14. Doc
DOC
Sheriff Tate puts Elias Hampton in handcuffs.
Hampton looks down at them.
Then at Tate.
“Seriously?”
“Very.”
“I just saved three boxes of evidence from a burning building.”
“You also broke into a tavern and shot one of my deputies.”
“He shot me too.”
“You were stealing evidence.”
“I was recovering evidence.”
Tate tightens one cuff.
Hampton winces.
“That seems unnecessary.”
“So did shooting Parker.”
I turn away before Hampton sees my smile.
Mara doesn't bother.
She grins.
Hampton looks at her.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“I helped you.”
“You shot Parker.”
“He fired first.”
“You were climbing out a window with stolen property and holding a gun.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad.”
Trigger points at Mara.
“I like her.”
Wolf looks at him.
“You've known her for years.”
“I like her more today.”
Hampton sighs.
“Can we discuss the larger problem?”
Sheriff Tate guides him toward a patrol vehicle.
“We can discuss it at the station.”
“You're arresting me?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes me to decide how many laws you've broken.”
“That could take a while.”
“I've got time.”
Hampton looks at me.
“Doc.”
I lift both hands.
“Don't involve me.”
“You know why I took the case.”
“Yes.”
“You know Parker wasn't my target.”
“Yes.”
“Tell him.”
“No.”
Hampton stares at me.
“Why?”
“Because you shot a deputy.”
Mara smiles at me.
I shouldn't notice.
I do.
Hampton mutters something under his breath as Tate puts him into the back of the patrol vehicle.
Trigger leans toward me.
“I think he's offended.”
“He'll recover.”
“Parker did.”
I look at him.
“Too soon?”
“Yes.”
“Probably.”
Wolf walks past us carrying one of the rescued file boxes.
“Definitely.”
For the first time in fifteen years, being around them feels almost normal.
That's dangerous.
Normal makes a man think he can stay.
I don't stay.
I learned that lesson a long time ago.
Then Mara reaches for my hand.
And apparently I haven't learned anything.
Robert Vance's address doesn't exist anymore.
The road does.
Barely.
McKinley Road once ran along the northern edge of the pasture behind Mara’s mother’s house. Twenty years ago, the county rerouted it after repeated flooding damaged the bridge.
The old road became part of the McKinley property.
Which means Robert Vance once lived less than half a mile from Mara’s family.
I don't like coincidences.
I like this one even less.
Sheriff Tate spreads an old county map across the conference-room table.
Mara stands on one side.
Wolf and Trigger stand on the other.
Hampton sits in a chair against the wall with one wrist cuffed to a steel ring beneath the table.
He isn't happy.
That makes two of us.
“Here,” Tate says.
He taps a faded square near the creek.
“Vance owned six acres and a small house.”
“When?” Mara asks.
“Bought it seventeen years ago.”
Two years before Grant died.
“When did he sell?”
“He didn't.”
We all look at Tate.
“What happened to it?” I ask.
“County condemned the structure after the flood twelve years ago. According to the records, it was abandoned.”
“According to the records,” Hampton mutters.
Sheriff Tate looks at him.
“Do you have something useful to contribute?”
“I've spent fifteen years learning not to trust records.”
“That's ironic coming from a man whose death certificate says he's been dead eleven years.”
Trigger laughs.
Hampton closes his eyes.
“I really dislike this town.”
“You'll fit in,” Wolf says.
Mara bends over the map.
“The house would have been near the cottonwoods.”
“Yes.”
“The same place the shooter was positioned when he fired at Mom's house.”
Tate nods.
“And where the dark truck crossed the pasture.”
My attention moves to Hampton.
“Did you know Vance lived here?”
“No.”
I watch his face.
He's telling the truth.
Or he's very good.
“Then why did you come to Eagle River?”
“Because Mara found the journal.”
“How did you know?”
Hampton hesitates.
Sheriff Tate taps the handcuffs.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Hampton looks at Mara.
“Your mother.”
The room goes still.
“My mother is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
Hampton leans back.
“Your mother contacted me three months ago.”
Mara's face loses color.
I step closer to her.
She doesn't seem to notice.
“How?”
“Email.”
“Why would Mom contact you?”
“She knew who I was.”
“You said you spoke to her once after Grant died.”
“I did.”
“And she threatened to shoot you.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds more like her.”
Wolf almost smiles.
Mara doesn't.
“What did she want three months ago?”
Hampton's expression changes.
“She knew she was running out of time.”
Mara grips the edge of the table.
I move closer.
Not touching.
Just there.
“She told me Grant had left something behind,” Hampton continues. “Something she'd hidden for him.”
“The lockbox.”
“She didn't call it that.”
“What did she call it?”
“Grant’s insurance.”
My pulse changes.
Mara looks at me.
“Why contact you?”
“She wanted to know whether the men who killed Grant were still alive.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Yes.
The word hangs in the room.
Mara's voice becomes quiet.
“Did you tell her about Vance?”
“I didn't know he was here.”
“Miller?”
“I told her Fred might still be alive.”
“What about the Colonel?”
Hampton looks away.
“I told her I still hadn't found him.”
Mara releases the table.
“So Mom knew.”
“Enough to be afraid.”
“She was already sick.”
“I know.”
Her head snaps toward him.
“How?”
“She told me.”
I see the pain cross Mara's face.
This woman spent the final months of her mother's life caring for her.
And all that time, her mother was carrying one last secret about Grant.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
Hampton answers softly.
“Because she loved you.”
Mara looks away.
I want to touch her.
I don't.
Not yet.
Sheriff Tate speaks instead.
“What exactly did Mrs. Ellis ask you to do?”
“Find Doc.”
Everyone looks at me.
I don't move.
Hampton continues.
“She said if anything happened to her, Mara would eventually clean out the house.”
“The cedar chest,” Mara whispers.
“Yes.”
“She knew I'd find Grant’s journal.”
“She hoped you would.”
That surprises her.
“But she hid it from me.”
“She hid it while she was alive.”
Hampton looks toward me.
“After she was gone, she wanted Grant’s plan to continue.”
My chest tightens.
“Why me?”
“You know why.”
The promise.
Grant.
Mara.
“She told you to contact me?”
“She told me that if Mara found the journal, I was to make sure you came back to Eagle River.”
Anger rises.
“You sent the photograph.”
“Yes.”
Mara looks at him.
“The picture of me through the rifle scope?”
“Yes.”
My hand closes into a fist.
“You put her in crosshairs.”
“I needed you to understand the danger.”
“You could have called.”
“Would you have come?”
“Yes.”
“You hadn't come in fifteen years.”
“Because no one called.”
Hampton's gaze holds mine.
“Exactly.”
I take one step toward him.
Mara catches my arm.
“Doc.”
“He terrified you.”
“Yes.”
“He made me think someone was about to kill you.”
“Someone was about to kill me.”
That stops me.
Mara looks at Hampton.
“You sent the photograph, but you weren't the shooter.”
“No.”
“Vance?”
“I believe so.”
“And the message?”
Your promise ends with her.
Hampton nods.
“Mine.”
My anger returns.
“How did you know about the promise?”
Hampton looks at me.
“Grant told me.”
Everything inside me stills.
“When?”
“The night before he died.”
“No.”
“He knew you would make it.”
“I hadn't yet.”
“Grant knew you.”
My throat tightens.
Hampton continues.
“He said if things went bad, he was going to make you promise to look after Mara.”
I look away.
Grant had planned even that.
Not because he knew he was going to die.
Because he knew he might.
Mara's hand remains on my arm.
Warm.
Steady.
“Mom asked you to bring Doc here,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Then why steal his coordinates?”
“Because I didn't trust him.”
I turn back.
“You kidnapped me twice in one day and you're questioning my reliability?”
“Once.”
“What?”
“I kidnapped you once.”
“You took my case.”
“That isn't kidnapping.”
Trigger lifts a finger.
“He's technically right.”
Wolf looks at him.
“Stop helping.”
Hampton continues.
“I needed to know whether Doc still had Grant’s evidence.”
“You could've asked.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“You weren't exactly answering my Christmas cards.”
“You never sent Christmas cards.”
“Exactly.”
Mara laughs.
She tries not to.
Fails.
I look at her.
“Really?”
“Sorry.”
She isn't.
I can tell.
Sheriff Tate rubs both hands over his face.
“I am trying to conduct an investigation.”
Hampton nods toward me.
“He started it.”
“I am going to put all of you in separate rooms.”
“That might help,” Wolf says.
Trigger shakes his head.
“It won't.”
Tate ignores them.
“Mara’s mother contacted Hampton. Hampton sent the photograph to bring Doc back. Vance fired the shot at the house and apparently stole Grant’s key.”
“That leaves the tavern shooting,” Mara says.
Everyone looks at Hampton.
He shakes his head.
“Not me.”
“You broke into the office later,” Tate says.
“Yes.”
“But you didn't fire through the front window?”
“No.”
“Vance again?”
“Probably.”
“Probably isn't evidence.”
“I've spent most of my adult life avoiding courtrooms.”
“That is becoming increasingly obvious.”
Mara studies the map.
“Vance has been watching us.”
“Yes,” I say.
“He knew Mom had Grant’s things.”
“Yes.”
“He knew about the key.”
“Yes.”
“But he didn't know where the lockbox was until we found it.”
Hampton leans forward.
“Which means you need to move that box.”
Sheriff Tate looks at him.
“Already did.”
Everyone turns.
Mara blinks.
“You did?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“I'm not telling any of you.”
“I'm a deputy.”
“You're also personally involved.”
Wolf asks, “Do I get to know?”
“No.”
Trigger raises a hand.
“Me?”
“No.”
I almost smile.
Hampton rattles his cuff.
“I assume I'm not on the list.”
“You're barely on my Christmas-card list.”
“You don't have my address.”
“I have the county jail.”
Trigger laughs so hard he grabs his head.
Tate points at him.
“Hospital.”
Trigger stops laughing.
“I'm fine.”
“Hospital.”
“I hate this family.”
Wolf puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on.”
“Don't touch me.”
“You can walk or I can carry you.”
Trigger looks at me.
“Help.”
“No.”
“Traitor.”
The word lands differently now.
But not as hard.
Maybe that's progress.
Parker calls while Wolf is attempting to force Trigger into his truck.
Sheriff Tate puts the call on speaker.
“How are you doing?”
“Bored.”
Trigger immediately points at the phone.
“See? Parker understands me.”
Tate points toward Wolf's truck.
“Go.”
Trigger stays.
Of course.
Parker continues.
“They're keeping me overnight.”
“Good.”
“I got shot, Sheriff. You're not supposed to sound pleased.”
“I'm pleased you're somewhere you can't disobey me.”
Mara smiles.
“What do you remember about the man who shot you?” Tate asks.
“Black clothes. Mask. About six feet. Maybe a little taller.”
“Voice?”
“Didn't hear much.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Sheriff Tate finally forces Trigger into Wolf's truck.
Before Wolf gets in, he looks at me.
“You coming?”
“Where?”
“Hospital.”
“No.”
“Last Stand?”
I glance at Mara.
She catches me.
Wolf smiles.
“Never mind.”
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He laughs and gets into the truck.
Mara watches them drive away.
Then looks at Hampton.
“What happens to him?”
“County jail,” Tate says.
Hampton sighs.
“I knew I should have stayed dead.”
“You shot Parker,” Mara says.
“I know.”
Her expression softens slightly.
“But you also saved those files.”
Hampton looks at her.
“Are you thanking me?”
“No.”
“Sounded like it.”
“Don't get used to it.”
I smile.
Mara catches me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're smiling.”
“I've been told I do that occasionally.”
“Not often.”
“No.”
Her gaze stays on mine.
Sheriff Tate escorts Hampton toward the holding area.
For the first time all morning, Mara and I are alone.
Mostly.
There are deputies everywhere.
But none of them matter.
“You okay?” I ask.
“No.”
At least she doesn't lie.
“I keep finding out Mom knew things she never told me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
“That doesn't make it hurt less.”
“No.”
I understand that better than she realizes.
Mara looks down at my hand.
Then takes it.
Just like she did in the hardware store.
No hesitation this time.
“You came because of Mom.”
I look at her.
“What?”
“Hampton said she wanted him to bring you back if I found the journal.”
“Yes.”
“And Grant made you promise to protect me.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tighten around mine.
“So everyone keeps deciding why you're supposed to be here.”
Something in her voice changes.
I wait.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“About what?”
“Why you're still here.”
The answer should be easy.
Grant.
The investigation.
Hampton.
Vance.
The Colonel.
Instead, I look at the woman holding my hand.
“Mara.”
She steps closer.
My pulse changes.
“That's not an answer.”
No.
It isn't.
Fifteen years ago, I made Grant Ellis a promise.
Three days ago, that promise would have been enough.
It isn't anymore.
“I came to Eagle River because of Grant.”
Her eyes stay on mine.
“And?”
I lift my free hand.
Slowly.
Giving her plenty of time to move.
She doesn't.
My fingers brush a strand of dark hair away from her cheek.
Her breath catches.
“I think I'm staying because of you.”
Mara goes completely still.
So do I.
There it is.
The truth I have been avoiding since the moment I walked into the Last Stand.
Her gaze drops to my mouth.
Then rises again.
I lean closer.
The door behind us opens.
“Deputy Ellis?”
We jump apart.
A young deputy freezes.
His eyes move from Mara to me.
Then back.
“Oh. Sorry.”