Chapter 7 - The House at the End of Miller Road
The address led to a little brick house on Miller Road.
It had a white porch. A wheelchair ramp. Two flower beds that hadn't been watered in a while.
Nothing about it suggested secrets.
Nothing about it suggested danger.
Which was exactly why I didn't trust it.
Captain Shaw wouldn't let me go alone.
She arranged for military police to support the response while federal investigators were contacted through the appropriate channels.
Ward came because he refused to be left behind.
I came because Caleb Dunn had once saved my life.
And because I needed to see whether somebody was using his memory to hurt me.
We reached the house shortly after noon.
Shaw approached the front door.
I stayed near the driveway.
Ward looked at me.
"You're shaking."
"No, sir."
"Mara."
I glanced down.
My hands were trembling.
I put them in my pockets.
"I haven't seen Caleb since the tunnel."
Ward didn't answer.
Shaw knocked.
An older woman opened the door.
She had gray hair pulled into a tight bun and wore a faded blue cardigan.
When she saw the uniformed officers, her expression changed.
"What's happened?"
Shaw introduced herself.
"We're looking for Caleb Dunn."
The woman gripped the doorframe.
"Who wants him?"
I stepped forward.
"My name is Mara."
The woman's face went white.
She stared at me.
Then she whispered, "Oh, Lord."
I felt my throat tighten.
"You know me?"
She nodded.
"He's been saying your name for years."
I couldn't move.
"Who?"
"My brother."
She stepped aside.
"Come in."
Her name was Ellen Dunn.
Caleb's older sister.
She led us into a living room that smelled of lemon cleaner and coffee.
There were family photographs on the walls. A television playing quietly. A stack of medical bills beside a recliner.
And in the chair near the window sat a man I had buried in my head thirteen years earlier.
Caleb Dunn.
He had been thirty when I last saw him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Strong enough to carry a wounded man without changing his expression.
Now he was forty-three.
His right arm rested motionless against his side. His left leg was supported by a brace. There was a deep scar across his forehead.
He looked older than he should have.
But I knew him immediately.
"Caleb."
His head turned.
For a second, he stared.
Then his eyes widened.
His mouth opened.
No sound came.
I walked toward him.
"Mara."
He said it badly. The word came out broken.
But it was my name.
I dropped to my knees beside his chair.
He reached for me with his left hand.
I took it.
And suddenly I was back in the tunnel, hearing him shout for me to take the little girl.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
His fingers tightened.
"I'm so sorry."
Caleb shook his head.
It took him several tries to speak.
"Got. Them. Out?"
I started crying.
I hadn't cried in front of another soldier since Black River.
I couldn't stop.
"Twenty survivors reached safety eventually. Sofia made it. You saved them."
Caleb closed his eyes.
A tear moved down his cheek.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then he squeezed my hand again.
"Good."
That one word nearly destroyed me.
Ellen brought tissues.
Ward stood in the doorway, looking as though the floor had disappeared beneath him.
He approached slowly.
"Sergeant Dunn."
Caleb looked at him.
The warmth vanished from his face.
His hand tightened around mine.
"No."
Ward stopped.
"Caleb, I—"
"No."
Ellen moved closer.
"He doesn't like visitors from the Army."
I looked at Ward.
"Stay back."
He obeyed.
Shaw asked Ellen how Caleb had come to live there.
Ellen looked uncomfortable.
"Someone brought him home eleven years ago."
"Who?"
"A man from a rehabilitation agency. He said Caleb had been injured overseas and suffered extensive brain damage."
"Did he provide medical records?"
"Some. They didn't make much sense."
"Did you question them?"
Ellen looked angry.
"Of course I did. My brother had been declared dead. I spent two years being told there'd been a mistake with the paperwork. By the time somebody offered to bring him home, I was afraid they'd change their minds."
I understood.
Graham Sloane didn't always need threats.
Sometimes he only needed to find someone desperate enough to accept an explanation.
I looked at Caleb.
"Who found you?"
His eyes moved toward the wall.
There was a calendar hanging beside the television.
He stared at it.
Then he whispered one word.
"Doctor."
My stomach tightened.
"What doctor?"
He struggled.
Ellen knelt beside him.
"Take your time, honey."
Caleb's left hand began moving against the blanket.
One finger. Then another.
He was making letters.
I watched.
R.
O.
W.
A.
N.
I stopped breathing.
Ellis Rowan.
Our driver.
One of the nine.
I looked at Caleb.
"Ellis?"
He nodded hard.
"Ellis found you?"
Caleb shook his head.
His breathing quickened.
"Ellis hurt you?"
He closed his eyes.
Then nodded.
I felt cold spread through my chest.
I had suspected someone betrayed us.
Now Caleb was pointing toward a name I'd once trusted with my life.
"Ellen," Shaw asked, "has anyone contacted your brother recently?"
She nodded.
"A man came three nights ago. Said he was from the veterans' benefits office."
"What did he want?"
"To ask whether Caleb remembered a woman."
I closed my eyes.
"What woman?"
Ellen looked at me.
"You."
Ward moved closer.
"Ellen, did the man leave a name?"
"No. But my brother got so upset that I made him leave."
Caleb suddenly grabbed my hand.
Hard.
"Box."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Box. Blue."
Ellen frowned.
"The blue box?"
Caleb nodded.
She stood and went to a cabinet.
From the bottom shelf she pulled a battered blue metal lunchbox.
Its paint was scratched.
A child's faded sticker covered one corner.
She placed it on the table.
"He's kept this since the day he came home. He gets upset if anybody moves it."
I opened the lid.
Inside were a photograph, three old medical identification tags, and a folded piece of paper.
The photograph showed our team.
All nine of us.
Standing outside the aid station two days before Black River.
Daniel was grinning at the camera. Lena had her arm around Naomi. Keene looked annoyed because he hated photographs.
Caleb stood behind us, smiling.
And on the far right was Ellis Rowan.
He wasn't looking at the camera.
He was looking at someone beyond it.
I examined the paper.
It was a medical transfer form.
Patient: Caleb Dunn.
Date: Six weeks after Black River.
Transfer authorization: E. Rowan.
Then I saw the receiving facility.
Meridian Recovery Center.
My stomach tightened.
Ellis had transferred Caleb into a facility run by the same people who tried to kill us.
I looked at Caleb.
"Was Ellis working for them?"
He closed his eyes.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Then he whispered something that made Ward step forward.
"Not. Alone."
I leaned closer.
"Who else?"
Caleb looked past me.
Straight at Colonel Ward.
His face twisted with fear.
"Colonel."
Ward went rigid.
I felt my heartbeat slow.
"Caleb," I said carefully. "Which colonel?"
His hand tightened around mine.
He opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, Ellen's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her expression changed.
"That's strange."
"What?" Shaw asked.
"It's my nephew. He never calls during work."
She answered.
"Hello?"
We watched her face drain.
"Wait. Slow down."
A man's voice came through the speaker.
"Aunt Ellen, get away from the house. Right now."
Ellen stared at us.
"What?"
"The man who came to see Uncle Caleb is outside my office. He says if the woman is with Caleb, the whole family is going to pay."
Shaw reached for her radio.
"Everyone away from the windows."
I looked at Caleb.
His eyes were fixed on the front door.
Then I heard a vehicle stop outside.
And a voice I remembered from thirteen years earlier called through the porch screen.
May you like
"Mara Voss. We need to talk."
Ellis Rowan had finally come back.
