Page 42 of Deadly Force
Caleb doesn't argue. Instead, he scans the lot like danger might sprout from the asphalt. “You’re sure no one else has a key?”
“Just staff. And they’re not the kind to snoop.”
He doesn't look convinced, but he nods once. “Lead the way.”
The room isn't much: a musty, windowless basement space tucked behind the youth wing. It holds only a locking door, a folding cot, and a few plastic chairs meant for Sunday school kids. Bible verse posters still hang crooked on the walls beside faded missionary updates.
It’s not a safe house, not in the Hightower sense.
But it’s a sanctuary.
Caleb drops the bags inside and immediately starts scanning the room, checking the hinges, the vent grates, the bolt lock. I sit on the cot, acutely aware of the tension humming in my chest and vibrating between us.
“He exaggerated,” I say instead. “Rev. I didn’t do anything special. I just called 911 and hung around to let the EMTs know who her next of kin was.”
Caleb doesn't look at me, still checking the last corner. “Not everyone would have bothered.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I was just in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”
He finally stops moving, and his gaze meets mine. “You saved her life. Don’t downplay that.”
I try again. “I’m not, but I don’t want you to think I’m boasting about it either.”
He crosses his arms. “I don’t.”
Just two words. Firm and unbending. Not dismissive, but not open either. It leaves me standing in the middle of the conversation, unsure whether we’ve landed or just circled back to where we started.
This isn’t going the way I planned, so I change the subject. “Maybe we should talk about what our next move is.”
He nods. “Agreed. The driver is following you for a reason. I’m trying to decide whether that reason is because they think you have the file, which makes sense, or they know Eliza had it on the trail.”
I grip the edge of the counter, mind catching up to what he’s saying. “Could they know she threw it away?”
“Possibly. But that would mean they followed her that night. No sense they’d allow her to meet with you if that was the case.”
I nod, but doubt claws at me. “So… we’re going back to look for the file, right?”
“When Mateo gets back. We’ll go.”
I feel a surge of triumph. Even if it nets us zero.
Caleb resumes his sentry post, and I glance at my phone. Seven missed calls, and three are from Mom.
No wonder she called Mick.
I shift my weight, grab my phone, and stand. “I need to call my mom back.”
He pulls out his own phone. “No problem. I have a few calls to make myself. I can wait outside. But don’t mention the tires or being shot at, eh?”
Before I can say I’m not that stupid, he slips into the hallway.
The silence he leaves behind buzzes through my chest like an echo.
Oh boy. Where to start?
The phone doesn’t even ring twice.
“Finally, she calls!” Mom’s voice bursts through the speaker.
