Expired Cache

by Lisa Phillips

  Eliminate.

  This wasn’t the first time the mission might require him to take a life. He knew he could do it if the situation forced his hand. However, he’d thought he left that behind when he walked away from the Navy.

  If the team were here, he’d have them all helping. Using their skills to set up a takedown. But they weren’t. Which meant Dean was on his own. His job, his way.

  Much better than a bunch of cops tromping up this trail with them.

  “Everything okay?”

  He whipped his head from the terrain behind him, around to her, and almost bumped into her. She’d stopped the steady pace she’d kept up for nearly an hour, up ahead of him on the trail. Sunlight made her hair shine. “Sure,” he said. “Everything’s fine with me. How about you?”

  She pushed her glasses up her nose. “You seem nervous, looking around constantly like a squirrel is going to jump out and bite you.”

  “I’m thinking it’ll be a little bigger than a squirrel.” When she didn’t back down and didn’t continue, he said, “Head on a swivel.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Keep going, and I’ll tell you.” He nodded her onward. When she turned and kept going, he scanned around them again. Just to be sure the trap wasn’t about to snap shut—on him.

  “Well?” She kept walking.

  “Situational awareness. You never know which direction danger is going to come from. Given how fast bullets fly, you’ll hit the floor dead before you even realize what’s happening. So you keep your head on a swivel. Trying to circumvent some of the danger by being aware of everything. Then you’ll spot inconsistencies. Danger lying in wait.”

  Her shoulder’s stiffened, but to her credit she didn’t seem to give in to the fear.

  “Which is why I’m here, and you don’t have to worry.”

  After years spent trying to run from that part of himself—the warrior—right now, Dean was actually glad it was in him.

  Now all he needed was…there.

  He kept the swivel. Made it look like he hadn’t seen it. When he circled back around to that spot, he gave it a second.

  Definitely a dark figure. Moving through the forest to their left, tracking their progress up the path. To do that, he had to be close enough to see them. Which meant Dean could also see him.

  This person had no military training. Not even police training or anything else. Hunters wanted to be seen by people, not animals. That kept them safe. This guy had on a dark jacket and a ball cap. Dean could camouflage himself in such a way no one would see him until he was right on top of them.

  He could let fly with the knife on his belt and nail this guy. If he came just a little bit closer.

  After he’d strangled and terrorized Ellie, what did he expect? Clearly he knew nothing about Navy SEALs.

  “You look a little…bloodthirsty.”

  “Good.” Dean scanned the forest, tracking the guy’s movements. “That’s what is going to catch this guy and keep you alive.”

  Not just alive. Untouched, if he had anything to say about it.

  “O-kay.”

  “Don’t worry, Ellie.”

  “I’m not,” she said, sounding a whole lot more confident. “Because I just found what we’re looking for.”

  She came to a stop on the side of the mountain. More of a foothill really, considering he’d climbed much higher peaks than this. Hauling a whole lot more gear.

  Should he have brought his rifle?

  No. That sent a visual message. He needed this guy to keep believing he was unaware, untrained. A washed-up, former military therapist who dabbled in emergency medicine. Dean grinned. His God-given skills were going to come in handy, soon as he found a good spot to set up an ambush.

  Maybe he should have Ellie pretend to sprain her ankle. Or him, even. There was an idea.

  “Dean. It’s a cave.”

  “Huh?” He looked around her and saw the entrance. “A mine. Let’s get inside.”

  She would be protected, and he’d face down their pursuer. Thank You, God. His skills plus God’s leading. There was no way this would fail.

  “There are a lot of signs.” She crossed the rocky terrain to the entrance. Little bigger than a barn door, signs had been nailed to posts on either side. “No trespassing. Danger, falling rocks.” She read them all.

  “Great.” He ushered her toward the opening. “Let’s get out of view.”

  She took two steps and spun around. “What’s going on here?”

  “Someone is following us. Move away from the entrance.” He pulled a flashlight, flicked it on and handed it to her, then grabbed another and pulled his gun. He secured his flashlight to the top of his weapon. “Don’t shine the beam outside. I want him to wonder where we went.”

  Until he saw the entrance. Then he would know where they’d gone.

  “Someone is following us.” Her words were quiet. Breathy.

  He didn’t like the fear he heard. “I’m protecting you, remember.”

  “But he’s coming,” she hissed.

  Dean touched her shoulder. “Go deeper into the cave. Be careful, and don’t go far. I don’t want you out of earshot.” He also didn’t want her to get hurt.

  “While you do…what?”

  “Catch his guy.” He grinned at her, not sure she could see his face since the light was to his back and probably left his face shadowed. “As soon as he steps into the trap I’m about to set.”

  “Oh. Is that a good idea?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Because of your shoulder, and he’s…” She didn’t finish.

  “There’s no reason to be scared when I’m standing between you and this guy.” He stepped closer to her, and their flashlight beams lit each other’s faces. “Don’t worry, Ellie. I’ve got this, and he isn’t going to touch you again.”

  “I’m not up here to catch him. I’m up here to find whatever they hid.”

  She’d been right earlier about one thing. If it was him, whatever had been buried would have been destroyed way before now. There would be nothing left to find.

  So why the worry, if there was nothing to find?

  He figured the threats were to keep her from reading too much into her grandfather’s writings—what he’d left for her. A concentrated effort most likely triggered by the lawyer reading the will. Holmford probably tipped off whoever was doing this. Snitched on Ellie and Jess, which only backfired on him. Then they’d beaten him and left him for dead in the cabin. Maybe to make it look like he was involved.

  Instead, they’d revealed his affiliation as a founder to Jessica and Dean. But at the same time, he managed to keep him from talking since he was still unconscious.

  “You think this is a wild goose chase.”

  Dean started to object. “No. That’s not—”

  “I’m going to look around. I don’t need your help, and you’re busy playing bodyguard anyway. You catch this guy, and I’ll be fine.”

  Dean had to follow her. “Yeah, you will be. That’s exactly the plan.”

  “But you only agreed to come up here so you could…what? Draw him out.”

  She was smart. He’d give her that.

  It was likely he’d never be able to pull one over on her. She would ruin any chance of him throwing her a surprise birthday party.

  “Ellie, slow down. I’m coming with you.”

  There was no way either of them should be walking around in here. Not when it was potentially unstable, and with no cell signal. He had a satellite phone and a police radio in his backpack, so there was the highest chance he’d be able to call for help if needed. So long as he could get outside.

  Keep us safe.

  “Can this wait?” He padded after her, but she was moving fast. “After I get this guy, we can look all around down here. But I’d like to make the situation safe first. Otherwise we can’t look thoroughly enough while distracted.”

  “You’re the one distracted,” she fired back over
her shoulder. Charging forward with confident strides in a place she’d never been before wasn’t going to end well. Even with the flashlight illuminating her way.

  The walls narrowed in a way he didn’t like. Then they parted, and he had to wait while she decided which way to go.

  “Please let’s go back. You can hold up somewhere, and I’ll get the drop on whoever was following us. Please.” It was worth a try.

  “No.” She shook her head, charging forward into one of the tunnels with no apparent rhyme or reason to her decision. “I’m so close.”

  Maybe she did know where she was going. It was possible she’d seen or read something that informed her decision. He didn’t know how her brain worked. Perhaps the knowledge was subconscious, and she just followed her instinct.

  Dean glanced back. When he looked ahead again, she’d disappeared. “Ellie.” He wanted to throw a tantrum in frustration, but he was a grown man. “Ellie!”

  “In here.”

  He took a few more steps and saw the side room. It opened back on itself, so the person in the tunnel couldn’t see in the room. Likewise, the person in the room couldn’t see the tunnel. A blind corner.

  “What is this place?” It wasn’t a mine. That much was for sure.

  “Could be an old cave. Maybe even from before the gold rush. Before the white man first walked on these mountains. I’d have to do some research into the history of this area and talk to the tribes.” She sounded sad, all of a sudden. “But that’s not what concerns me.”

  The room domed up on the ceiling until he could see a tiny funnel of light at the very top. A vent hole, possibly for a fire? If the weather was bad, someone could stay here for days or weeks. Until food supplies had to be restocked.

  “What is it?”

  She moved her flashlight to the center. “The dirt here has been disturbed.”

  “Probably a wild animal looking for buried food, or a place to sleep.” He moved toward it, aware he’d have to go back in a minute if he was going to set up that ambush. Or he’d be doing it from here. And a blind corner wasn’t ideal.

  “You need to look at it, Dean.”

  He frowned at the impatience in her tone. The dirt had been disturbed. He shone his flashlight in circles from the mound, trying to find what she was…

  “Oh.”

  Poking out of the dirt was a triangle of material, some kind of floral pattern. A sleeve. Emerging from the cuff was a hand. Dainty. Shriveled.

  “This isn’t my area of expertise.” Her words were measured, even, and way too emotionless. “But I’m thinking that hand belongs to a dead person.”

  Clothing swished, along with the echoed sound of boots clomping through the dirt.

  Ellie gasped. Dean wanted to tell her to be quiet, but it was too late.

  Someone was in the tunnel.

  Thirty

  Dean pulled off his backpack, took out several thumb-width glow sticks, and started cracking them. He tossed them on the floor around the room, illuminating the area with an eerie green glow. Ellie watched as he pocketed two things, slid a third into the back of his waistband, and looked at her.

  “What?” She whispered the word, not wanting anyone to know she was in here.

  Dean evidently didn’t feel the same way. Apparently he was purposely trying to run into her abductor.

  Ellie shivered. She could feel the tree against her back, and the closing of his fingers around her neck. The lump in her throat. The hitch of her breath. It made her want to cough, except that she would alert her whereabouts to whoever was in the tunnel.

  No, she didn’t want to see him.

  “Stay here.”

  She had no problem with that. There was enough in here to deal with without adding her assailant to the situation.

  Ellie slumped against the wall. Free of Dean’s imposing size in such a confined area. She could take a full breath—even if she was sharing her space with a dead body now. No, she had no problem with Mr. Protector taking off after him and saving her. He was determined. He was skilled.

  She would do the job she had come here to do.

  She let her breath out slowly, wrinkling her nose. There was no way to tell how long this person had been deceased.

  Except that clearly it had been a while.

  All she could see was the sleeve of a man’s shirt and a wrinkled, decomposing hand.

  She shivered again. There was no avoiding this. Ellie’s encounters with the deceased extended only to books. This was a little more in her face than she’d have liked, but if her grandfather had wanted her to find this, then he obviously thought she could handle it.

  With Dean’s help.

  He’d disappeared into the hallway. Ellie heard nothing. She pulled her cell phone out—no signal. She walked around, holding it up, trying to find an area in this cave where there might be a glimmer of a signal to call for help.

  The construction of the cave…she didn’t know how to tell if it was man made or natural. Except maybe for tool marks on the walls. She ran her fingers down the wall. Dirt. Clay, maybe. It was dark mud, but hard packed.

  A shuffle in the hall reached her ears.

  Ellie moved quickly then, away from the door. Her foot caught something, and she toppled over onto her hands and knees. Dean’s backpack. She untangled her foot and moved around to the uncovered hand.

  Dean was taking care of the threat. That was his job, and he was good at it.

  “Everything will be fine,” she whispered to herself. That was better than talking to a dead body, right? Keep telling yourself that.

  Her alternative was to, what? Pray? She supposed that might not be a bad idea. But when had talking to God ever helped her before? That was what desperate people did. Those who couldn’t help themselves. She didn’t need faith when she had her brain and the resources around her.

  At least not right now, before things were beyond her ability to fix them. Or Dean’s ability as a warrior to protect her.

  Ellie let the shiver roll through her and shook it off. Then she heard another grunt. Dean. He was out there, she was in here. Would that be how their lives went? Clearly they were on different pages with different priorities.

  After all, he didn’t care one whit about helping her figure this out. He only wanted to protect her—which was great. She was all for not facing that guy again. But if she never found what her grandfather wanted her to find, then the threat would never be gone.

  Ellie wasn’t going to sit around, waiting to be safe. She was going to do what she could to make herself that way. Once all this was out in the light, exposed, there would be nothing anyone could do about it. No reason to hurt her.

  Not like this person.

  She crouched by the hand, not sure what she was expecting to discover. Whoever he was, he hadn’t died under natural or peaceful circumstances. Unless being buried up here, in a cave in the mountains, had been the plan. She supposed it was possible.

  The sleeve was ragged, but the pattern seemed pretty much like seventies-era fabric. A connection to the Vietnam era? That was what had brought the founders together—or so she had theorized.

  Perhaps this person was one of them, a founder.

  The dirty secret Last Chance was hiding.

  Ellie sighed. This poor person, hidden up here for years. Unknown. Unnamed. While the world went on at the bottom of the mountain, this person was decomposing. A story never told. The guilty conscience they’d had to live with. One everyone was going to know about.

  Then the police could figure out who this person was, and how they’d died.

  “Were you murdered?”

  A shuffle preceded a thump, out in the hallway. Muffled grunts reached her. Should she go and help Dean? He was injured. Mr. Protector might not think she could help him, but what if the person he fought hurt him? What if they fought dirty, and he was in too much pain?

  Ellie swallowed back the lump in her throat. She looked at her phone. Still nothing. Then at Dean’s backpack.
>
  The body.

  A corner of something caught her attention. Under the hand. Ellie covered her fingers with her sleeve and dug underneath. Then around. What emerged from the soil was a small green book. Like a little notepad, or logbook or…

  “A passport.”

  She didn’t want to mess with what might be a crime scene, but Ellie needed answers. She lifted the passport and saw English writing along with those now familiar curls and swirls.

  Vietnam.

  She stared at the hand. “Who were you?”

  A Vietnamese man who’d come to America? Years ago. She shook her head and flipped through the pages to a photo. The gentle eyes of a young man stared back. Maybe eighteen, or in his early twenties, even. Dark brown hair fell over his ears. His eyes were wide set, his brows thick. Cheekbones. Chin. Lips.

  She didn’t know what to make of it.

  This young man had come here. All the way to Last Chance. Only to be killed once he got here?

  “This makes no sense.”

  She studied the photo some more but didn’t recognize him. And why would she? He might have died before she was even born.

  A young man, with all the promise that came his way. Here, in Last Chance.

  Through her research, she knew there were a lot of Amerasians. Children of the war born to a Vietnamese mother and an American father—a US soldier. They grew up abandoned and marginalized, often bullied for what they were. Taunted with horrible names like, “half-breed.” As though any one person was less valuable than someone else.

  Was this boy one of them?

  If he’d come here, perhaps he’d been looking for something.

  Or someone.

  “And all you found was death.”

  This was what her grandfather wanted her to find? A secret he’d trusted her with.

  Dean cried out. She knew it was him. Ellie whipped around, looking at the blind corner that led back to the tunnel.

  She clambered to her feet and stuffed the passport in the back of her waistband. Then she looked from the body to the backpack. Was there a weapon in there she should get, one she could use? Dean was a warrior. A former SEAL. With a massive shoulder injury.

  She could feel that tree at her back. Just like the wall, pressed against it with Ed Summers in her face. Ellie’s breath came quick and erratic until spots seemed to spark in her vision. No. She couldn’t let the fear of facing him again paralyze her the way it had all these years. The way it had kept her from returning to Last Chance. So scared she’d run into Ed.