Chapter 4 - Caleb Came Back Without the Dog
Caleb returned the next morning.
Alone.
He took a corner booth.
Ordered coffee.
Waited.
I served three other tables first.
Then approached.
“You lost your dog?”
“He’s at the facility.”
“Good.”
“You’re Hannah Reed.”
“Yes.”
He pulled a folded paper from his jacket.
I didn’t touch it.
“What’s that?”
“A photograph.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You should.”
He unfolded it himself.
The same team photograph from my lockbox.
Not a copy from social media.
The original military version.
My real name written beneath my face.
Evelyn Hart.
I sat across from him.
“You have thirty seconds.”
“Colonel Vale gave me Ranger six months ago.”
I said nothing.
“He told me the dog had behavioral problems after losing his handler.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Caleb looked toward the window.
“Ranger was disciplined. Stable. Excellent work drive.”
“Then why transfer him?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“And?”
“Vale said he wanted Ranger close to Maine.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Caleb slid the photograph toward me.
“Two weeks ago, Vale sent me a diner address.”
My diner.
“He told me to bring Ranger in for lunch.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“And you just did it?”
“I follow lawful orders. I also ask questions.”
“Not enough.”
His expression hardened.
“I didn’t know you were alive.”
That sounded genuine.
“What happened when Ranger recognized me?”
“I called Vale.”
Of course.
“What did he say?”
Caleb looked directly at me.
“He told me I was mistaken.”
“That’s all?”
“He told me Evelyn Hart died three years ago and ordered me not to return here.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He leaned forward.
“Because somebody accessed Ranger’s old training files forty-eight hours before we came here.”
My breathing slowed.
“Who?”
“That’s the problem.”
The user credential belonged to a dead man.
Lieutenant Mason Keller.
One of the handlers in my photograph.
The one who died during our final operation.
Caleb continued.
“Whoever accessed those files knew Ranger’s private hand commands.”
Only four people had known them.
Me.
Mason.
Our trainer.
And Colonel Vale.
One was dead.
One was me.
The trainer had retired years earlier.
That left Vale.
Unless Mason’s death had been another lie.
Then Caleb said something worse.
“The login didn’t come from Colonel Vale’s system.”
“Where did it come from?”
“A civilian address in Maine.”
I looked toward the diner windows.
“How close?”
May you like
Caleb answered quietly.
“Less than five miles from here.”
