knows I’m not a cop. If he’s going to run, so be it.”
She shook her head. “This cloak-and-dagger stuff is ludicrous.”
“I thought you were a detective. Isn’t that your stock in trade?”
A sliver of a smile lightened her face. There was a quick flash of a dimple, which thrilled and scared him. He’d always been a sucker for dimples until his gorgeously dimpled fiancée left him. You deserved it, Dan. You came back from Afghanistan with different priorities. Wasn’t AnnaLisa’s fault. But still...dimples.
“I’m only a detective on paper, remember?” she said, but she followed him out to the parking lot.
He strolled close and put an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened but did not pull away. “What are you doing?”
“Just letting Tank know you’ve got backup, in case he wants to try anything.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“There’s a reason he isn’t eager to take his problems to the cops. Let’s play it safe until we know more.”
The night was cold, and he felt her shiver. Then again, it might have been the insane day she’d had so far already. Explosions and clandestine meetings. She was right. Ludicrous, especially in the quiet town of Cobalt Cove.
The Beachbum Diner was an odd little spot, a throwback to the 1970s with booths upholstered in tan and yellow, with a menu as eclectic as the mismatched lighting fixtures.
Dan waved to Vin, the owner, and guided Angela to a corner booth. She slid in next to him, gaze darting around the place, which was fairly busy in spite of the late hour. Spillover festivalgoers devoured slices of pie and coffee, plates of waffles and eggs. No sign of Tank. “Can I get you something to eat?”
She jerked. “What?”
“Food.” He waved at the owner. “Vin makes a mean stir-fry.”
She raised an eyebrow and quirked her lips. “I was expecting burgers and omelets.”
“He makes those, too. We should order something so we look less conspicuous. Besides, Vin is putting three kids through college. Sitters don’t pay the tuition unless they’re eating.” Dan was about to go to the counter and order when Angela sat up straighter. She stared over his shoulder, lips pressed together as Tank joined them.
He sported a canvas jacket that had seen better days, turned up at the collar, and the same baseball cap he’d worn at the scene of the explosion. His face, though wider and dead serious, was indeed the image of his brother Julio’s. Dan knew it was the face Angela saw in her memories, reliving the moments before Julio Guzman was shot. It was a face he’d never forget either, a patient lost in spite of every bit of medical expertise he could muster. Losing. He detested it.
Tank sat across from them, hunched low. “Why are you here?” he said to Dan.
“Waiting to eat. What do you want with Angela?”
“Didn’t know you two were friends.”
Dan let the comment sit there. The silence grew. Tank shifted, looking from one to the other and finally settling on Angela. “You really a detective?” he said, jutting his chin at her.
“My family owns a detective agency. I help out.”
“Not a chaplain anymore?”
“I’m still a chaplain,” she said quietly.
His eyes narrowed. “Get anybody killed lately?”
Dan heard Angela suck in a breath. He moved to toss Tank out of the booth, but Angela stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Tank, there is no one sorrier than I am about what happened to your brother.”
“Sorry doesn’t matter. He’s still dead. Except for my wife and my mother, he’s practically the only family I had in this world, the only family I get to see, anyway.”
Dan saw the delicate muscles of her throat tighten.
“People die in combat,” Dan snapped.
“Yeah? Well, they’re supposed to die for a reason, not to keep some preacher alive.”
Dan leaned forward, jaw muscles twitching. “You’re out of line, and you are not going to sit here and attack this lady. Am I making myself clear?”
“What do you know about it?”
“More about it than you ever will. I served in Afghanistan, too, kid.”
“Soldier?”
“Doctor. And no one saw more death than we did, so keep a civil tongue in your head, smart aleck.”
Tank’s eyes went dark, hard as a stretch of bad road. For a moment, Dan wondered if the situation would escalate. He was ready if it did.
Tank slouched deeper into his jacket. “None of your business anyway, Doc.”
“What do you want?” Angela said. “Why do you need a detective?”
“Because...” He tapped his fingers on the table, scanning the diners again. “Someone is going to kill me.”
* * *
Angela wondered if she’d heard him right.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Did you give them reason to want to do that?”
Angela shot Dan a look. “What he meant is, who would want to do that and why?”
“And why not go to the cops?” Dan put in.
“Listen,” Tank said, hissing the word out. “I’m in trouble. I convinced Lila to help me, and you saw what happened to her. I need you to dig up some proof so I can take it to the cops so they’ll believe me.”
“Why won’t they believe you now?” Angela said. “Especially if the person after you caused the explosion.”
“I’ve had some trouble.” He made a show of studying the green glass lamp hanging over their booth. “Done some drugs. And other things.”
“Look, Tank,” Dan said. “Let’s hear it. Who’s the mysterious villain gunning for you and why?”
“Not a mystery,” Tank said, mouth in a tight line. “I know exactly who it is. I can show you a picture, for all the good it will do me, but he’s smart and he knows how to get to me if I go to the cops. You need to help me,” he said to Angela. “Prove he’s into some bad stuff. Send him to jail.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I can talk to my partners,” Angela said. “See what they think about taking the case.”
“No.” Tank slapped a hand on the table. “You need to do it. My brother said
