Expired Cache

by Lisa Phillips

  That living didn’t hurt.

  She looked over at Dean. He’d served for years—she didn’t know how many—as a Navy SEAL. He knew what it meant to fight and bleed for his country. “What do you think?”

  He glanced at her.

  “Why would someone who’d served hide everything from that time away in a closet? Why not just throw it out?”

  “He wants to be proud. But he can’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Everything he saw,” Dean said. “Everything he did. It’s still all there in his head, and he just can’t smile and nod and pretend it’s all fine. Because it isn’t.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  “Did he seem okay to you?”

  Jess swung around. “Are you serious?”

  “He looked overly flushed. Was he sweating?” Maybe his injury was worsening. Like an infection, or maybe being flung around when the cabin exploded had made it worse. Did she need to worry that Dean might need to go to the hospital?

  “Oh,” Jess said, “you mean like he might be sick or something?”

  Ellie said, “What do you think I meant? I’m just worried that’s all. What’s the big deal?”

  “Wow. For someone so smart, you can be obtuse about what’s right in front of your nose. And I’m not talking about whatever book you’re reading right now.” Jess glanced at the door. “I almost feel sorry for the guy. Or, I would if I liked him.”

  “Don’t be mean to him, Jess. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Now you’re defending him. After he lied to you?”

  Ellie realized she was. “He’s exhausted and injured. He’s been protecting me this whole time, and I’m the only one involved in this who is so far unscathed. And I’m the target.”

  She needed to get back to her research so she could figure this out. But that only brought to light what someone wanted hidden. So it didn’t get her out of danger. It arguably would put all of them in even more danger.

  Did she want to give this up? Not really. She felt like she was racing the clock, needing to figure out what the secret was. If that was even possible after the cabin had been destroyed. And she had to do it before what she still had was destroyed as well.

  She found Dean in the second bedroom, which was more of a storage room, given the boxes. But on the wall hung a framed picture. A map of Last Chance.

  “The house is okay, right? Your surveillance stuff is still up and running, and no one else has tried to break in?”

  He turned to her. Sweating and flushed, he definitely wasn’t all right. “The surveillance is still running, yes. Nothing has triggered it.”

  Yet.

  She heard that unspoken word. “I’d like to get back there as soon as possible.”

  Did he have a fever? Maybe his stitches or one of the other injuries he had was infected now. She didn’t know a lot about medicine, but her study of history told her exactly how dangerous things could be if left untreated.

  And he was exactly the kind of man to try and convince them all that he was fine. Even when he needed at least to sit down and rest.

  He reached up and swiped at his forehead with his sleeve.

  Ellie bit back what she wanted to say. “Let’s head out soon.” She started to turn, but something about the map snagged her attention.

  She moved to it. “Huh.”

  Dean said nothing.

  She stared at the lines and swirls. The town, and the area surrounding it. She found the spot where her grandfather’s cabin was located. “This is…”

  “What?”

  “I saw a map exactly like this on the wall in the coffee shop. But it seems…off somehow.” She shook her head. “It was probably made by a different person.”

  “You have a photographic memory?”

  “No, but I retain nearly everything that I hear or see. It’s more like I get a sense of the overall picture, and not every line and detail like someone with an eidetic memory.”

  “So you’re just super smart.”

  “As are you.” She turned then, determined to make peace. “To have all the medical training you do. The emergency medical work you do, and the therapy. That’s a lot of very different kinds of knowledge, and skills.”

  Even though she wanted peace, there was no hope of a relationship between them. She could accept that now.

  Everyone had a right to privacy, and she knew how it felt to want to keep something to yourself. No one had the right to any part of her life that she didn’t want to give them. If Dean didn’t want to share with her about his father, that was his right. Which made it none of her business.

  He’d been right to act as though they had separate lives. Their lives were separate, and there was no way they’d be able to mesh them. There were things they would never know about each other. Even if she stayed for a while. Long term, they lived across the country from each other. They both had busy schedules, and that precluded time that a relationship would need. It just wouldn’t work between them.

  And then there was Jess. Ellie didn’t want to complicate what was going on between Jess and Ted—though she was pretty sure her sister was in love with him—by complicating things with herself and Dean. That was far too much drama for her liking, especially because she just wanted to get to the place where she could work on her book.

  Her career had to be her focus right now, or what had her work all these years been for?

  Jess stood in the doorway. “Anything?”

  Ellie shrugged. “Not that I can find.”

  “I didn’t think so, but it was worth a look.”

  “So there wasn’t any point in coming here?”

  It was Jess’s turn to shrug. “If I had covered something up, I wouldn’t leave any evidence pointing to what it is. Or where I buried it.”

  “But you’re a cop, so you know about evidence.”

  “So was grandpa. Which means if he was involved, then he made sure nothing could be found that would leave a trail back to him. It could’ve ruined his whole life and his career.”

  “So he was a dirty cop?”

  Jess bristled. “It depends on what happened. And what his part in it was. And if anyone other than you had made that accusation, I’d probably punch them. So you’re going to want to be careful who you say stuff like that around. Especially at the police station.”

  Ellie sighed. She lowered her voice to say, “If we can’t convince Dean he needs to see a doctor, then we need to get him somewhere he can rest.”

  Jess glanced down the hall, even though Dean wasn’t there anymore. Hopefully he was out of earshot. Her sister said, “I’ll call the sergeant. He can have someone watch the house while you research and Dean gets some sleep.”

  “Can you call a doctor, too? See if they’ll make a house call.” She was banking on the town’s appreciation of everything Dean did, and that it would induce someone to help him out when he needed it.

  Jess yelled, “Time to go!”

  Ellie winced. “You didn’t need to yell in my ear. I’m standing right here.” Before they left, she took a photo of the map with her phone. Later, she could figure out what it was about it that she couldn’t put her finger on.

  Twenty-Two

  Dean blinked awake. He sat up on the couch and groaned as his shoulder protested the movement. His whole body felt feverish, and he’d sweat through his shirt. Since there was no one in view, he pulled a clean shirt from his bag and switched it out. Someone behind him cleared their throat.

  When he spun around, Ellie stood on the other side of the couch.

  He couldn’t read the look on her face. “Everything okay?”

  She swallowed. “I’m calling the doctor about your shoulder.” She turned away, cheeks flushed. “There’s coffee, and my breakfast casserole is almost ready.”

  “Copy that.” Except for the doctor part. “I’ll call the doc myself, though.”

  “If I believed you, I might agree.”

  He trailed after her instead of going for
the coffee. While she sat back down at her computer set on her grandfather’s desk, Dean pulled out his phone and called the doctor, leaving a voicemail while Ellie watched him. He couldn’t help but smirk even though he felt awful. The ache in his shoulder was persistent enough he needed someone to look at it. But only because he couldn’t treat the back of his shoulder.

  When he was done, he stowed the phone.

  “Thank you.”

  The oven timer let out a long beep. Dean said, “I’ll get breakfast dished up so you don’t have to stop what you’re doing.”

  “Double thank you.”

  He smiled to himself as he wandered back to the kitchen, retrieving his gun from the coffee table on his way. Things had been hairy, and it wasn’t worth being caught unarmed. Basuto had been replaced by Officer Frees since Dean fell asleep.

  He didn’t mind the extra backup. It wasn’t an assessment of his skills. Not when he was pretty sure he should have taken the prescription the doctor offered him when he’d checked Dean’s shoulder for internal injury. In case he got an infection. Guess I wasn’t going to avoid that one. He could’ve done without it, probably. But he’d hit the dirt getting blown up. At least, that was what he was going to assume made him feel worse today than he had yesterday.

  Dean poured two coffees and served the breakfast casserole, the smell of bacon making his stomach rumble. As he balanced it all in two hands and went to the office, his phone rang in his pocket.

  He set it down and pulled his cell, expecting it to be the doctor. Instead it was Savannah.

  “Cartwright.”

  “It’s Wilcox. Got a minute?”

  “Yep.” Dean took his mug and plate to the office couch, watching Ellie eat with one hand while she stared at the computer screen. “What’s up, Detective?”

  “While Ted is ID-ing everyone in that photo, I went and spoke with your friend Stuart.”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t want to be too eager to ask her if she could clear him, or what she’d found out about that man’s death. But he did know they had the second biker, the one he’d been arguing with, in custody. Dean just wasn’t sure if that was related to the man’s death, or about a separate incident, or even an ongoing argument.

  “He may have witnessed what happened and can corroborate the suspect’s statement, but that doesn’t make him reliable. As much as I’d like it to be otherwise. For his sake and the sake of my case.”

  “The guy you picked up, that’s your suspect?”

  “Jess brought him in, but yeah.” Savannah said, “He had the murder weapon in his car. Confessed to shooting his friend. I’d love independent evidence to corroborate that, but that’s just me. The county prosecutor will take it.”

  Dean swallowed a bite of cheesy egg. “So Stuart is clear?”

  “He said he was going to visit his sister.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Does he have a sister?”

  Dean said, “He’s okay. That’s what counts. Right?”

  He figured the rest was need-to-know. It might have been a while since Stuart had been a CIA operative, but he’d probably never shake those covert ways of doing things. Visiting his sister meant he was headed out of town for rest. Probably on his own, backpacking through the forests around Last Chance.

  Who knew how long he’d be solo camping? Dean figured it would be at least until he finished processing the idea that he might have killed someone in Last Chance and not remembered it.

  Savannah made a noncommittal sound and hung up the phone.

  Dean saw a missed call from the doctor, which had been followed up with a text. He would come over. Dean sent the address.

  He wondered about bringing the doctor—or anyone, really—here to the Ridgeman house. Who knew the identity of the persons targeting Ellie? He needed to keep her safe. But did he really suspect the doctor of having anything to do with it? Unless he was one of the founders, there was no reason he should be on the list of suspects.

  He honestly disliked the fact he was suspecting the doctor at all. The man hadn’t ever given any impression he wasn’t a good guy before. He needed to examine why he suspected the man of bad intent now, but he needed all his focus to keep Ellie safe.

  At least he had police backup. Just in case. If the doctor suddenly changed his tune from overwhelming support of Dean’s life and work to trying something that put Ellie in danger, help was close by. There were cops outside. More would come within minutes.

  “Huh.”

  Dean needed to stretch his legs again, so he got his coffee and wandered around the desk to look over Ellie’s shoulder. “You have something?”

  She glanced at him and blinked. “Oh, uh. Maybe.”

  “What’s the maybe?”

  “This is the map from Holmford’s house.” She pointed to the left image with her index finger. “The other is a photo Jess took of the map on the wall in the coffee shop.”

  He studied them, realizing she was right about this being the same map. “They look identical.”

  “There are some minor differences, but I don’t know if they mean anything.” She leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I keep coming back to what Jess said. That if she was the one trying to cover something up, she sure wouldn’t leave clues that lead right back to it.”

  “Unless it was the only way to ensure someone found out about everything without alerting the person you’re trying to hide your actions from.”

  She frowned.

  “You know there is more than one person involved. From the photo, we can surmise it’s at least two, if not more. Could be all of them, but also might be a smaller group.”

  “Like my grandfather and Mr. Holmford.”

  Dean nodded. “So if one was the ringleader and pressured the rest into being involved in something…could be one or more of the others left ways for it to be discovered. Like an insurance policy.”

  “So by mutual agreement, they all keep quiet in order to keep them all from getting in trouble for it.”

  “Except your grandfather got sick and passed away. Leaving the truth to you, so it can finally come out.”

  She chewed on her lip for a while, then sighed. “While you were asleep, Sergeant Basuto brought a tablet over and I looked through mugshots. But since I didn’t get such a good view of that guy in the hoodie, I didn’t see anyone in them that I thought was him.”

  Dean nodded. “It’s good that you looked.”

  “But I could have found him, and I didn’t.”

  “It’s not your fault. He doesn’t want you to know who he is,” Dean said. “So why give you a good glimpse of his face?”

  “True.” She smoothed down the material of her black skinny pants over her knee. “I don’t like being scared.” She looked up. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

  “Who says I’m hurt?”

  “The massive bruise on your shoulder.”

  He said, “Nah, I’ve had worse than that as a SEAL. You think a bruise is going to slow me down?”

  “Maybe not, but an infection—or whatever it is—has knocked you on your butt. You were out for about eighteen hours. I was getting worried. Bill called like four times to check up on you.”

  “He did?”

  She nodded.

  “Huh. I’ll have to get him a gift card. There’s this diner just outside of town, and they do the best pies.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “The huckleberry with ice cream is my favorite.”

  “I’m a chocolate peanut butter kind of guy.” Dean couldn’t resist saying, “A smile looks good on you. When all this is done I hope to see it more.”

  “I’m supposed to spend the summer in New Hampshire working on my book, but I haven’t confirmed anything yet. Then I thought maybe I’d do it in my grandfather’s cabin...that’s now nothing but rubble.” She shook her head. “It’s all up in the air now. Not that I’m going to tell Professor Tumbleweed that. He’ll tell me I’m only making excuses.”

  “You like
what you do?”

  “I figure there are good and bad aspects to every job.”

  Dean nodded. “True.”

  “I’ve always been a history buff. One day I’m going to pen an epic historical tome. A tragedy and a romance so all those people who told me I can’t write emotion can eat my words. I’m going to write about a monumental battle where nearly everyone dies.”

  He started to laugh.

  She shoved at his knee, grinning. “It’s definitely going to be one of those endless literary affairs that’s long enough it can double as a door stop because it’s as heavy as a brick. And no doubt I’ll win numerous awards for it.”

  “You’ll have to sign a copy for me. A first edition.”

  “Maybe I will.” She folded her arms, lifting her chin. “Who knows?”

  He liked the idea of that, and nodded. “Who knows.”

  There was hope there. And maybe a measure of promise of what could be. It meant the book wasn’t closed on what might happen between Dean and Ellie. If he could keep her safe, and get them both through this without any more mishaps, then anything could happen.

  And that was a wonderful, faith-filled place to be.

  Is that what you want, Lord? For me to wonder. To hope and wait.

  Ellie scrolled through pages of the website for the local paper. “If the founders’ story is as mysterious as this reporter makes it out to be, maybe I’ll write the story of Last Chance.”

  He always figured a mystery meant the reporter had found nothing, so they made it sound like there was this big mystery. Though, in the case of Last Chance it might be close to the truth.

  He said, “If you’re writing about Last Chance, you’d have to be here. Right? That means staying longer. Maybe rebuilding the cabin?”

  She shrugged one shoulder.

  “Would you quit the university to stay here?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s been wonderful being a professor. Right now, thinking about it, I’m having trouble concentrating on the good parts. But that’s just the mood I’m in with everything going crazy.”