PRIME SUSPECT

Mia Sandoval’s friend is murdered under mysterious circumstances—and the single mother is a suspect. Her only ally is a man she isn’t sure she can trust. Search and rescue worker Dallas Black has a past as harrowing as Mia’s own, and the police are suspicious of them both. With no choice but to work with secretive Dallas, Mia discovers he’s as complicated as the murder they’re forced to investigate to clear her name. Yet as a flood ravages their small Colorado town, a killer is determined that Mia, Dallas and their evidence get swept away to a watery grave.

Stormswept: Finding true love in the midst of nature’s fury

Hands shaking, Mia sprayed the water vigorously, but there was simply not enough flow to combat the hungry fire.

She retreated to the front porch, skin stinging from the poisonous air.

Dallas appeared at the upstairs window. He shouted something to Mia, but she could not understand. The fire was nearly upon her, heat scalded her face and hands, smoke filling her lungs. She backed farther away, praying the fire engine would arrive soon to douse the flames.

Finally, Dallas came out carrying Cora and led her away from the burning house.

Mia put her mouth to the woman’s cheek, praying for a reassuring puff of air. Panic swirled through her veins as she felt nothing at all. Starting CPR, she pressed her hands to Cora’s chest.

“Come on, Cora,” she said. “You’re not going to leave me now.”

Dallas dropped to his knees and performed the rescue breaths at the end of her compression cycles. After a full minute, Dallas checked her pulse.

He shook his head.

Tears trickled down Mia’s cheeks as she began the next cycle.

DANA MENTINK

is an award-winning author of Christian fiction. Her novel Betrayal in the Badlands won a 2010 RT Reviewer’s Choice Award, and she was pleased to win the 2013 Carol Award for Lost Legacy. She has authored more than a dozen Love Inspired Suspense novels. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her via her website at www.danamentink.com.

Flood Zone

Dana Mentink

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Trust in the Lord with all your heart;

do not depend on your own understanding.

Seek his will in all you do,

and he will show you which path to take.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

To my Mike, who is always there through the floods.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dear Reader,

Extract

ONE

Forget meeting tonight. Must speak to you and Dallas now. URGENT.

Mia risked another peek at the cell phone screen as she guided her battered Toyota up the steep mountain grade to Cora’s country house just after six in the evening. She’d thought Cora’s proposed after-hours meeting at the medical clinic where they both worked was odd in the first place. Now the message to cancel. Stranger still. But Cora had been acting oddly, excusing herself to take phone calls, peeping into file folders squirreled away in her desk for weeks. On this particular day, Cora had left at lunch time. Strange.

Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror. Dallas Black drove his truck behind her. Something about the tall, tousle-headed rebel made her stomach flip, no matter how sternly she chided herself.

Look what the last dark-eyed charmer did to you, Mia.

Stuffing that uncomfortable thought back down into the secret place where she kept all her worries, Mia focused on navigating the winding, wet road, finally pulling onto Cora’s graveled drive. Dallas got out, long and lean in jeans and a T-shirt, a couple of months overdue for a haircut. Somehow, the hair spidering across his face suited him, refusing to play nicely.

She knew he’d finished patching Cora’s roof only the day before, while on break from teaching Search and Rescue classes. He’d been there every weekend for the past month or two working when the rain let up. While Dallas banged on the roof, Mia and her young daughter, Gracie, helped Cora organize closets. Cora insisted the little group take a long dinner break together every evening during which even Juno, Dallas’s German Shepherd, got his share of fragrant stew. What Dallas got out of the deal, besides some pocket change and women chatter, she had no clue. Surely, he didn’t need the money that badly. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, Mia. Maybe, her suspicious heart echoed mockingly. Yeah, and maybe you were happy to see him every weekend just to admire his roofing skills. Never mind. They were almost done organizing closets, and then she could put Dallas safely out of her thoughts.

The residence was at the back of a large property, a good acre of shrubland screened it from the road. It was cool, the May rain puddling the already saturated ground. It was to be a bad storm season in Colorado, talk of floods coming. It made her long for Florida’s mild climate, but she’d never return there. Ever.

Juno hopped out, nose twitching.

“Stay out of the mud, dog,” Dallas advised.

Mia joined him.

“Ideas regarding what Cora needs to talk about?” he asked.

“No.” Mia shook her head. “She’s been secretive lately, spending extra hours at the clinic. I almost got the feeling she might be lying to me about something.”

They looked at Juno who had busied himself snuffling through the underbrush until he froze. Mia thought at first that he’d caught the scent of a bird or groundhog. Then she got it, too. The acrid tang of smoke as she took a few steps toward the house.

Dallas sprinted up the drive with Mia right behind him. They cleared the thickly clustered cottonwood trees in time to hear the whoosh of breaking glass when the lower story window exploded. Mia nearly skidded into him as the shards rained down on the muddy ground.

Her mind struggled to process what was happening. He gripped her arms, and she saw the tiny reflected flames burning in his chocolate irises. “Call for help. Keep Juno out.”

Mia’s hands shook so badly she could barely manage to hold on to both the phone and Juno’s collar. The dog was barking furiously, yanking against her restraining arm in an effort to get to his owner. Nearly eighty pounds of muscle, Juno was determined, and he definitely did not see her as the boss.

Frantically, she dialed the emergency number. Tears started in her eyes as she realized she was not getting a signal. The tall Colorado mountain peaks in the distance interfered. She would have to move and see if she could find another spot that would work. Dragging Juno with one hand, she made her way back toward the car. They’d only gotten about ten feet when Juno broke loose from her grasp and ran straight for the burning house.

“Juno, stop!” she yelled. The smoke was now roiling through the downstairs, and she’d lost sight of Dallas. There was no choice but to keep trying to find a place to make the call. Three times she tried before she got a signal.

“Please help,” she rasped. “Cora Graham’s house on Stick Pine Road is on fire.”

The dispatcher gave her a fifteen minute ETA.

Her heart sank. They could both be dead in fifteen minutes. She stowed the phone in her pocket and ran to the front porch where she remembered there was a hose Cora used to water her patches of brilliant snapdragons. The wood of the old house crackled violently, letting loose with a spark every now and then that burned little holes through the fabric of her jacket. One started to smolder, and she slapped a hand to snuff it out. Flames flashed out the first-floor windows. Juno barked furiously, dashing in helpless fits and starts, unsure how to get to his master.

She cranked the hose and squirted the water at the open front door. Where are you, Dallas? Inside, the flames had spread through the sitting room, enveloping the oak furniture in crackling orange and yellow. She climbed up the porch steps, dousing the wood with water and forcing her way into the entry, past the spurts of flame.

She sprayed the water vigorously, but there was simply not enough flow to combat the hungry fire. She retreated to the front porch, skin stinging from the poisonous air.

Dallas appeared at the upstairs window. He shouted something to Mia, but she could not understand. The fire was nearly upon her, heat scalded her face and hands, smoke filling her lungs. She backed farther away, praying the fire engine would arrive soon to douse the flames.

There was no welcoming wail of sirens.

She scanned the upper story and once again caught sight of Dallas. He was batting at the flaming curtains with a blanket. She saw a way she could help. Climbing a few feet up an ivy-covered trellis allowed her to stretch the hose far enough that she could train the water on the burning fabric. Dallas jerked in surprise and then disappeared back inside, returning a moment later with Cora in his arms and stepping onto the roof. Mia’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched Dallas walking on the precariously pitched shingles with his precious burden.

His feet skidded, and he fell on his back, somehow stopping his slide before he fell over the edge. Mia jumped off the trellis and cast the hose aside. “Here, lower her down to me.”

It was an awkward process, but Dallas managed to ease Cora low enough that Mia could grab her around the waist. Staggering under the weight, she tottered backwards until Dallas jumped down and they both carried Cora away from the burning house. Juno raced behind them to a flat spot of grass where they laid the old woman. Dallas ordered the dog to stay.

Mia brushed sooty hair away from Cora’s forehead. Her sparkling blue eyes were closed, her mouth, slack. She put her cheek to Cora’s mouth, praying for a reassuring puff of air. Panic swirled through her veins as she felt nothing at all. Starting CPR, she pressed her hands to Cora’s chest.

“Come on, Cora,” she said. “You’re not going to leave me now.”

Dallas dropped to his knees and performed the rescue breaths at the end of her compression cycles. After a full minute, Dallas checked her pulse.

He shook his head.

Tears trickled down Mia’s cheeks as she began the next cycle. “You haven’t finished learning Italian,” she said to Cora. “You’re only on lesson three, and that’s not going to be enough if you want to go to Rome.” Another set of compressions and rescue breaths.

This time she didn’t allow herself to look at Dallas. Cora was going to live. Shoulders aching she pressed with renewed vigor. “And your nephew is happily married in Seattle. He’s not going to want to come and take care of this sprawling old place, isn’t that what you always said, Cora?”

Sirens pierced the air and a fire truck appeared through the smoke, rumbling up the grade, followed by an ambulance. Mia did not slow her efforts.

“You wake up right now, do you hear me? I mean it. I told you over and over not to keep those silly scented candles in your bedroom. They did not keep away the mosquitos, no matter what you say. You wake up so I can chew you out properly.” Tears dripped from her face and cleared spots of black from Cora’s forehead.

The medics ran over, but stopped short when Juno barked at them until Dallas quieted him. They pushed forward, eyeing the big dog suspiciously, and edged Mia out of the way.

“I have to stay with her,” she pleaded.

Dallas drew her back, his voice oddly soft. “They’ve got it, Mia. Let them work.”

“But...”

He gently, but firmly, took her arm and moved her several yards distant from the paramedics.

She breathed in and out, forcing herself to stop crying. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeated, waving him away when he came close.

Dallas stood there, long muscled arms black with soot, the edges of his hair singed at the tips, looking at her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

Dallas didn’t answer.

“Please tell me.” She moved closer, the dark pools of his eyes not giving away anything.

Dallas considered. “I wasn’t sure what type of service dog Juno would be. Before I trained him in Search and Rescue, a buddy of mine had a go at making him a drug-sniffing dog, but Juno doesn’t obey anyone but me, so he flunked out. Mastered only the first lesson.”

“What are you saying?”

He pulled a plastic pill bottle from his pocket. “These were on the bedside table. Do you know what she takes them for?”

Mia took the bottle and held it up to the light from the engines. “It’s her blood pressure medication. I pick up her prescriptions myself.”

Dallas frowned.

Mia felt the seeds of dread take hold deep down. She put her hands on Dallas’s unyielding chest. “Dallas, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“The first lesson, the only one that Juno mastered...”

She found she was holding her breath as he finished.

“Was alerting on drugs...like cocaine.”

* * *

Dallas mentally berated himself for mentioning Juno’s behavior at that moment. Mia was already trembling as the shock of what had happened settled in.

Should’ve waited. How many times had he said that to himself?

This time he did not allow her to pull away when he folded her in a smoky embrace. She was so small, so slight in his arms, and he resisted the urge to run his hands along her shoulders. He thought of all the things he should say, the comforts he could whisper in her ear, but everything fled, driven away by the feel of her. She stiffened suddenly, and he wondered if she’d been hurt in the fire.

“There,” Mia gasped, pointing behind the house.

He turned in time to see a woman with a wild tangle of red hair framed by the trees that backed the property. She stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide and face soot-stained and then she bolted into the woods.

“Stop,” Dallas called, and he and Juno took off into the trees, Mia stumbling along behind.

“Who was that?” she asked, panting.

He didn’t know.

“I thought I saw her outside the clinic one time, talking to Cora, but I’m not sure,” Mia said.

A cursory search yielded nothing, though the falling rain and smoke didn’t help. After a short time, they left off looking to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

In the waiting room, Mia sat on a hard-backed chair, and Dallas paced as much as the narrow hallway would allow until the doctor delivered his news. “I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”

Dallas watched the spirit leak out of Mia as she put her head in her hands. Something cut at him, something deeper than the grief at Cora’s death. He swallowed hard and stepped aside with the doctor. “Do you have a cause of death?”

The physician, whose name tag read Dr. Carp, hesitated. “She was dead upon arrival, but we called the police immediately after you told us about the pills. They took possession of them. Autopsy will be later this week.” That much Dallas already knew as he and Mia had told their story to a young uniformed cop named Brownley.

The doctor left and Dallas sat next to Mia. He didn’t speak. There was nothing to say anyway. Best to wait until she could articulate the thoughts that rolled across her face like wind sweeping through grass. Finally, he took her hand, hoping she would not yank it away. She didn’t.

“Cora wanted to tell us something, something important,” Mia said, her voice wobbling as she clutched his fingers. “Can you guess anything at all about what it was?”

Dallas shook his head. “No.”

“I’m sure Juno was wrong about the pills,” she said, a tiny pleading note to her voice. “Those were for her blood pressure. I delivered them to her myself. They couldn’t have hurt her. Could they?”

He covered her hand with his palm. “Whatever this is, however it went down, was not your fault.”

“That woman... Who was she?” Her brown eyes were haunted. “Dallas...” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

He pulled her to her feet then and embraced her because he did not know the words to say. He never did, probably never would. “I’m taking you home.”

A short, balding man with a thick, silvered mustache came close. “In a minute. I’m Detective Stiving, Ms. Verde, and I need to ask you some questions.”

Dallas felt his gut tighten. Stiving. Perfect.

He and Stiving had been oil and water since Dallas had butted in on a missing-person’s case and found a teen lost near Rockglen Creek whom Stiving had insisted was a runaway.

“Kid’s a loose cannon,” Stiving had insisted. “Drinks and parties like his father.”

Runaway or lost, Dallas and Juno found the kid named Farley who’d fallen into a ravine, and the press was there to catch it. Since then, Dallas had gotten a bogus speeding ticket and been stopped twice by Stiving for no particular reason. Not good, but in a small town like Spanish Canyon, Stiving was it.

“Doc says you’re making allegations about drugs,” Stiving said, holding up the bottle of pills nestled in an evidence bag. “Looking to get some more publicity for yourself?”

“Juno alerted on that pill bottle.”

“Juno is a drug-sniffing flunk-out, from what I’ve heard. I thought his forte was tracking down idiots who get lost in the woods.”

Mia wiped her sleeve across her cheeks. “What kind of talk is that for a law enforcement officer?” she said indignantly. “Cora is...was a long-time resident of this town. I should think you’d want to be thorough investigating her death.”

His blue eyes narrowed, face blotching with color. “Yes, Ms. Verde, I will. I started by running a check on you. It made for interesting reading. Since you’ve had such a long and storied history with law enforcement, I guess you’d know that I’ll be contacting you for follow up information as soon as I get this to the lab.”

Mia went white and then red.

Dallas clenched his jaw. Don’t mouth off to the cops, Dallas. “We saw a woman with red hair running away from the house.”

Stiving blinked. “Really? Did you recognize her?”

Mia shook her head. “She might have come to the clinic to talk to Cora, but I’m not sure. I only saw her for a moment.”

“And you?”

Dallas shrugged.

“Right. Well, we’ll investigate that while we’re checking into things.” The detective’s phone rang, and he walked away to answer it and then left abruptly.

Mia put a hand on Dallas’s wrist, her fingers ice cold. “I have to go. Tina needs to get home, and I want to read Gracie a story before bed.” She looked at her soiled clothes. “It will take some explaining about why I look like this.” Her lip trembled. “I’ll need to tell Gracie about Cora.”

He wondered how a woman with filthy hair, torn clothes and a grief-stained face could look so beautiful, like Whistler’s painting of the woman in white he’d seen in his mother’s art books decades ago. Would she be so trusting if she knew the truth about what brought him to town? Dallas had been many things in his life, a gang member, a wanderer and a drinker. He’d never been a liar, not until now, with her. It tightened something deep in his gut. He had to remind himself he had good reasons for the subterfuge.

He’d been hired by Antonia, Mia’s sister, to keep watch over her due to the prevalence of Mia’s ex-husband Hector Sandoval’s many enemies. Cora, a friend of Antonia’s new husband, was in on the whole thing. An accomplice, he thought ruefully, who’d arranged for Dallas to hang out on her property just as often as the stubborn and ferociously independent Mia did.

He returned to the truck where Juno was sound asleep and waited until Mia got into her car. Following her home, he ran things over in his mind. Cora was obviously disturbed when she messaged both Dallas and Mia. How coincidental was it that her house burned down and she lost her life on the very same night Mia spotted some mystery woman fleeing the scene? Very coincidental, and Dallas Black did not believe in coincidence any more than he believed that Elvis still strolled planet Earth.

He walked Mia to her front door and waited while she stepped into the tiny front room.

Four-year-old Gracie came flying down the hall, short bob of hair bouncing around her, eyes alight with pleasure at the sight of him. They’d encountered each other many times at Cora’s house while he was on the roof and she was digging holes around the property. When rain interrupted the roofing, they built card houses together, impressed with their creations until Juno knocked them over with a jerk of his tail.

“Did you come to play?” She took in his appearance and laughed. “You need a shower, Mr. Dallas.”

He laughed, too, and Mia tried to draw Gracie away.

“Can he come in for a snack?” the child asked. “I’ve got Goldfish.”

Dallas got down on one knee. “You eat goldfish? Don’t the fins get stuck in your teeth?”

She giggled. “They’re cracker fish. Juno will like them.”

“Juno can’t have Goldfish tonight, but we’ll come another time.”

She frowned. “Okay, but what if I don’t have Goldfish then? Mommy eats them sometimes when I’m asleep and she’s off her diet.”

Mia’s face flushed, and Dallas hid a grin.

“Tell you what, Goldfish girl. Next time I come with Juno, I’ll bring some Goldfish along. How’s that?”

She nodded, finally trotting off into the kitchen.

“You don’t have to make good on that promise,” Mia whispered as she let Dallas out. “As a matter of fact, I’d rather you didn’t promise her things at all. I know you’d never mean to disappoint, but Gracie’s been let down in a big way by her father.”

“No sweat,” he said. Something flickered in her face, something thoughtful. “You’re not planning to go to the clinic, right?”

Mia jerked. “How did you know I was thinking about that?”

“Call it a knack. Don’t go there by yourself, just in case whatever she was looking into has something to do with the fire.”

She stayed silent.

“If you do have to go, I’ll go with you.”

She offered a courteous smile. “Thanks, Dallas. I appreciate it.”

But you’ll never allow it. He understood. He recognized the shadows that danced in her eyes for what they were. Fear. A desperate, ponderous weight of fear that she did not want to expose to anyone. Who would? He’d known that, tasted that when he was being beaten within an inch of his life during his gang days. That fear was hideous and bred on itself, multiplying exponentially the longer it was kept in the dark, like a poisonous fungus. He wished he could tell her. There is only one antidote, One who could defeat that fear. Instead, he remained silent until he heard the sound of the lock turning.

Juno and Dallas made one more stop on the way home, purchasing a bone for Juno and a handful of hot peppers for himself. With some help from the store clerk, he also secured five bags of Goldfish crackers, which he stowed in the back of his truck. Who knew Goldfish came in so many flavors? Dallas smiled to himself. Gracie knew, and that was enough.

TWO

The parking lot was empty, quiet, save for the patter of a cold rain and the scuff of Mia’s shoes as she made her way to the darkened clinic hours later. She was grateful that Tina offered to stay late. It was almost eight by the time Mia embarked on her mission. She knew she should have called Dallas, but the only thing that scared her more than what had happened to Cora was the thought of losing herself to another man who would betray her and Gracie. She realized her hands were in her pockets, hidden away, a habit she’d developed after she’d stabbed her husband.

The horror lapped at her afresh. Her own hands had lashed out with that knife, powered by terror that Hector would kill her and take Gracie away into his corrupt world. She would never have done it, but she believed, heart and soul, that Hector meant to end her life. After Mia’s arrest, she’d endured six months of jail time, knowing Gracie was with Hector, near people both ruthless and greed-driven, the worst being her own husband. After her release, she’d fled with Gracie, unaware that Hector would soon concoct a plot to outwit his enemies that involved kidnapping her sister, Antonia. While her sister fought for her life on a hurricane-ravaged island, Mia hid out like a frightened rabbit.

Sometimes her mind told her it was a dream, a nightmare, but she still remembered the feel of that knife in her hand and how her life had almost ended because she trusted the wrong man in spite of her father’s warnings, Antonia’s pleadings. In spite of her own troubled intuition.

Never again. Better to go it alone. A quick stop at the clinic. See if by chance Cora had left anything there that might be of help. In and out. Something wheeled along by her feet, and she gasped. Just a leaf, torn loose by the storm.

She bit back a wave of self-disgust at finding herself scuttling along, cringing at every leaf. She was an office clerk at the Spanish Canyon Clinic after all, and Cora was, had been, a volunteer. All perfectly aboveboard. But why had Cora originally insisted they wait until long after closing time to meet?

Her throat ached when she thought of her friend. Had she suffered? Had she known her house was burning around her?

Quickening her pace she sought shelter from the spring rain under the awning, keys ready in her hand, heart beating a little too hard, too erratically. Cora’s nightmarish death came on a date that already held terrible memories, her wedding anniversary.

An annual reminder of the worst mistake of her life. But Hector had been so gentle when they’d first met, even professing to be a Christian, until he’d begun to worship another kind of God, the god of money, power and excitement, when he’d gotten involved in the drug trade. It was long over. Hector was jailed on new charges, the divorce finalized two years before, but Hector did not want to accept his losses, so she lived as anonymous a life as she could manage.

With teeth gritted, she wondered—Had Hector found her again?

His reach hadn’t extended to Spanish Canyon, Colorado. Not this time.

Wind carried a cold spray of rain onto her face that trickled down the back of her neck. She wished there was someone else around, the janitor, a late working nurse, anyone. They might be parked in the underground garage, she thought hopefully. With a surge of relief she saw the lights on in the back of the building where she and Cora shared a desk.

Jamming her key in the lock, she left the rain behind and headed down the silent corridor to the rear of the building. She did not know what she hoped to accomplish. Maybe it was all just a way to keep busy.

Cora’s desk was bare, save for a paperweight rock engraved with the words Be Still. An impossible task, it seemed, for the nearly eighty-year-old woman who had recently decided to learn Italian and tour Europe. Her eyes were drawn to her own desk. Shadows must be deceiving. Silhouetted in the lamplight was a vase full of long-stemmed roses. Trancelike, she moved closer and turned on her own work light. Yellow roses, which had once been her favorite. A gilt-edged card.

I’m sorry. I love you and we can be a family again. Hector.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. It was as if he was there, right there, standing in the shadows. Fear turned into hatred for the man who had stripped away her belief in herself.

Hector didn’t strip it away. You handed it over, wrapped in a bow.

The floor creaked, and she spun around with a scream.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Elias said with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was working late and noticed the florist had been here. Nice roses. Curiosity won out, and I checked the card.” He raised an apologetic eyebrow, the fiftysomething face calm and serene. “My wife says I’m incurably nosey, and I hate to admit that she’s got me pegged.”

Mia forced out a calming breath. “I’m surprised to see you here so late.”

“Insomnia. It usually sends me to the computer to play solitaire, but I get tired of beating myself, so I come here sometimes.”

“Did you...did you hear about Cora?”

He nodded, mournfully. “Tragic. Cora was an excellent lady and a noble spirit.” He shook his head. “Why do the good die before their time?”

It was a question she’d asked many times to a God who’d never given her a straight answer.

Dr. Elias cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad you came so you could get your flowers, but why so late? Insomnia trouble for you also?”

She was about to tell him about the prearranged meeting with Cora, but something stopped her. “I just wanted to clean up Cora’s desk.”

“Looks clean already.” Something in his inflection made her wonder if he’d been looking through Cora’s belongings. Ridiculous. Crazy suspicion.

He surveyed the ceiling for a long moment. “It’s good, actually, that we have a private moment so we can talk. I feel as though I have treated you well, hired you on in spite of your criminal record.”

She winced. “Yes, you have. I appreciate that.”

“It was Cora who went to bat for you, you know. She felt passionately that you would be an asset to this clinic. I was reluctant, I’ll admit.”

Mia started. She hadn’t even known Cora when she moved to Spanish Canyon. She’d been following a lead on a job that her sister had dug up. Close to nursing school. Quiet town where nobody knew her.

“So I’m loathe to ask it, Mia, but when were you going to mention the truth about your criminal husband?”

She kept her chin high, even though at five three she barely reached his shoulder. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “Ex-husband.”

He blinked, his smooth complexion bordered by a distinguished head of gray hair that went well with his stature as head of the town’s largest general medicine clinic. “I knew he was abusive, you were arrested for stabbing him I realize, but you didn’t quite tell me the whole story. The flowers got me curious and I did a little checking. Nosey, just like my wife says. He wasn’t just an abusive spouse. He’s a Miami drug kingpin with powerful friends.” His pale gray eyes locked on hers. “You didn’t feel like you should mention that?”

Mention it? She was too busy trying to forget it.

“Is that why you don’t use your married name? Sandoval?”

“It’s not my name because I’m not married anymore. I haven’t been for years. Simple as that.”

He looked at the ceiling again while he talked. “Not really so simple. I’ve tried to support you here, to give you the hours you need to get you through nursing school and help you earn some money to keep food on the table for Gracie.”

She didn’t like it when he said Gracie’s name, for some reason that she could not articulate. Did she feel the swell of distrust when she looked at him because he had the same self-assured manner as Hector? The doctor had been nothing but gracious.

“I would do anything for my own kids, as you know. It hasn’t always been easy to afford everything times two, but that’s the price of having twins. Jake and Renee are both in private high school now, so I understand wanting the best for your kids. But why lie? Especially to me.”

“I never lied. You asked about my ex-husband, and I told you the reason I was sent to jail.”

“You neglected to mention your husband is a Miami drug lord. You thought you’d pulled the wool over my eyes, didn’t you? Simple country doctor. Easy to do, you figured?”

“No, nothing like that, really,” she said.

The phone buzzed again.

Something sparked in his eyes. “Omissions are lies, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” His brow furrowed. “It pains me to do it, it really does, but I have a professional obligation, no matter what my personal feelings are. My patients have to have absolute trust in me and my staff, and if you’re still getting flowers from a drug kingpin, I can’t risk having you here.”

Mia would not let him see her cry. Head high, she nodded. “I’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes.” She went to the desk in the corner of the Spanish Canyon Clinic and shoved the picture of Gracie into a bag along with a collection of notepads. Cora’s Learn Italian Today book was on her desk, under a box of tissue, and she scooped it up as well. She’d never dropped a phone call, never misplaced a file or been anything but pleasant to everyone and even that wasn’t enough to overshadow her disastrous marriage.

Blinking to keep the tears at bay, her mind ran wild. No job. How would she finish school? Would it be the end of her dreams to finally give Gracie a stable, normal life? Her phone demanded her attention again and this time she yanked it from her pocket. It was a text from Dallas.

Ok?

Was she?

Dr. Elias still stood there, filling the doorway with his blocky shoulders, a look of indecision on his face. “This husband, Hector. He’s tracked you everywhere, hasn’t he?”

One of the notepads sliced into her finger giving her a paper cut. She shook off the sting angrily.

“Hector must be jealous.” The lamplight etched Dr. Elias in tight shadow. “Have you given him reason?”

She froze. “What?”

“The tough guy with the dog. I’ve seen him talking to you. Hector can’t be happy about this.”

Seen Dallas? Something cold trickled through her. Why had Dr. Elias noticed whom she’d been talking to?

He flicked a glance into her bag. “You’re not taking any clinic information, are you?”

She burned. “No, Doctor. I would not behave unethically, even after I’ve been wrongly terminated.”

A glimmer of a smile lit his face. “I always liked your spunk, Mia Verde Sandoval. Too bad.”

Mia grabbed her bag and purse and went to the door, but he barred her path.

He didn’t move, just watched her as if he was weighing something in his mind. He reached out a hand to touch her forearm, but she recoiled.

“Hold on. I can see the truth now. You didn’t lie to deceive, you lied because you’re afraid.”

Her breath caught and she shook her head.

“Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid that Hector will find you.” He stared closely at her. “No, you’re afraid that you can’t trust yourself, your choices, your judgments.” He took her arm.

The fingers felt cold there against her skin, her own feet rooted to the floor. It was as if he’d stepped inside her, peered into the cold dark place in her heart where she herself dared not go.

“I know what it’s like to be lied to. I’m so sorry, Mia,” he said, pupils glittering in the dimly lit office. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m dense, sometimes. I didn’t realize. I can help you.”

Standing this close she realized how strong he looked. Her fingers clutched her car keys, and she raised them in front of her.

“I want to leave. Now.”

He laughed and moved a step closer. She was acutely aware of how empty the clinic was, how dark the outer corridors. “You’re a beautiful woman, you know that?” His gaze flickered up and down her body. “You deserve more. I can help you get your life back.”

She pressed back until she bumped into the file cabinets, a metal handle digging into her spine. He put his hands out, kneading her shoulders.

She jerked away from his grasp. “I want to go,” she whispered, gripping the keys. “I will scream the place down if you touch me again.”

He chuckled. “You came here after hours, almost as if you were looking for me.”

The implication was clear. Who do you think they’ll believe?

She gripped the keys, palms clammy, readying herself to gouge and bite and kick. Unsure.

“You’re not seeing things clearly, Mia. You don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore, do you?” The words were almost a whisper, his mouth curved in a soft smile. “You need help.”

Help? Was that what he offered? Her gut told her to run. Should she trust that instinct?

From somewhere far away, she heard herself say, “I want to go. Now.”

“Maybe you don’t know what you want,” he said, eyes glittering.

“Yes, she does,” said a low voice. The doctor was jerked back and dumped in an unceremonious pile on the floor. Dallas Black looked down at Elias, his dark eyes blending with the shadows.

She realized Dallas must have been expecting her to act stupidly and visit the clinic and her cheeks burned, but relief overrode any other sensation.

“I was just fired,” Mia announced. “And now I’m going to leave.”

Dallas didn’t move. “Good. Doesn’t pay to work for dirtbags.”

“Trespassing and assault,” Dr. Elias snapped at Dallas, scrambling to his feet. “I will have you arrested.”

Dallas ignored the comment completely. “Ready to go?” he said to her.

“Get off my property,” Dr. Elias snarled. Gone was the genial smile, any vestiges of warmth, fire blazed in his eyes.

Mia gripped her bag and walked to the door on shaky legs, grateful to have Dallas looking over her shoulder at the doctor. She was desperate to end the situation. Dallas had a complete disregard for rules and she wanted to finish the whole confrontation before anything worse happened.

“You are turning away from someone who wants to help you, Mia,” Dr. Elias said, nostrils flared. “And look what you’re walking into.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Elias,” Mia said.

“Don’t forget your flowers,” he yelled.

“Keep them,” she said.

* * *

Dallas’s truck was parked at the curb, and Juno sat next to it. When he saw her his tail went into overtime, and he whined until she gave him a cursory pat. He licked her face.

“If a man approached my ride, Juno would bark up a storm, but with you he’d hand over the keys,” Dallas said. Smart dog.

Juno was once an aggressive shelter resident after having been beaten and starved by a cruel owner. Dallas had spent six months tracking down that negligent owner on his own dime, until the man was charged with animal cruelty and subjected to hefty fines. It wasn’t enough in Dallas’s view.

Mia straightened in spite of Juno’s disappointment and gave him a tight smile. “He must know I’m a cat person and he’s trying to help me see the light.” She paused. “I would have handled the situation, you know. No one will keep me from Gracie.”

“No doubt. I’m just glad I was in the neighborhood.” In truth he’d been driving around town, too restless to stay home, checking the clinic lot every so often in case Mia showed up like he suspected she’d do. “I’m not sure...” She bit her lip. “I don’t know if Dr. Elias was going to hurt me. He said he wanted to help.”

Help? That wasn’t what Dallas had heard in the good doctor’s tone when he put his hands on Mia. “What did your gut tell you?”

“To leave.”

“Then you did the right thing.” Dallas clamped down on the anger that ticked at his insides. His own instincts told him Dr. Elias was interested in much more than Mia’s well-being. He despised the thought of Elias being anywhere near Mia. Or touching her. Or looking in her general direction.

Overprotective, Black.

Overprotective? How could that be when she kept him at arm’s length and he wasn’t interested in a relationship anyway? Whatever the reason, something about her, her strength perhaps, stayed in his mind like a lingering fragrance.

It made him pretty sure that if she knew the real reason he’d come to Spanish Canyon, to protect her without her consent, she’d let him have it with both barrels, but the roses on her desk indicated there was ample cause for him to keep an eye on her.

He’d met Mia at the wedding of her sister, Antonia, to Hector’s brother Reuben Sandoval after the two barely survived a hurricane. Oddly, he’d befriended Antonia three years prior in the wake of a massive earthquake that struck San Francisco where he assisted his brother, Trey, in rescuing Antonia and Sage Harrington, now Trey’s wife. At least Antonia and Trey had both found love matches in the midst of disaster. A memory from that wedding stayed sharp in his mind. Mia’s face torn with sorrow, or was it guilt, cradling Gracie in her arms. Hemingway said people healed stronger where they were broken. Mia, though she didn’t ever discuss her past, was like that, he figured. Sometimes it takes more strength to ask for help than to go it alone, Mia.

He snapped out of his reverie when she sighed heavily. “Go ahead and say it. I was dumb to come here, after hours, in light of all that’s happened.”

He considered. “Yeah.”

“I have good reasons for doing things my own way.”

“Don’t we all.” He tried to catch her eye, but she avoided his gaze. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Sure?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said with a little too much bravado. He caught the tremble of her lips in spite of the dim light. It made his stomach tighten.

“I’ll follow you home again.”

“I’m fine. There’s no reason.”

“It’s dark, weather’s bad and you were harassed. That’s three reasons.” He opened the door for her.

She rolled her eyes and started to get into the car when the bag slipped from her hands. She snatched it up but not before Cora’s Italian book plopped out. It fell open, and she saw something stuck inside. Picking it up hastily, she said, “What’s this?”

From between the pages she pulled out a four-by-six photo, and Dallas shone his penlight on it.

“We’ve seen this woman before,” she said grimly.

Dallas felt a stir of foreboding flow through his belly. “Running away from Cora’s burning house.”

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.

FOUR

Dallas listened to the rain pounding down on the metal roof of the twenty-nine-foot trailer he rented. It was a gem of a unit as far as he was concerned, far enough away from the other trailer park residents that he enjoyed the illusion of solitude. That and the fact that the river just at the edge of the property had already persuaded many folks to temporarily relocate to another trailer park on higher ground. He wasn’t completely familiar with Colorado weather patterns, but he’d give it a good couple of days before he needed to grab his pack and head for another spot.

Dallas sprawled on his back on the narrow bunk, Juno snoring on his mat on the floor. His thoughts wandered back to Mia and the fire. His police contact hadn’t been able to tell him much, but he knew that circumstantial evidence could convict a person in the eyes of the law and the community.

Motive and means. Mia had both.

He got to his feet and took up his guitar from the closet. Juno burrowed deeper into his mat as Dallas strummed out a few chords on the instrument that was a gift from his brother, Trey. So, indirectly, was Dallas’s damaged spleen and knee, but he did not hold that against his brother anymore. Dallas got into gang life to emulate Trey, but no one had forced him.

He’d gone in willingly and come out so damaged he would never realize his dream of being a Marine like their father.

He tried to remember his sixteen-year-old self, armed and patrolling the ten-block territory as a sentinel of sorts, a lookout for Uncle, the older leader of the gang who pedaled dope, which kept the wheels rolling. He’d admired Uncle, feared him even, yet watched him hand out new shoes and Fourth of July fireworks to the kids who couldn’t afford either. They were the same kids who would be members one day, looking for that combination of belonging and protection that Uncle provided. Sixteen years old, carrying a gun, drinking and protecting a hoodlum’s drug business. He cringed at the memory. What an idiot. What a coward.

How many trailers had he stayed in over the years? How many apartments or cabins had he called home until people got to know him a little too well and he felt that restless urge to move on? Was he still looking for that place to belong?

Or was it more cowardice? Probably, God forgive him. It was safer not to get to know people and to prevent them from knowing him. Safe...with a helping of sin mixed in. His grandfather’s favorite baseball player, Mickey Mantle, said gangs were where cowards went to hide. Maybe they sometimes went to trailer parks, too. He fought the rising tide of self-recrimination with a muttered prayer.

The clock reminded him he hadn’t eaten dinner. The fridge didn’t offer much so he grabbed a rainbow of hot peppers and an onion. Armed with a perfectly balanced knife, he allowed himself to be soothed by the precision of the slices as they fell away onto the cutting board.

Juno surged to his feet, ears cocked.

Company.

So late? And in the throes of a pounding rain? He put down the knife and sidled to the window, peering through the blinds. Nothing. No cars visible, but then his windows faced the tree-lined creek so he wouldn’t see one anyway. Juno was standing in front of the door, staring with laser-like precision, ears swiveling, as if he could see beyond the metal if he just worked hard enough at it. With hearing four times greater than a human’s, Juno was not often wrong about what he heard.

Dallas tried to peer through the blinds again, but the angle was wrong. Still no one knocked. Juno maintained his ferocious intensity, which told Dallas someone was out there. The slightest sound or scent telegraphed to a dog just as strongly as a stiff-knuckled rap on the door.

Okay. Let’s play. Dallas gripped the door handle. Juno’s whiskers quivered, body trembling, sensing a game in the offing. Juno, like every great SAR dog, had an intense play drive that never wound down.

Dallas did a slow count to three and yanked the handle.

Wind barreled in along with a gust of rain, and Juno charged down the metal stairs onto the wooden porch. He turned in circles looking for something that wasn’t there.

Dallas kept his fists ready and gave the dog the moment he needed to get his bearings. Moisture-laden air confused Juno’s senses, but not for long.

The dog shoved his head in the gap under the trailer and began to bark for all he was worth, tail whirling.

A woman’s scream cut through the storm.

“Sit,” Dallas yelled to Juno, who complied with a reluctant whine.

“Whoever you are under the trailer, come out.”

No answer.

“If you don’t come out, the dog is coming in.”

Now there was movement, a raspy breathing, a set of slender fingers wrapping around the edge of the trailer, the impression of a face.

“He’ll bite me.”

Dallas called Juno to him and held the dog by the collar, more to assure the woman than out of fear that Juno would disobey. Juno didn’t bite people. He was more interested in getting them to throw a ball for him to fetch. “Come out.”

She emerged, soggy and mud streaked, her hair plastered in coils against her face. Red hair.

“You were there at the fire.”

She didn’t answer, trembling in the falling rain.

“Come inside. We’ll talk.”

She didn’t move. “Are you a friend of Cora’s?”

“Are you?” He could see the thoughts racing through her mind as she chewed her lip without answering. “All I can tell you is I won’t hurt you.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” she said through chattering teeth.

“Guess you can’t. You came here to find me and here I am. If you want to talk, we do it inside. Don’t want the dog to catch cold.”

After another long look at Juno, the woman ran up the steps.

He tossed her a towel, which she wrapped around her shoulders before she sank onto the kitchen chair. Juno did his thing, sniffing her muddy shoes and the hem of her sodden linen pants.

Dallas studied her while he heated water in the microwave and flung in a tea bag which had come with the trailer. Some sort of fruity herbal stuff. Her clothes had been nice at one point, ruined now. A light jacket was not up to the task of keeping her dry from the pummeling rain. No purse.

“Who are you?” he asked as he handed her the tea.

She clutched it between her shaking hands, her knuckles white.

“Susan.” She swallowed. “I was going to meet Cora, and I saw the house burning. I tried to get inside to help her.”

Nice story. “Why were you meeting her?”

“She was...looking into something for me.” She locked eyes on his, hers a pale gray. “Is she all right?”

Dallas considered. Time to find out if Susan really was a friend to Cora. “Dead.” He gauged her reaction.

The woman did not move, as if the words were lost in the steam from the mug she held to her lips. “Dead.”

“So why were you going to see her?”

She gazed into the tea. “How did the fire start?”

“Maybe I should be asking you that.”

She jerked. “You think I set it?”

“So far I’ve seen you running away from a fire and sneaking outside my trailer. Puts your character in question.”

A glimmer of a smile lifted her lips, but there was something under the trailing wet hair, behind the gaunt lines of her mouth that revealed a hardness he hadn’t seen at first. “So you’re wondering if you can trust me?” she said.

“Not wondering. I’m not going to trust you, not until you give me the truth.”

“You’re a hard man.”

He sat opposite her. “I’ve got peppers to sauté. What are you here for?”

She held his eyes with hers, a slight lift to her chin. “Justice.”

“Not easy to find.”

“I know. But I’m going to have it. I’m going to get back what belongs to me.” The last words came out as a hiss.

“What were you doing at Cora’s?”

“Meeting her there. She was trying to help me unmask a villain, so to speak.”

“Who?”

“It’s private.”

He rapped a hand on the table. “We’re wasting time. Cora was likely murdered and you were there at the scene.”

“If I was going to kill someone, or burn a house in this town,” she said, after drinking deeply of the tea, “that’s not the one I would have picked. And by the way, you were there, too, at the scene. Did you have something to do with Cora’s death?”

Dallas resisted the urge to raise his voice. “If you thought I did, a quick phone call to the police would take care of it. You came here for another reason.”

“I wanted to know about Cora, and I’m not asking the police for personal reasons.”

Very personal, judging from the flicker of emotion that pinched the corners of her mouth. Impasse. They’d gotten there, he could tell. Whatever her motives, he wasn’t going to pry them out of her. Women didn’t work that way, he’d learned. Instead he sat back in the chair and waited.

* * *

Mia’s mouth went dry as the garage door stopped with a groan, halfway up. The man hopped off the step and ran to the car. He was coming to drag her out. The old car had no automatic locks so she slammed the button down and realized in a hot wave of panic that he was not headed to her side, but Gracie’s.

“Lock the door, Gracie,” Mia shouted.

Gracie sat frozen, staring at her mother.

Mia dove across her and hammered the lock, the back door, as well. The man banged his palms against the glass.

Gracie screamed. “Stop, stop!”

Mia nearly screamed too until the man stepped away suddenly. He picked up a metal bucket and swung it hard at the passenger window with a deafening crash until the glass was etched through with cracks.

“Get down onto the floor,” Mia yelled to Gracie, “and cover your head with your hands.”

She yanked the car into Reverse. After one quick breath, she stomped on the gas. The car shot backwards into the garage door. There was a terrible moment when the roof met the unyielding mass and she thought she had made a fatal error. Groaning metal, the sound of breaking glass and then quite without warning the car punched through, shearing the garage door into a crumpled mess, exploding onto the rain-slicked driveway.

Mia was oblivious to the damage. Only two facts remained, her car was still functioning and they were free from the garage. She reversed down the slope, cranked the car into Drive and sped off down the road, putting as much distance between the man and Gracie as she possibly could. One mile, two, her stomach remained in a tight knot, fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

She forced several breaths in and out before she could coax her voice into action. “Gracie Louise, are you hurt?”

Gracie’s tiny voice floated up from the floor. “Scary.”

“You’re right,” she said, relief making her voice thick. “But it’s okay now. You can climb back on the seat. Be careful of the glass.”

Gracie emerged like a hare having narrowly escaped the fox. Her lips were parted, eyes wide and wet. “Mommy, that was a bad man.”

Mia gave a shaky laugh and took her daughter’s hand. “Yes, he was.”

“Why was he in our house?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know, but we’ll go someplace safe until we find out, okay?”

“Where?”

The million dollar question. The nearest hotel was an hour away, and they didn’t have the money to stay in one for long anyway. Rain splattered through the side window that had broken when it impacted the garage door. She felt the bitter tide of anger rise as she contemplated her own helplessness. Mia risked a quick stop, engine running, to move Gracie to the backseat and buckle her into her booster. She kissed her and caressed her daughter’s plump cheeks. “I’m going to figure out something, okay?”

Gracie nodded, shaking the box of macaroni she still clung to. “But I’m hungry.”

Mia smiled as she climbed back into the driver’s seat, but worry soon overwhelmed her. She didn’t even have a cell phone to call the police. The storm intensified as she drove along, rattling the sides of the car. If she could call her sister for advice...

Your sister who is busy with her new husband and her new life. They were tight now, together again after all the anguish Mia had caused, but still there remained in the shadows between them, a heavy weight of guilt. It stemmed from the fact that her sister had been right about Hector when Mia refused to hear a bad word about him, a feeling that burgeoned during her time in jail with all its horrors. Because of Hector, Antonia was almost killed and there was nobody to blame for bringing him into their lives but Mia. No, she would not call Antonia.

“Why not call Hector?” her derisive thoughts chided her. He was sitting around in prison with nothing much to do and a reach that seemed to exceed the metal walls that caged him. She could grovel even more and throw herself on Dr. Elias’s mercy. Was there any pride left to salvage? Self-pity gave way to a hot flood of determination.

Stand on your own two feet, for once in your life.

Mile after mile gave her no clarity, no better sense of what to do. Only the instinct to keep going, to get away from whoever had violated their home, kept her pressing the car forward. She’d made up her mind to stop at the next town she came to and call the police when she realized where she was, at the entrance to the trailer park where Dallas lived. She’d given him a lift there once when his truck had engine trouble.

She saw the silhouette of his vehicle, and she pulled her car next to it, motor still running.

“Where are we?” Gracie said, unbuckling her strap.

“Nowhere, I was just stopping to rest my eyes for a minute.” What was she doing? She would not go to Dallas for help, the man who already seemed to have a strange influence over her pulse. An image of long-stemmed yellow roses floated into her mind. It was followed by a vision of Hector, the man whom she’d loved desperately, blindly, the husband who lied to her from the first kiss and right on until his arrest for drug dealing and later for the attempted abduction of her sister. Fool, fool, fool. Tears brimmed, captive in her eyes.

She swallowed hard. “Put your seat belt back on, we’re not stopping here.”

“But there’s Juno,” Gracie gabbled, shoving open the door and hopping out.

“Get back in the car right now, Gracie Louise,” Mia said, noting the spill of light from Dallas’s door as he emerged onto the trailer steps, peering into the darkness.

“Hi, Dallas,” Gracie called. “Can you make me some mac and cheese?”

Mia sighed. God could not lead her to another dark-haired man who would prove her a fool again. If that was His plan, Mia was going to make one of her own. Jaw tense, she stepped out of the car and went to retrieve her daughter.

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