get to talk to you today,” he continued. “Once this situation is behind you, maybe you should think about contacting her.” He smiled, unsure if he was overstepping. “She clearly misses you.”

Beth looked out the window. “I miss her too sometimes, but my life is different now. I’m happier this way.”

“As a recluse?”

She didn’t answer.

“No man is an island, Beth.”

She turned her head from the window to face him. “What does that mean?”

“It’s an old poem from England,” he said, quoting the lines, “‘No man is an island entire of itself. Every man is a piece of the continent.’”

“I never knew you were so cultured,” she said in a teasing tone. “But I still don’t know what it means.”

The truck hugged the shoulder of the road as they neared the lighthouse, shrouded in swirling fog. “It means that we all need connections to others to make us strong and healthy. God made us as individuals, but that doesn’t mean He intended us to be alone.”

The teasing tone disappeared from her voice. “I don’t know what God intends for me, but right now I’m happy alone.”

He knew this wasn’t true. He knew it was an act, perfected in order to push people away and bolster her lack of confidence. But if that was her choice, he wouldn’t push the matter.

“If you’re happy to put your faith in God’s path,” he said, “then you can’t go wrong.”

She smiled, and the way she tilted her head to brush hair from her neck reminded him of Aziza. It was just a flash of something, a split second of familiarity that transported him back four years to a hot and arid plain in Afghanistan. At that time, he was driving along a dusty road to Kabul with a young woman escaping certain death. And now he was back in the same situation, forced to choose which innocent lives to save. As soon as Tyler arrived, he would relinquish Beth’s safety to his good friend and fellow SEAL. Then he could get back to work.

As the truck neared Beth’s home, Dillon saw that the fog surrounding it appeared thicker than before, curling around the tower like smoke. When an acrid smell began filling his nostrils, he realized that it was smoke.

“I think we may have a problem,” he said, hitting the gas pedal hard to pick up speed.

Beth placed her hands on the dash, leaning forward and letting her mouth drop open in confusion and disbelief.

“My cottage,” she exclaimed. “It’s on fire!”