Expired Cache - Lisa Phillips Page 0,27
her head. “I’m not usually this out of it.”
“You’re doing fine. It’s been a lot the past couple of days.” He added, “Not many people can deal with finding out their life could be in danger the way you are.”
“Oh, well, I’m not really thinking about it, to be honest with you. I tend to unpack things slowly and mull them over. You know?”
He didn’t know. “Can’t do that in my line of work. You have to react and trust your instincts completely.”
“I don’t.” She seemed convinced of it.
“Haven’t we all got built-in responses? Things our brains do without us even thinking about it. Like when you drive and take a turn without thinking about it, and you suddenly realize you’re headed to your old job. Or the last place you lived. Automatic things.”
“Hmm.”
Dean grinned, happy to have given her something to think about instead of what was actually happening. He planned to keep her safe while she was working it out. And while she was trying to figure out this “secret” that her grandfather had left for her.
He pointed at the music box. “All this needs to go?”
“Yes, please.”
Dean packed the backpack he’d emptied of surveillance equipment.
“It’s all up and running?” She was looking at the camera up in the eaves of the porch. Not super conspicuous, but you couldn’t see it until it could see you. So it worked for now. Until they could get something better installed.
Which meant the team would then be back, and he’d get some solid backup helping him keep Ellie safe. If things escalated, anyway. It might not come down to that. In fact, he hoped it wouldn’t because that would mean Ellie was in serious danger.
He secured her front door and used a small cordless drill Stuart had brought in the backpack to affix a deadbolt to keep it shut. He handed Ellie the key. “This belongs to you.”
“Thank you.”
They started walking.
“And thank Stuart for me, as well. Please?” When Dean nodded, she continued, “Was he okay, after last night?”
“With what you did, using that app—that was fast thinking, and I’m grateful—he came out of it because of you. But it’s what happened before that I’m worried about.” He scanned around them, watching for indications someone was out there. A someone with the same rifle that had been used to shoot out the windows. “It seems Stuart might have witnessed a murder, if not, he possibly participated in a man’s death.”
“You think he could’ve hurt someone?”
“He’s had serious training. Not like me, but he’s deadly when he needs to be. Lately, that hasn’t been necessary, and yet it’s not something you forget. So I’d say it’s definitely possible. He might’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or he did something he’s going to have to answer for—whether he remembers it or not.”
“A wrong is a wrong, no matter if it was committed unknowingly,” she said. “But it seemed like post-traumatic stress to me.”
“That’s right. It is, and I’ve been helping him work through it.” Dean needed to tread cautiously. “Is that something you have experience with?”
She started to speak, but his phone rang.
“This is Dean.” He studied her while he listened.
“It’s Bill at dispatch. There’s been a traffic accident on Hill Road, half a mile west of mile marker seven.”
“Copy that.” He started to walk faster but saw Ellie wince when she tried to do the same. “I’m on my way.”
“Has something happened?”
“Car accident. Sounds like I’m closest.”
Eleven
The couple of pain pills she’d taken from her grandfather’s medicine cabinet had started to work by the time they pulled up at the scene of the accident.
On the highway, headed back toward town, a truck had turned over. Two other vehicles—a car and a delivery van—had collided with it. Or each other. It was hard to tell what had happened.
Dean pulled up the parking brake. “Stay here.”
He pushed out the door and slammed it behind him before grabbing a duffel from the trunk and sprinting to the overturned truck. All while Ellie sat there.
A police car was parked on the far side as though it had come from town. Blue and red lights flashed. Where was the ambulance? Surely someone had been hurt. She couldn’t believe there were no injuries. Shattered headlights and debris lay across the asphalt.
She was a college professor. She might be trained in self-defense, but she’d never taken first aid classes. She didn’t know what to do.
Ellie gripped the backpack of her grandfather’s things between her shins.