Death valley double cros.., p.1
Death Valley Double Cross, page 1
“I have to run,” Pilar said. “You too. Get in your truck and leave town.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have to go on foot. My car’s in the back.”
They both froze at the sound of the kitchen doorknob being jiggled. Pilar pressed her hand across her mouth, her skin a ghastly pallor.
Austin knew what he had to do, as much as it pained him. “Come on. I’ll drive you,” he whispered.
“No...” she said, so low he almost missed it.
“Seems to me you don’t have another option,” he tossed over his shoulder. “It’s not what I want either, but you’re not going to get far on foot in this storm.”
Still she stood rooted, backpack dangling from her fingers, until there was a crash of a fist coming through a glass pane. They both ran to the front door; Austin flung it open and hurtled down the stairs into the pouring rain. At the street, he yanked open the door of his truck. Leaping behind the wheel, his heart sank.
Pilar was gone. Again.
Dana Mentink is a nationally bestselling author. She has been honored to win two Carol Awards, a HOLT Medallion and an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She’s authored more than thirty novels to date for Love Inspired Suspense and Harlequin Heartwarming. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her at danamentink.com.
Books by Dana Mentink
Love Inspired Suspense
Desert Justice
Framed in Death Valley
Missing in the Desert
Death Valley Double Cross
Alaska K-9 Unit
Yukon Justice
True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn
Cold Case Pursuit
True Blue K-9 Unit
Shield of Protection
Act of Valor
Roughwater Ranch Cowboys
Danger on the Ranch
Deadly Christmas Pretense
Cold Case Connection
Secrets Resurfaced
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Death Valley Double Cross
Dana Mentink
But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.
—James 4:6
To the National Park Service, who seeks to preserve the precious gift of Death Valley National Park for everyone to enjoy.
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
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Smugglers in Amish Country by Debby Giusti
ONE
“You have a face only a mother could love, Chunk.” Austin Duke peered through the bars of the animal carrier at the roly-poly dog with the pink tongue hanging out the gap where several front teeth had once been. His graying jowls spoke of a pug heritage mixed with something else. Chunk had already lost his beloved elderly owner, been shuttled from shelter to shelter and barely recovered from a bad case of kennel cough. The poor thing hadn’t even protested when Austin secured him for the journey, and he’d been a model passenger.
Now Chunk’s saggy brown gaze looked so forlorn from behind the bars that Austin could not take another moment. He figured the little guy had been caged long enough, since they’d been driving for more than four hours with only occasional pit stops. There was nothing worse, Austin was certain, than being stuck. He did not let his mind complete the comparison...just like you.
He rolled his ruined shoulder and received a jolt of pain for his effort. It wasn’t the time to contemplate his life wreckage at the moment. “Want to ride shotgun, old fella?”
Pulling the truck over, he freed Chunk from his carrier, clipped his harness to the belt and made a bed of his fleece jacket on the passenger seat. Before they loaded up again, they both enjoyed a stretch break as they took in the surroundings...a small nondescript community near the Stillwater ghost town in Nevada, the last leg of their journey from Furnace Falls in Death Valley. It was quiet, eerily so.
“You feel better now, sweetie pie?” Austin crooned. He would never use such outrageous baby talk in public, but he turned into a marshmallow around dogs, especially senior ones. That probably explained why he was a volunteer delivery guy for a service that matched sad old pups with people willing to adopt them. Most of the dogs had mobility problems...another comparison he would not indulge in. He could have flown his small plane as he usually did, but due to Chunk’s lung condition, the vet discouraged it. Road trip, it had to be. Why not? Spring in Death Valley was always full of surprises.
Chunk’s sigh ruffled his lips as he sank into a furry puddle and promptly went to sleep. The snoring commenced immediately. Austin was glad to see the dog resting comfortably. Since his doting owner had passed away, fourteen-year-old Chunk was adrift in the world, pining for his lost companion, shuttled from place to place until he landed at the Furnace Falls shelter.
“Things are looking up, boy, don’t you worry.” Austin admired the kind soul who had agreed to adopt the dog via Sunshine Senior Dog Rescue.
A kind soul... He couldn’t help the image that popped into his mind, blond-haired, soft-spoken Pilar. She would love any creature in the universe wholeheartedly.
Except you, Austin. She stopped loving you, didn’t she?
The inevitable depressing wave of memories spooled through his mind. Her crumpled wedding veil on the floor of the church, and the scattered pink petals from the bouquet she’d dropped as she fled. And what had he gotten by way of explanation? A text, of all things. Not even the courtesy of a phone call. I hope you can forgive me someday.
Forgive?
In the past six months since the debacle, his humiliation and hurt had given way to anger, a hard slab of it that lived in his heart under the genial, good-natured demeanor. Outwardly, he fought to be the same upbeat carpenter, quick to laugh, hungry for life and adventure. Inside, he didn’t even recognize his own thoughts anymore.
Pilar, his betrayer. If she hadn’t wanted to marry him, he could have thought up a good dozen ways she could have broken it to him without running from the altar like a scalded cat. Sure they’d had their problems, plenty of them since he’d wrecked his shoulder the year before, but he’d had no clue she was about to bolt.
No clue? He couldn’t quite make himself believe the lie. He’d hurt her plenty, trying to deal with his own mess. Still, there was no excuse for what she’d done.
Another memory, the two of them, discussing wallpaper for the house they would build someday. “Stripes,” he’d said. “Floral,” she’d come back with at exactly the same moment. And his ears still rang with the sound of their laughter. Little had he known that she would dump him at the altar a few months later, sending the ring back via the mail, postmarked from a town he’d never heard of, no return address.
He cleared his throat and turned on the windshield wipers. March weather in the Mojave Desert was unpredictable, and lately March storms had deluged Death Valley and beyond, including this gloomy Nevada town. He peered through the downpour as they closed in on their destination. Not much to see except an unimpressive main street that opened up into a small suburbia with aged apartments and single-family homes. He was surprised at the address on the paperwork he’d been given for Chunk’s new owner.
An apartment? No yard for a dog to run around? Of course Chunk wasn’t exactly a ball of energy, and small dogs could be happy with apartment living. When they finally arrived, the dog was snoring at an unbelievable volume. He consulted his paperwork. “Well, C. Bolt, whoever you are, I hope you have a good set of earplugs.” He parked.
The apartment looked like it had fallen upon hard times, the front window curtains tattered and the rocker on the front porch falling to bits. Concerning. Did the owner understand the medical bills that could sometimes accompany a senior dog adoption? The only bright spot in the scene was a sizzling pink flowering plant that he could not identify, but botanist Pilar would have known in a second. It was sprouting from a repurposed, hand-painted teapot.
You’ve got to believe in tomorrow if you’re a gardener, she’d said.
Tomorrow? She must have believed in a tomorrow that didn’t include him. You’re not thinking about her anymore, remember?
Wind blew wet leaves along the street. He felt a tingle of tension. Why? Nothing amiss on this quiet street. Yet, something seemed off. If he’d decided to fly the dog in his small plane, he would have been checking the plane twice, every light, every switch, until he identified the source of his unease. But his pilot’s instinct for trouble seemed like straight up paranoia in this slice of suburbia.
He rechecked the address on the printed email confirmation. Adoptee: C. Bolt, 300 West Sycamore, Unit 2. He shoved the paperwork in his back pocket, went around to the passenger side and picked up the sleepy dog. His shoulder twanged with pain, but he kept right on ignoring it. “Not my job to question your ne
Security conscious.
“Well, if they’re expecting you to perform guard dog activities, we might need to talk them out of that,” he said to Chunk.
He thumbed up his baseball cap and rang the bell.
There was no answer, but he was sure he heard someone moving inside. Or maybe he felt it? The first spit of rain hit his cheek. It wouldn’t be good for Chunk to get wet, in his fragile condition. Again he felt the flush of unease.
He rang a second time, speaking into the doorbell camera. “Hello? I’m a volunteer with Sunshine Senior Dog rescue. I brought the dog you arranged to adopt.”
Nothing.
He tried knocking. No response. “Hmm. Looks like we might have a situation here, Chunk.”
Chunk let out a soft whine and started to tremble. Austin cuddled him closer, pulling his windbreaker around the dog. His uncertainty flared higher. If things weren’t right, he would simply take the dog home. What was one more pet when he already had three? Not like he was traveling anywhere anytime soon. His sister, Willow, would tease him but fall in love with the dog anyway.
Two more knocks with no response. He pulled out his cell and dialed the number on the email confirmation. One shrill ring sounded inside before the phone was silenced.
So there was somebody inside who’d just shut off their cell phone rather than talk to him? Irritation flashed along his nerves. He had the cell phone number right, so was he being pranked? And who would do that to a poor, elderly dog with nowhere to go? “Mr. or Ms. Bolt? Are you in there?”
The seconds ticked by. He knew someone was inside, he could feel it. He tried to explain the situation again, speaking louder over the rain. Once more there was no answer. Austin shot a glance at a black sedan that drove down the street, windshield wipers clacking now that the rain was falling in earnest. He caught a whiff of cigar smoke through the slightly open window. It reminded him of his cigarette smoking days, a teen trying to be cool in front of his buddies. The car disappeared around the corner.
“All right, fine,” he said loudly. “I guess you changed your mind about the dog. You could have called instead of put him through a four-hour drive.”
He felt like an idiot talking to a doorbell, holding an elderly dog tight to his chest as he shielded him from the moisture. Chunk let out a quiet whimper. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered softly. “I’ll take care of you.”
He was about to leave when the light on the doorbell blinked and a high tinny voice spoke. “Who are you?”
He’d made contact. Excellent. “Name’s Austin. I’m with Sunshine Dog Rescue.”
“Who gave you this address?”
“I thought you did.” He waved the paper. “Is there someone with the last name of Bolt here?”
There was a long pause before the voice answered.
“No. I’m sorry.”
Sorry. Something in the voice, the tone. Had the curtains twitched? The back of his neck prickled, but there was nothing to be done. It wasn’t as if he could force whoever it was to open the door. If they didn’t want the dog, Chunk was better off without them, but they could have called to cancel, rather than pretending he’d got it all wrong.
The dark sedan appeared once again, trailing a stink of cigar smoke. Now the flutter of unease turned into a flash of foreboding. What was going on here? Whatever it was, he didn’t want to stick himself and an elderly dog in the middle of it. Adventure he loved. Drama, not so much.
“Can you at least confirm your cell phone number? I don’t want to keep bothering you if we got it wrong.” He began to rattle off the numbers.
He hadn’t finished reciting from the delivery form when the front door opened and a hand yanked him inside. Pain flashed through his shoulder. He stumbled and fell onto the yellowing tile entry, Chunk cocooned against him as the door slammed shut.
* * *
She quickly locked the door and raced to the living room and looked out. There it was, the sedan idling in the street. The rain prevented her from identifying the person behind the wheel through the falling rain. But she’d seen that sedan before a few days ago, the driver obscured by a cloud of cigar smoke. It wasn’t necessary to see his face to make the identification. Her heart thunked, overwhelmed by the car in the street and the man on the floor. What had she done pulling him into the house? But she couldn’t let him rattle off her cell phone number without the sedan driver hearing, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.
Dumb move. Now she had two problems instead of one.
She stayed to the side of the window, not daring to turn around to look. Finally, the sedan drove slowly away leaving her confused. Had she been wrong? Was it an innocent situation? A driver stopped to check a text? Paranoia? She was not sure she would be able to separate legitimate fear from paranoia even if her life depended on it, which it very well might.
She heard him get to his feet before he plunged into the living room, toting the dog.
“Do you always greet people by yanking them into your house?” he demanded.
She squeezed past him into the hallway where the twin mirrors reflected a terrified face from the white painted frames her mother had made. Maybe, just maybe, she looked different enough, her blond hair now black, fifteen pounds thinner thanks to the stress she’d endured, her nose and chin altered by the surgery. She scurried to the kitchen and double-checked that the back door was locked, the kitchen blinds levered closed.
He found her there, leaning against the stove in the dimmest corner. She was sure he must have heard her pulse slamming in her throat as she quickly turned away and fished a backpack out of the cupboard.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Mistake.”
“Do I at least get to know your name?” He put the ball of a dog on the floor.
“Amy.”
He cocked his head and looked at her so closely she started to sweat. It would be better, safer for both of them if she could get rid of him before the truth came out. Those same hazel eyes, the strong cheekbones, the hair so blond it was almost white. Nightmare.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.
If only she knew. “I didn’t ask for a dog.” Still angled away from him, she found a bowl, filled it with water and set it next to the pup. He waggled his stump of a tail and slurped it up. She had some dog biscuits in her car, kept there in case she ran across any strays, but she didn’t dare go around the back to retrieve any.
The hazel gaze darkened. “You seem familiar. Have we met?”
How she longed to come clean, but she had to do this to protect him, like she’d tried to do all along. She answered with a shake of the head. “Better if you go now,” she said, dropping the bottles of water from her last grocery delivery into the pack and adding granola bars and a stray candy bar. Still he stood there, staring.
“Please leave,” she said.
Instead, he unfurled a piece of paper with maddening slowness. “Adoptee called in and our secretary took down the info. It’s right here. Someone arranged for me to deliver this dog and if it’s not you, then how do you explain the address and phone number matching up? I can understand getting one or the other wrong, but not both. Both of them tell me I’m in the right place and there’s something weird going on here. You yanking me into the house is a pretty good indication too.”
An engine rumbled outside. Sucking in a breath, she hurried back to the living room and peered out from behind the curtain. The sedan again, driving slowly this time, turning down the alley between her building and the empty lot. Checking out the back where it would be easier to break in? Not her paranoia now. She had to run out the front. Head to the bus station. No choice.
As she sprinted back to the kitchen, she nearly plowed into Austin, who had been eyeing her. He put a hand out to steady her but she pulled back.
