didn’t say a word of greeting. He simply bent down, lifted Ted from Beth’s lap and carried him to the truck. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll get him to the vet in no time.”
He saw Beth rise and follow, rubbing her bloodstained hands on her light blue jeans. “There was a man watching me from a Jet Ski in the bay earlier,” she said, her voice noticeably shaking. “I think he tried to get in while I was at my friend’s house. There are pieces of a torn shirt on the floor in my living room, so Ted might have injured the guy before being hurt himself.”
“How did the attacker get in?”
“I never lock up when Ted’s at home,” she replied. “It’s usually so safe.”
“Go lock up now,” Dillon said. “Let’s not take any more chances.”
He laid Ted across the backseat of the truck and stroked the dog’s small pointed ears. “Good dog,” he whispered.
He watched Beth turn the key in her front door with shaking hands before she ran to the passenger side and slid into the seat. Her skin was deathly pale and her full lips had been drained of their deep pink color.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for calling, but I panicked and you were the only person I could think of.” She looked into the backseat where the dog lay. “Ted means so much to me.”
He shut the passenger door and went around to the driver’s seat. “Don’t ever apologize for calling me,” he said. “The most important thing is that you’re safe.”
He switched on the siren and raced back along the coastal road, heading for the veterinarian’s office in the town. The fact that Beth’s house had been broken into so soon after she saved the young boy was no coincidence. He suspected that the cartel was responsible, and he needed to find out why this woman was of interest to them. Had she been targeted for elimination because she had seen the face of one of their men the previous evening?
He glanced over at her. She had turned her body to the left, to reach an arm around and stroke the dog’s head. A tear slipped down her cheek. This young woman was in danger. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew it wasn’t good to be on the radar of a Mexican cartel. She would need protecting.
This situation just got a whole lot more complicated than he would have liked.
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
