style="font-size:15px;"> “Hey,” he said.
She stiffened but did not look up. He could see only a glimpse of a tearstained face, hollow eyes that bored right into him down to a tender place he hadn’t known was there. “Lila’s on her way to the hospital, pulse is strong, looks like minor burns at this point. Breathing on her own. All good signs.”
He heard a sniff. He moved closer until he could see the tight grip of her hands, the tension in her neck and shoulders, the slight trembling.
“The explosion was frightening,” he said.
Sounds of crying. Slowly, very slowly, he touched her hand. “Hey. Why don’t we talk? This stuff is hard, I know. It will help you to talk.”
Her head jerked up then. “I don’t need to talk. And you don’t know anything about me.”
He smiled. “Actually, I do. We were in the same place together, remember? A place that very few people in Cobalt Cove can conceive of, unless they served there, too.”
She chewed her lip. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I didn’t, either, but you’ve got to get help.”
“I am the help,” she snapped.
He got it then. “Oh. Because you’re a chaplain, you’re supposed to be the expert, the one who comforts others.”
She didn’t answer. When she looked out over the water, there was only despair on that lovely face, the look of someone who had been left behind, without hope of rescue.
“Angela,” he started.
She waved a hand. “I’m sorry. The explosion and the fire. It got to me. It was silly to run. I’m sure the police want to talk to me.”
“As a matter of fact, they do. I’ll walk you back.”
“Thank you, but I can find my way.”
“Oh, they need to talk to me, too. I left at an inopportune moment.” He gestured to the top of the stairs, where the silhouette of two approaching cops stood out against the dusky sky. “Torrey’s steamed. Cops don’t like it when you keep them waiting.”
“Why did you then?”
“I wanted to find you.”
She scrubbed the tears from her face with her sleeve. “No prize here.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Offering a hand, he helped her stand. “Why did you come here to Cobalt Cove? Why were you talking to Lila?”
She hesitated. “I was looking for someone, and I heard Lila speaking to him on the phone.”
“Who?”
There was a long pause. He guessed she was weighing whether or not to trust him.
“Tank Guzman,” she said finally.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then I guess you accomplished your mission.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guy who helped out with the fire extinguisher.”
She stared at him.
“That was Tank Guzman.”
Angela tried her best to focus on the questions being fired at her by Lieutenant Torrey. At Dan’s insistence they had moved inside, to a table in the back room of the Grotto, a hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant complete with a rowboat suspended on the wall and crab traps piled in the corner. The smell of cooking fish made her queasy.
“Why?” Torrey said again. She realized she hadn’t heard the question.
“I’m sorry?”
“Why were you looking for Tank Guzman?” Dan supplied.
The lieutenant’s wide chin went up. “Stay out of it, Dr. Blackwater.”
Dan raised his chin. “This woman and I served together in Afghanistan. Lila Brown is my coworker at the clinic. I want answers, too.”
Angela knew Dan was close to being asked to step outside. For some reason, she wanted to avoid that. She took a deep breath. “Tank’s twin brother was my chaplain’s assistant in Afghanistan. I wanted to meet Tank.”
Torrey’s mouth twitched. “My son did some time there, too.” He eased back in his chair, frame erect but a bit less stiff, brown eyes searching her face. “You’re a navy chaplain and now a private investigator?” He’d taken a moment to do a quick search, she realized.
Angela blushed. “My family runs a PI firm. I help out. I have a few weeks of leave.”
“Got a license?”
“No.”
“You here to do some investigating on your own in Cobalt Cove? About Tank Guzman?”
She suddenly felt as if she was somehow under suspicion. Stake your ground and hold on to it, her marine father would have said. She sat up straighter. “No, I just wanted to find him and talk. I’d written him several letters over the past year, and he never replied until last week. He emailed me to arrange a meeting.”
“Why now?” Torrey drummed thick fingers on the table. “Why would he want to meet you now? After blowing you off for so long? What’s the urgency?”
“I don’t know. From what I heard Lila saying on the phone, she was trying to discourage him from meeting with me. She came to the festival to beg him to call it off.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She said if he met with me, it might get them both killed.”
“Are you sure he didn’t tell you anything in the email that would explain why he wanted to meet you?”
She shook her head. He gave her an appraising look that went on long enough to make her uncomfortable. Police technique, she imagined.
There was another half hour of questioning, the last part of which was directed at Dan.
“How do you know Tank Guzman, Dr. Blackwater?”
Dan massaged his shoulder, grimacing. “I volunteer at the Cobalt Clinic. He came in maybe a month ago needing some stitches and a tooth repaired because he’d been in a fight, he said. Lila helped patch up his tooth, and I did the stitching.”
“What was the fight about?”
Dan shrugged. “We just provide services to people who can’t afford it. Period. We’re not there to delve into their private lives unless they want to share.”
“Convenient.”
