25. Guidelines & Rules #2
She ignores me. It takes her a moment to get upright and around the table. Annie starts to stand, but Ellie reaches her first, awkward and determined, and wraps both arms around her.
Annie freezes for a second. Then her arms close around Ellie.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ellie says into her shoulder.
Annie’s eyes close.
“It wasn’t,” Ellie says again, fierce enough to fill the kitchen. “You don’t need to apologize for that ever. You didn’t know I was there.”
Annie’s hand presses to Ellie’s back. “Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I hear you.”
“That guy is a horse’s behind.”
A sound breaks out of Annie that is too close to a laugh and too close to tears.
Ellie tightens her hold. “And you yelled at him.”
“I did.”
“Then there.” Ellie pulls back enough to look at her. “That’s where the blame goes.”
Annie’s mouth presses together, and she nods.
I look down at my plate because watching them is almost too much.
Ellie makes it back to her chair with Annie beside her, one hand hovering but not touching. It takes everything in me not to help. It looks like it takes everything in Annie too.
Dinner is better after that.
Ellie tells Annie about Erin giving three different versions of the waterfall story by lunch and getting more dramatic each time.
Annie tells Ellie about the time Jake fell off the dock at thirteen and tried to convince everyone he was practicing diving, fully clothed.
Ellie laughs too hard and has to hold her head for a minute, which makes me threaten to ration humor.
They both ignore me. That seems to be their preferred team sport.
After pasta, Ellie pushes noodles around her plate and looks at Annie.
“How long is Ian going to be in town?”
Annie sets her fork down. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t like him being here.”
“Neither do I.”
“Is he going to come back to the clinic?”
“No,” I say before I can stop myself.
Annie looks at me. I hold her look, then correct the course. “He isn’t allowed back in the clinic.”
That, at least, is true and not a promise beyond my control.
Annie turns back to Ellie. “We’re working on the cannery situation. I hope it’s over soon, but I’m not going to promise you something I’m not sure of.”
Ellie nods slowly. “Okay.”
“I can promise I won’t be alone with him again if I can help it.”
“And if you can’t help it?” Ellie asks.
“Then I’ll be loud.”
Ellie seems to accept that. “You’re good at that.”
Annie points her fork at her. “Careful.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“Speaking of that, excuse me for a moment Annie. I’m going to go make that call real quick before dessert.”
The girls get up to clear the table and take care of the dishes.
Earlier, at the clinic, I told Annie about Admiral.
She got the short, Reader’s Digest version.
One of my brothers in every way that matters.
Retired one-star. Private cyber and IT work now.
Not a hacker. He hates when people call him that.
He is simply very, very good at finding what people think is hidden, especially when money, aliases, corporate filings, and public records are at stake.
I asked Annie if it would be okay with her to bring Admiral in on the Ian situation and see what he can find out.
Her answer was immediate. Yes.
So after dinner, I step out onto the small back porch with my phone and call Admiral.
He answers on the second ring. “Doc.”
“Admiral.”
“You sound better than you did a couple nights ago.”
“I am.”
“Ellie?”
“Back at school today. Crutches. Concussion. Attitude intact.”
“I would expect nothing less from our girl.”
I don’t take his words lightly. Our girl is absolutely right.
“Thanks,” I say.
“For?”
“You know what for.”
He is quiet for a moment. “You were overdue. The call needed to be made. Let’s not make a production out of it. Okay.”
“Okay.”
“So what’s going on?”
I look out into Annie’s yard. “I need another favor.”
“Go.”
I give him the short version because Admiral doesn’t appreciate verbal clutter.
“Ian Danvers. Developer. Current project is the Coupeville waterfront cannery. Public-facing pitch is restoration, jobs, local benefit, tourism, revitalization. He also went by Ian Thorne in Portland eight years ago. Annie knew him there.”
“How?”
“They were together.”
“Personal connection.”
“Yes. Another restoration project, this time in Portland. Old building. Community use pitch. Donors, investors, contractors. The project collapsed. Money gone. Families hurt. Ian disappeared before consequences landed on him. Annie was investigated instead because she was publicly connected to him. Cleared eventually, but publicly damaged.”
Admiral is silent long enough that I know he is writing.
“Danvers and Thorne,” he says. “Any middle name?”
“Supposedly Bradley.”
“Date range?”
“Roughly eight years ago.”
“Project name?”
“Annie has files. She’s pulling them together.”
“I’ll need everything she has. Names, entities, addresses, emails, brochures, press, donor lists if she has them, contractor names, filings, permit records, lawsuits, complaints, old phone numbers, bank names if they appear anywhere, and every version of his signature she can find.”
“Understood.” Despite myself, I almost smile. “Still warm and accessible.”
“Still correct.”
“Be careful, Doc. He may be watching Annie.”
That gets a different silence.
“Define watching.”
“He knew enough to approach her privately at the clinic. He pressured her to support the cannery. Threatened to weaponize Portland. Put his hands on her. Sounds to me like a man coming up against desperation.”
Admiral‘s voice changes. Not louder. Colder. “Just be wary, that’s all.”
“Any reason to believe he has people in town feeding him information?”
“He has people who think the project sounds great. People repeat things here.”
“That’s not the same as surveillance.”
“No. But he likely knows Ellie went missing, town mobilized, and Annie wasn’t at the hospital.”
“Small towns do half the work for men like him.”
“Yes.”
Admiral exhales once. “Do not spook him yet.”
I look back through the kitchen window.
Annie is at the sink. Ellie is beside her, holding a towel and talking with her whole face. Annie laughs at something she says.
“I don’t want to ruin anything else,” I say.
Admiral hears what I don’t say.
“I’ll look,” he says. “Quietly. Send me what she has. I’ll start quietly with Ian Danvers, Ian Thorne, Portland restoration projects in the relevant window, corporate registrations, civil suits, liens, contractor complaints, environmental or permit violations, and any entity names tied to the cannery. ”
“Thank you.”
“Doc.”
“Yes?”
“If this man has a pattern, he has paperwork. Men like that always think changing names makes them new. It doesn’t. It just gives me more rocks to look under.”
For the first time all day, I feel something shift on the Ian front.
Not solved. But moving forward.
“I’ll get you the files.”
“Tonight if possible.”
“Roger that.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Doc.”
“Goodbye, Admiral.”
“And Doc?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad Ellie’s home.”
I have to swallow the lump in my throat to answer. “Me too.”
The call ends. I stand on the porch for another moment, phone in my hand, letting the cold air clear my head.
When I go back inside, Annie looks over from the sink.
I nod once and smile.
He’s in.
I take the towel from Ellie before she can argue. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am resting. Very actively.”
Annie opens the dishwasher. “Let her help. She’s been bossed around all day.”
“Thank you,” Ellie says.
“Don’t get used to it. I boss people too.”
“I know. That’s why I like you.”
Annie gets quiet for half a second, then busies herself with the plates.
Ellie doesn’t notice.
I do.
After the kitchen is mostly clean, Ellie leans against the counter with one crutch tucked under her arm.
“When I’m off these things,” she says, “we should go camping.”
I look up from putting leftovers into a container. “We?”
“You and me.”
“Okay.”
“And Annie probably knows good places.”
Annie closes the dishwasher and turns. “Fort Ebey.”
Ellie looks at her.
Annie wipes her hands on a towel. “It’s a state park. Good campsites, trails, bluff views. Your dad would like the old military battery. You’d like the beach when you get off those crutches.”
Ellie reaches for her crutch, makes her way across the kitchen, and takes Annie’s hand.
Annie looks down at their joined hands.
“Annie,” Ellie says, patient in a way that is entirely for adults being slow. “Where we all can go camping.”
Time seems to stand still for a moment. Annie’s fingers close carefully around Ellie’s.
“Oh,” she says.
It is one syllable.
It means more than the rest of the evening put together.
Ellie shrugs with one shoulder, trying to make the whole thing casual now that she has dropped it in the middle of the room. “Unless you hate camping.”
“I love camping.”
Good. It’s a plan, then.
Annie clears her throat. “Fort Ebey, then. Definitely.”
Ellie smiles.
“There are sites tucked back enough that you get some privacy, but you’re still close to trails.
The bluff can get windy, so you have to stake the tent properly.
There are old gun batteries your dad will pretend not to be too interested in.
And if we plan it right, we can do sunset at the water without hiking too far. ”
We.
She says it once and keeps going like it didn’t just change everything.
“Sounds perfect,” Ellie says.
Annie looks at her, and there is no armor anywhere to be seen.
Then she turns to me. “Apparently we’re going camping.”
“Apparently.” I raise an eyebrow and smile. “But not until your knee is better.”
“But we can still make plans,” Ellie says.
I look between them.
My daughter is on crutches. Annie’s barefoot in her kitchen. Ian is still out there. Admiral now on the hunt.
The future is not simple, not safe, not guaranteed.
But for tonight, it’s a lot brighter.