“Yes, they’re prescribed quite often. But please tell me someone you know isn’t taking all of them at once?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, some of those drugs should never be mixed or combined with others. Everyone’s body chemistry is different . . . making these projections unpredictable, at best. Lethal, at worst.”
“Could they make a person go crazy?”
“I would say so. I’ll do some more research and get back with you. I like to double-check my facts first.”
“Thanks, Doc.” As Lisa hung up, the bad feeling in her gut grew.
Was that what all of this boiled down to? Were Braden’s drugs the problem? Were they hindering him instead of helping his symptoms?
And, if that was case, how had this happened?
Had his general care physician not compared notes with his therapist? Had this been a careless mistake? Lisa had heard before about the care some veterans received at the military hospitals—it was subpar, at best. Was that what happened here?
She didn’t know.
But a new fire lit in her blood.
Lisa had to find out. She’d been so concerned about the drugs themselves that she hadn’t paid attention to the prescribing physician. He should be listed on the label.
Before she could do anything else, there was a knock at her door.
It was Mac, and he didn’t look happy.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he started. “And it’s about Braden.”
Braden stood on the porch, his head feeling clearer than it had in months.
He hadn’t taken his medications last night. Yes, Dr. Larson had emphasized that he needed to. He’d told Braden about the dire repercussions that might be experienced if Braden missed just one dose.
But right now, Braden would take the anxiety. The pain. The sleeplessness. He’d take those ailments if it meant things would make sense. He figured the best time to test his theory was while Austin and Wes were there.
As the tremors started in his hands, something tried to return to his memory.
Mind over matter. Dissecting the truth from the lies. Listening to the voice of truth and allowing it to drown out everything else.
It was the recipe for change.
Who had told him that?
Flashes of memories seemed to want to return to him. He couldn’t explain it. But images—images that almost seemed like dreams—kept flashing in his mind.
Memories of kissing someone.
Eating apple pie.
Feeling overflowing with happiness.
And Lisa.
Whenever he thought of any of those things, Lisa’s image was somehow connected.
Braden raked a hand through his hair.
She’d kissed him last night, and her touch had seemed to spark something inside his brain. He hadn’t wanted to let her go—and he had no idea why. He only had vague inclinations that they were more than mere friends.
And not remembering those details frustrated him the most.
He stared out over the dunes and drew in a deep breath. Maybe he’d take a quick walk to the ocean. It was cold outside today. Bitterly cold. But he didn’t care. He needed to try and clear his head.
But first he went inside to grab his phone. He’d left it on his bedside table, where he charged the cell every night. But the device was gone.
What? Had he misplaced it? He found that hard to believe.
Braden looked a few more places but couldn’t find the phone. When had he made a call last?
He couldn’t remember.
He raked a hand through his hair again. Apparently, he needed that walk by the ocean now more than ever.
Listening to the waves, feeling the salty air, enjoying the sand beneath his feet—that could be the best therapy sometimes. As his memory issues continued to plague him, that seemed like the best medicine.
Braden decided to look for his phone later. For now, he trudged down the stairs and began crossing the dune at a path that cut through the grass.
As he crested the incline, something buried in the grass caught his eye.
What was that?
Out of curiosity, he slipped between the sea oats to retrieve the objects. He leaned down and picked them up. A hammer and sandpaper.
Had the people who’d done construction on Ty’s house left this here?
He turned the sandpaper over.
A dark reddish-brown stain was there.
His breath caught.
Was that blood?
Braden looked at the hammer as well. Remains of some kind of liquid had dried on the edges.
Blood.
He was sure of it.
He glanced at his hands—his bruised and sore hands.
His throat went dry. Had these objects been used by someone to make his hands look like this?
It sounded crazy.
Yet it didn’t sound crazy at all.
What was going on here?
Because maybe this wasn’t about terrorists bent on killing him.
No, maybe this was more about someone bent on ruining Braden’s life.
But who?
Who else had he made angry enough to do this?
He had a feeling that the memory was just out of his grasp.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You can’t be serious,” Lisa said, staring at Mac. They hadn’t moved beyond the back entrance to her restaurant, and now she felt floored, like her feet had grown roots.
Mac nodded grimly. “I wish I weren’t.”
She leaned back against the wall, feeling lightheaded. “I don’t know what to say.”
“All I know is that a gun was found in a ditch near where John Linski was attacked. The bullet found after someone shot out your window matches the ballistics of this gun.”
“And the gun is registered to Braden Dillinger,” Lisa finished, hating the grinding feeling in her gut.
Mac offered a tight-lipped smile. “Unfortunately, yes.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out that bullet casing Braden had given her. She’d thought it had been a beautiful symbol of hope. But had Braden actually been taunting her this whole time?
“Please tell me this doesn’t match also.” Her voice cracked as she said the words.
Mac took it from her, studied it, and then glanced up, a new gleam in his gaze. “Where did you get this?”
She didn’t want to answer but she did anyway. “Braden gave it to me.”
His frown grew larger. “It matches, Lisa. And there’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We found a phone nearby and managed to pull up the messages. Lisa, it sounds like Braden may have been conspiring with someone to scare you. There were some unusual texts and even a picture of you.”
“A picture of me?” The blood drained from her face.
“It was taken from the outside of the restaurant. At night.”
“Yeah, I remember a stranger doing that. Are you saying it was Braden this whole time?”
“I’m saying that’s what it looks like.”
Lisa’s face went into her hands. “Why did Braden goad me this whole time? Did he give this to me to rub it in that I was naïve?”
“I don’t know. But I’m getting a warrant right now for his arrest.”
“You’re arresting him? For this? Or for John?”
“John still isn’t awake. But our case is growing against Braden, as far as him committing that crime as well.”
“I just didn’t think this was possible. I’ve been defending him.” Her heart felt like it was deflating inside her.
“I know you have, Lisa. And I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But I would stay away from him. It appears he’s not the man you think he is.”
Someone rapped on the door and nearly made Lisa jump out of her skin. She turned and saw Doc Clemson’s face through the glass atop the back door. Quickly, she let him inside.
“Is ever
ything okay?” she rushed.
“I’m not sure.” He pulled his gloves off but gone was his normal jovial personality. “I researched those medications, and I wanted to tell you face-to-face what I found out.”
She braced herself for whatever he was going to say. The day had already been a doozy, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t get much better from here. “Okay . . .”
“Lisa, the effects of mixing those prescriptions would cause someone to have a psychotic reaction.”
“What?”
Doc Clemson nodded. “If your friend—or whoever is taking these medications—is taking all of them at the same time, the results could be catastrophic.”
Her heart pounded in her ears as she absorbed his words. “Wouldn’t the doctors have known that?”
“I’d hope so. Who’s his or her doctor?”
“I don’t know about his general physician. But I think his therapist prescribed some, if not most, of them. I was just going to check the labels again to see. I have photos on my phone.”
“You’re talking about Braden, aren’t you?” Mac asked.
Lisa shrugged, guilt pressing on her. “He’s not aware that I saw his medications. But his therapist is in town. Just showed up yesterday. Dr. Larson.”
“Dr. Larson?” Clemson said. “He has thick glasses and thinning gray hair, right?”
“That’s right. How do you know him?”
“I met him on the ferry. His wallet fell out, and, when I picked it up for him, I saw his name on his driver’s license.”
“You were on the ferry yesterday?”
“No, that was three days ago . . .”
Lisa sucked in a breath, and her gaze swerved toward Mac. “We need to go to Braden’s. Now.”
“I’m going to call the rental agencies and see if we can find out where this Dr. Larson guy is staying,” Mac said. “I’d suggest you stay away from Braden for now—until we know what’s going on.”
Doc’s pager went off, and he glanced down at it. “And I just got called back to the clinic. No rest for the weary.”
“You stay here, Lisa, okay?” Mac said, a fatherly tone to his voice. “Until we know something, you need to stay put with your doors locked. The situation could turn ugly.”
She nodded, understanding the gravity of this ordeal all too well. “Okay . . . I will. But Braden . . .”
He was in danger. Did he even realize any of this? Everything that had happened . . . he’d been set up, hadn’t he?
“The safest place he can be is at the police station. Trust me on this one.”
Her throat tightened, but she tried to hold her anxiety back. “Okay. Thanks, you guys.”
As they left, Lisa locked the door behind them. Her heart pounded out of control.
The whole picture hadn’t come together in her mind, but what she did see, she didn’t like. Was Dr. Larson somehow responsible for what was going on with Braden? If so, why? What motive could he possibly have?
She couldn’t sit still. She had too much energy. Too much to think about. Instead, she paced into the dining area.
As soon as Lisa stepped past the kitchen door, she heard a step behind her and then a click.
Slowly, breathlessly, she pivoted.
Dr. Larson stood there, a gun in his hand.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Good morning,” someone called in the distance.
Braden looked over and saw Pastor Jack standing on the beach. He clenched the items in his hands before shoving the sandpaper into his pocket and the hammer through his belt.
He tried to say something to Jack. But the flashes were coming faster, more quickly.
His hands went to his temples, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
What kind of memories were there? They were so close to coming into focus.
“Braden?” Jack asked, pausing at the base of the sand dune and looking concerned. “I was just taking a walk and . . .”
Braden didn’t hear the rest of what he said. No, suddenly, Braden was back in the small apartment in France.
France?
Yes, he was working a job for the military. Black ops.
If he was discovered, the government would deny they’d authorized the mission.
This was a meeting place for The Revolt. They’d gone outside American soil to plan their missions.
He opened a drawer and saw a black notebook inside. He opened it.
Names were listed there.
Names of Revolt members.
He scanned them, holding the book closer so he could see in the darkness of the room.
His gaze stopped at one name.
Was that . . .?
No, it couldn’t be.
But it was.
He knew someone on this list. He knew a member of The Revolt.
But . . . how could this person betray his country like this?
He shoved the book into his pocket as he heard a noise outside the apartment.
He had to get out of here.
Moving quickly, he headed toward the window. He’d leave down the fire escape.
But just as he shoved the window open, an explosion sounded.
And it was the last thing Braden had remembered until he woke up in a military hospital.
And the book had been gone.
“Braden?” Jack repeated.
Braden jerked his gaze toward the pastor. “I need your help.”
“Sure thing. What’s going on?”
“Can you give me a ride somewhere? Right now?”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
Lisa sucked in a breath, wondering if Dr. Larson had been there long enough to hear all of her conversation with Mac and Doc Clemson. Her guess was that he had.
“How did you get inside?” Her voice trembled.
Malice gleamed in his eyes. “It’s really not that hard to pick a lock.”
“Why would you do this?” She stepped back, looking around for a weapon. There was nothing. Nothing. All her knives were located on the other side of the breakfast bar, well out of reach.
“You shouldn’t worry your pretty little head over that.”
“Considering you have a gun pointed at me, I think I will. I gave you pie, and this is your response?”
He chuckled. “Good one. But pie doesn’t fix everything.”
“My grandma always said it did.”
“She sounds charming.”
Her thoughts shifted from trying to change his mind to trying to figure out what he was thinking. “What are you going to do with me?”
He shrugged. “You know too much. At first, I just wanted to frighten you. But now it’s apparent that I have to do more.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
A sound cut through the tension. It almost sound like a hand. Hitting glass.
Lisa jerked her head toward the front of the restaurant.
Braden.
Braden stood there.
He pressed himself into the door and pounded. His eyes looked full of rage.
“Let me in!” he shouted.
Dr. Larson laughed, not the least bit flustered by Braden’s presence. “I kind of figured this would happen.”
Braden. Braden was here.
But would he be able to help in time?
“Why are you doing this?” Lisa asked, taking a step back.
Could she run? No, the door was too far away. And the doctor had a gun.
“It’s a long story,” Dr. Larson said. “I’d love to fill you in, but I might have to bill you. I’m pretty expensive per hour.”
The coldness by which he said the words sent another shiver up her spine. He was determined to see this through, and he didn’t seem to have any emotions to appeal to. Lisa didn’t know much about criminals, but he seemed like the most dangerous kind.
“You were behind all of this. You set Braden up. You wanted him to take the blame for everything.”
The cor
ner of his lip twitched, like he wanted to smile. “There’s a certain art to being subtle. I figured this would be the ultimate justice. Braden could take the fall for everything—from John to those stupid copper wires. I messed with his mind. Did everything I could to push him over the edge. But when he met you, all of that seemed to fall by the wayside.”
Her gaze swerved back toward Braden.
He was gone. He had disappeared from the door.
Lisa’s heart pounded even harder. Where had he gone? Had he given up?
Then she heard something slam in the rear of the building.
The back door, she realized. Braden was coming in through the back door.
A temporary sag of relief caught her by surprise.
The doctor lunged at her. Before she realized what was happening, Dr. Larson grabbed her arm. She sucked in a quick breath as he shoved the gun to her head.
This man could kill her. Easily. With just a jerk of his finger.
“Let her go.” Braden’s voice sounded steely as he stepped from the back of the restaurant.
Satisfaction lit the doctor’s voice. “Why would I do that? I already have a great story worked out. One where you kill Lisa before killing yourself. I’ll be here to witness it all and testify to what happened. Of course, I’ll say I tried to stop you.”
Braden’s jaw flexed. “Because I remembered. I remembered everything. And now we need to end this.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Braden stared down the doctor, disgust boiling inside him.
“You didn’t remember anything.” Dr. Larson practically spit out the words, an air of self-righteousness about him.
“Oh, but I did. I remembered all of it.”
“It’s not possible!”
Being off his medication had pushed away some of the clouds from Braden’s mind. Then he’d realized that only one person made sense as the culprit. Dr. Larson.
As Jack drove him here, Braden had used his phone to call his old commanding officer. As they’d spoken, Braden had realized that Thomas’s death had affected the doctor entirely more than Braden had assumed.
Facts—and memories—began clicking in place. And, with each new fact, came a new memory. It was like doors began opening in his mind.
Shadow of Intrigue Page 15
