Expired Cache

by Lisa Phillips

  For years, Professor Eleanor Ridgeman had been a bestselling author and respected lecturer. Why, now that she was back in her hometown, did she feel like that scared girl who’d been pushed around and hurt? Ellie had read enough memoirs to know most people regressed when faced with their childhood. Old habits, old patterns of behavior.

  Right now her life was in danger. She needed to be Professor Ridgeman. And yet here she was, little Ellie who couldn’t protect herself.

  She pushed the chair back and stood. Left the room, brave and capable. Just to pour two cups of coffee. Lame, but it was still a start. Baby steps and all that.

  Not that she was prepared to face down whoever was after her to make sure she didn’t fulfill her grandfather’s will. At least not right now.

  They’d tried to scare her off. Professor Ridgeman wasn’t going to accept that. History was there to be uncovered, no matter how ugly. It showed humanity what it was made of. Strength. Bravery. Selfishness. Pride. All of it. The past didn’t pull any punches. But it also couldn’t hurt her. Not the way that the present always seemed to be able to.

  Ellie’s instincts told her to run and hide again. She was the one who always got hurt.

  Dean touched her shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

  “I feel like I’m losing it.” She didn’t care if he thought she was crazy. “Thinking about myself like I’m two different people. Ellie, who is currently back at home and sleeping in her childhood bed. And Professor Ridgeman, who is determined to publish another book and make her department chair—with his sticky hands—eat his words about how I’m a ‘one hit wonder.’”

  How did Tumbleweed know she couldn’t do it? He hadn’t even seen her try.

  “Do you have any idea how cute you are right now?”

  She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Ellie, or Professor Ridgeman.”

  He chuckled. “Both.”

  “Well…I don’t know what to say about that. But—”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “There’s a lot of work to do, and you should get back to it.”

  She frowned. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m aware of what a brush-off sounds like.”

  “Who gave you the brush-off?” Ellie gaped. “Was she crazy?”

  Why would anyone do that to a guy like him? Such a good guy. Strong, brave, and handsome. It was like he wasn’t even real. As if her dreams had conjured him into being just so she would have her dream guy there to protect her.

  He started to laugh.

  “Are you real? Maybe I’ve lost my mind.”

  “If you have, it’s possible I have too.”

  She said, “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never in my life seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

  Ellie blinked. It wasn’t eye strain this time. She didn’t know what to do…or what to say. He thought she was beautiful? She wanted to believe it, but the last time someone had said those words to her, it had been a trick.

  His tablet started ringing.

  Ellie jumped on the change of subject. “Is that for cabin security?”

  “No.” Dean frowned at the screen. “This is for here.”

  “What?” The word came out squeaky and barely discernible. “You have cameras here?”

  “Of course.” He stared at the screen. “There’s someone in the backyard, headed for the house.” He angled the tablet to her so she could see the image. “It’s pretty fuzzy. I don’t have the budget for high-quality stuff since I’m saving for my therapy center.”

  Ellie looked at the screen.

  He said, “Is this the guy you saw by the car?”

  She studied the moving image. Dean’s body was warm. Even though she wasn’t touching him, she still felt the heat radiate. More comfort he offered her without even knowing it. “It could be. Dark clothes and his hood pulled up. I’d have to say it’s possible. But it’s also not possible for me to say for sure.”

  “Unless I catch him.” His eyebrows lifted, and she realized he looked happy at the challenge. “Do me a favor? Get in the tub and stay there until I come to get you. You do not leave it.”

  “I…what?”

  “The bathtub, Ellie.” He pulled a second gun from his backpack and handed it to her. “Take this. It’s loaded, so try not to shoot me after I catch this guy, yeah?”

  “Uh…”

  “And call Savannah. You have your phone?”

  She nodded.

  “Call it in. Get in the bathtub.”

  He strode to the front door. “I wanna see you go in there.”

  Ellie pulled her phone from her back pocket and hustled to the bottom of the stairs. She glanced back at him. Her hero. “Dean.” She didn’t know what to say.

  He nodded. “Be safe, okay?”

  “You too.”

  She raced up the stairs, dialing the police department’s emergency number as she went. In her other hand she held a loaded gun.

  While Dean went outside and tried to catch a bad guy.

  Sixteen

  Dean sprinted around the house. He reached over the gate and unlatched it, then pulled it open barely an inch.

  A man in blue jeans and a heavy sweater with the hood pulled up made his way across the backyard. He was similar to the description Ellie had given him of the man she’d seen. Could be the same guy. Dean would find out either way. When he caught the man.

  He holstered his gun and pulled a stun weapon he’d brought.

  His footsteps were silent as he rounded the corner and moved toward the man, not about to allow him to even reach the back door—let alone get inside.

  This was no career criminal. And neither did he have any formal training. The man didn’t even notice as Dean approached. Kind of like the way Ellie had been, sitting on the study floor reading, completely oblivious. But for a completely different reason, this guy never even saw Dean.

  “Hey.”

  The man flinched and turned. Twitchy was the word that came to mind.

  Dean held the stun gun aimed at his torso. “You’re trespassing.”

  The man’s gaze darted around. After a second deliberation, which Dean saw in his expression, he reached to the back of his waistband. Going for a gun?

  “Hands where I can see them.”

  In the distance, Dean heard police sirens. Good. Ellie had called for help, and the cops were responding fast to the family member of one of their own.

  The man heard the sound as well. He continued to pull out what had to be a gun.

  Dean fired before he even got the thing up.

  The man’s body jerked, and he made the muffled outcry of someone reacting to a high-voltage electrical charge surging through his body. The gun fell to the ground.

  Dean kicked it onto the grass. The guy flailed. His hand caught Dean’s chin.

  For a second, stars sparked across his vision. Dean grabbed the wrist, spun the guy around, and slammed him against the wall of the house.

  He pocketed the stun gun and used a zip tie he’d brought with him to secure the guy, hands behind his back.

  “Cartwright?”

  “Clear!” Dean followed that up by calling out. “Suspect apprehended.” He wasn’t a cop, but he spoke the lingo. In the SEALs, this would be a checkpoint. The time to radio in, mission completion.

  But he was no longer a SEAL, at least not on paper.

  He didn’t often miss it. Except when adrenaline rolled through him like this, and he felt that rush of mission success.

  “Hey.” Basuto holstered his gun and came over. “Nice job.”

  Dean hauled the guy toward the sergeant, who took custody of him.

  “Weapon in the grass.” Dean wasn’t going to touch it. Instead he moved to the back door and used the spare key he’d pocketed to unlock it and let himself inside so he could tell Ellie it was all clear.

  His hands shook. Dean turned back to Basuto and told the big man, “I want to talk to him before you take him away.”

  “Detective Wilcox is on
her way. Any questions you have, she’ll do the asking.”

  “Copy that.” As long as Dean got to be there, he wasn’t going to argue. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the bathroom door. “Ellie, it’s Dean.”

  He heard a movement and muttering, then she opened the door. “You caught him?”

  Dean nodded. “It’s all clear.” He took the gun from her hand and tucked it back in his holster. He needed to unload all his weapons now that tonight’s operation was complete. The smell of sweat and the rush of adrenaline brought with it too many memories to let it linger around him.

  Ellie stepped into his personal space and slid her arms around his waist.

  Dean’s brain had to catch up with the fact she was giving him a hug, and then he slid his arms around her. “It’s okay.”

  “You’re not hurt.” She looked up at him, her face close. “I mean, aside from your shoulder.”

  He didn’t mind admitting, “It does not feel good.”

  She moved around him. “I don’t see any blood on the back of your shirt.”

  Her hands lifted his shirt, and he stilled. “Ellie—”

  “Whoa.”

  He swallowed, not able to speak. And not for a pleasant reason, like a rush of attraction. That was there underneath it. But she was seeing the…damage was a good word. New and old. He figured none of it looked pretty.

  “Dean.” Her warm palm touched the center of his back.

  He had to clear his throat. “I twisted while I was securing the guy.”

  She lifted his shirt past his shoulder blades. “Ouch. Though it occurs to me that I’m not the one here who is a medical professional, it might be good to have one look at it. Because if my back looked this bruised, I would either be passed out or curled up in a ball, crying.”

  “I’ll call the doc when I get a minute.” She lowered his shirt. He turned around, saying, “Usually people call me for stuff like this, so they don’t bother him.”

  “Well, I’m bothered. So you should call.”

  Dean studied the slight smile curling her lips. “I’m okay, Ellie. The guy is in police hands now. He won’t be hurting you.”

  “Dean! Ellie!”

  He said, “That’s Wilcox.”

  Ellie nodded. “I guess we should go downstairs.”

  Dean couldn’t resist. He touched his lips to her forehead again. He just needed to—for a number of reasons he didn’t have time to list. Then he headed downstairs first, wondering if she knew why he’d done it. He wasn’t trying to start a relationship with her. But he cared about her and was here to make her safe. It was about solidarity. Shared fear. Shared relief. The fact she seemed to care about him as well.

  Detective Wilcox stood in the foyer.

  “Basuto has him outside?”

  Savannah nodded. “You guys okay?”

  Ellie said, “Dean had me hide in the bathtub with his gun.”

  The detective glanced at him.

  “One of them, anyway.” He shrugged.

  Savannah said, “Is that the point here?”

  Ellie said, “Am I missing something? Was Dean not supposed to do that?”

  Wilcox said to her, “I’m just glad you’re both safe. Dean caught the guy, and I can close this case.”

  Dean wasn’t so sure it was that cut and dry. “We should talk to him. I’m thinking he’s not the mastermind, and we already have a theory this involves more than one person.”

  “I don’t think it’s a theory,” Ellie said. “It’s a fact. I was threatened by one person on the phone while another stood on the side of the street and did the in-person threatening. And that man wasn’t the same one talking on the phone. I didn’t even see his phone. That means I was threatened by two people.”

  “Then we definitely need to talk to him.”

  Wilcox said, “Because the two of you are working my case?”

  Dean shrugged. “Just being helpful citizens.”

  “He’s threatening me,” Ellie pointed out. “I would like to know who is behind it, since I’ve nearly died a couple of times now. And this guy hurt Dean’s shoulder.”

  She was right. No way had that been an accident.

  Ellie cared about him. Dean glanced at her, wondering if he’d ever felt such pleasurable satisfaction from such simple words said by a woman he cared for. He didn’t think he had. Because right now he wanted to hold on to Ellie Ridgeman and not let go.

  If he’d had this kind of feeling before, he would probably be married right now.

  “Does Jess know about this?” Wilcox waved a finger between them.

  Dean pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about. “We really should talk to that guy.”

  Wilcox looked like she wanted to laugh.

  Ellie said, “My sister is busy with a case. And I’m a grown woman. I’m not required to explain myself or my life to her.”

  Wilcox held up both hands. “Okay. I hit a nerve. Sorry.”

  Ellie held her chin up, but he spotted a tremble in her mouth. As much as he had to admit he was falling fast and hard for her, she had to be the one who made the move with him. He couldn’t keep pushing things with her, or he would be persuading her around to his way of thinking instead of allowing her to make up her mind about him and what she wanted.

  “It’s been a long day.” Dean said, “If we get a chance to talk to that guy, we’ll be able to relax. Get some sleep.”

  Wilcox led them outside into the nighttime chill. It was cold enough he shivered, even while sweat rolled down his forehead. Dean swiped it away.

  He felt Ellie’s fingers brush his other hand and looked over. She mouthed, Thank you, which confused him since she’d said that already. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his feelings in check with her, but he needed to.

  Not only did he want Ellie to take a step toward him, but he also had to keep his focus. He would protect her, but he was also working on the therapy center. A new venture like that wouldn’t leave time for a relationship.

  This was getting more complicated the longer he stuck with it—and her. Now he’d seen that Vietnam era photo, he knew he needed to find his father, and quick. He had to find out from his old man, pictured in that photo with her grandfather, what he might know about all this. There was nothing else he wanted from the man. Just information that would help him keep Ellie safe.

  He didn’t care that his father had been a Marine.

  Dean gritted his teeth. It doesn’t matter. All he wanted was information. His dad didn’t mean anything to him.

  Basuto held on to the suspect. Dean stopped at a greater distance than he would have otherwise, knowing Ellie would stop beside him. He didn’t want her close to the guy.

  Wilcox said, “So what was the plan, huh? Wave that gun you had around and scare her, or something else?”

  The guy only smirked.

  “Either way, it didn’t work. Guess it’s all over.”

  “I still paid my debt.”

  “This was a favor? Someone you owed?”

  “Farmed out like every other thug in this town, right? That’s what you guys think.” His teeth flashed in the light spilling from the house. “Just another ‘boy’ West has, out doing his bidding. Keeping you all scrambling.”

  “So you owed him, and he sent you here? What does West want with Ellie?”

  Dean’s whole body tensed. A local crime lord, and Ellie had his attention? That couldn’t be good.

  The guy blew out a breath. “Nothin’ ‘cept another favor owed. She gets roughed up, told to leave it alone. Whatever happens, you guys see my sweater they told me to wear and think I’m it.” He chuckled. “He thought that was a good touch. Getting a hoodie for me to wear. He thought you especially would like that. Old times, or something?”

  Dean said, “What is he talking about?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Wilcox folded her arms. “This isn’t the top of the food chain. Ellie is still in danger because this guy—” She motioned to the s
uspect. “—is nothing to us.”

  “Ouch.” The guy sniffed. “I’m someone.”

  “Yeah, someone who is going to tell me who West is.”

  The name clicked with Dean. Something Stuart had said, the argument those two bikers had. Could Karl Tenor’s death behind the biker bar have something to do with the police department’s hunt for a local bad guy? This “West” person?

  “Now.” Wilcox’s tone invited no argument.

  The guy said, “You think I know?” He laughed. “No one knows who he is.”

  “Get him out of here.”

  Basuto walked the guy to his cop car. Wilcox turned. “I’ll get something from him.”

  She looked mad. About the hoodie thing? He didn’t get that, but it was clear Wilcox didn’t like to be manipulated any more than anyone else did.

  “At least we know not to relax right now but to stay vigilant.” Dean said, “That much is for sure. Like how this is getting more complicated by the second? And it doesn’t originate with whoever this West person is.”

  Savannah nodded. “We’re working on that.”

  “I want to talk to my grandfather’s lawyer again.” Ellie said, “He’s…older, and they were friends. Maybe he knows what this is about.”

  “That’s going to be hard,” Wilcox said. “His wife filed a missing person’s this morning.”

  Seventeen

  Ellie saw her sister climb out of her car on the drive. She met her at the door, opening it before Jess could knock. She pressed her index finger to her lips. “He’s asleep.”

  “He’s supposed to be protecting you.” Jess dumped her backpack on the entryway floor and took off her jacket.

  “He is, that’s why he’s injured and exhausted.” She waved her sister into the kitchen, where she’d mixed up a batch of blueberry muffins. Not scratch, but neither of them knew how to bake aside from watching people do it on TV.

  “How long have you been unprotected?”

  Ellie slid the muffin tray in the oven. Thankfully the beeping or the sound of her moving around in the kitchen and mixing it up with a bowl and wooden spoon old-school style hadn’t woken him. The guy had to be exhausted. In pain, because he hadn’t wanted anything more than regular pain meds.