Expired Cache - Lisa Phillips Page 0,36
their father.
Now he thanked God every day since that Chief Ridgeman had taken one look at Ted and seen something in him. The chief had turned what could’ve been a stint in juvie into an internship that gave Ted the support he needed through college. Now he worked there full time and was thriving.
Dean decided, as he unlocked their front door, that it was entirely possible he and Jessica had similar personalities and were destined to clash about everything. What Dean didn’t like was how it bothered his brother that they were at odds.
But that was a problem he couldn’t deal with right now when he needed to instead find out what possessed Ellie to leave the scene and go home where she was now alone.
“Ellie? It’s Dean.”
He got no response, so he pulled his gun and swept the first couple of rooms for her. He cleared the kitchen and living room. The dining room. When he saw her in the study reading like nothing was wrong, he cleared the upstairs rooms as well. Just to prove to himself no one else was here.
When he went back, she was in the exact same position. The phrase “nose in a book” came to mind as he watched her study pages of handwriting in what looked like an old, yellowed journal. It looked a lot like the kind he used to use to write notes and record his thoughts.
“Anything good?”
Ellie screamed, dropped the book, and whirled around. Her legs seemed to get tangled. She’d never have been able to get up in time if she had been in real danger.
“You’d be dead right now if I was the person trying to hurt you. Whatever it was you’ve found would be gone.” He holstered his gun instead of what he really wanted to do—throttle her for being caught unaware.
She finally untangled her crossed legs and stood, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You’re here. You look…good for someone battered halfway unconscious.”
“Being cute isn’t going to get you out of trouble.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not being cute. I was scared to death.”
“So instead of going with me to the hospital, which was what I wanted you to do, you left with Officer Donaldson and came here alone?”
“I thought there was an officer outside, watching the house.”
“There was.” He wanted to cross his arms, but that would hurt right now. A lot. “And if someone snuck up to the back door while he was out front?”
She gasped. “Did they?”
“No.” He sighed. “Did you at least find something to justify putting yourself in danger?”
Ellie frowned. “Jess said you might be like this. She said you’re the kind that has to be the one who takes care of whoever you think needs it.”
“And you don’t? After a hit-and-run attempt, getting shot at, and with what happened on the road with the winch.” He was still mad at himself that he hadn’t ducked far enough, fast enough to avoid getting hurt.
She started to say something, caught herself, and pressed her lips together.
If Dean had to be honest with himself—which he usually tried to be—it was pretty distracting. “I plan on being as protective as I need to be in order to keep you alive.”
“Okay.” She said, “I do appreciate it, you know.”
He nodded and crossed to the couch her grandfather had stashed in his office after he bought new ones a few years back. Dean eased down onto it. The groan slipped out.
Ellie came over. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
“I’d rather you weren’t out of my sight for a little while. Okay?” He’d had enough out-of-the-blue adrenaline rushes for today. Not “scares” as such, because he tended to ignore fear in favor of logic. But he figured she got what he meant. Even if she just thought he was being overprotective the way they all said he was with Ted.
Ellie moved to the spot where she’d been when he first walked in, which meant he didn’t have to strain to look up at her from his prone position. She picked up a book her grandfather had read, one about the Navy in Vietnam.
“Do you think your grandfather’s secret is all about something that happened back then?”
She shrugged one shoulder, lifted the book, and shook it. Nothing fell out.
“Outwardly he was all about his service. It’s in everything he had around him, a celebration of the time he gave to this country. Then in his journal, it’s all about how ashamed he was. How guilty he