Page 19 of A Veteran's Protection
AIDEN
While Lexi finishes up with Mark, I slip out of the office to make a phone call.
Owen picks up on the first ring.
“I need you to look into something for me.”
“Tell me.”
Owen doesn’t hesitate. He’s a fellow veteran and the acting sheriff of Hope, making him a good guy to have on speed dial.
I explain about the lawyers turning up at the property and give him the plates, and he promises to run them and get back to me.
“There’s something else. Did you know Vaughan Reilly?” I ask.
“As much as anyone in town knew Vaughan. He kept to himself. Was never the same after he returned from the Gulf War.”
“He was in the military?”
“Sure was. The First Gulf War. I remember him from when I was a boy. He was friendly with my father. When they were on leave together, they’d have a beer in the Landing, and I’d play with the other kids in the park across the street.”
“What happened?”
“Vaughan received an honorable discharge, and he was never the same. He stayed in that big house all on his own. It was heading into disrepair before he passed away.”
A woman pushing a stroller passes me on the street, and I wait for her to go before asking my next question.
“Do you remember how he died?”
“Some kind of road accident. Sheriff Parker was in charge then, and I was away at the time. I only heard about it when I came back.”
I explain about the will only being made three weeks before, and I can practically hear the sheriff’s suspicious mind turning over.
“Do you think you can pull the file and take a look?”
“Sure. But let’s keep this between us for now. I don’t want to start a rumor we can’t prove.”
“Of course.”
I hang up the phone as Lexi comes out of the lawyer’s office. She’s holding the paperwork that gives her ownership of the property, but for how long?
It’s time to take her back home and give her some reasons to stay.
Back at my place, Lexi toes off her sneakers and dumps her coat on the back of a chair as if she owns the place, which is fine by me. If I have my way, she’ll be moving in soon enough, bringing her light and energy and making my cabin a home.
She sinks into the couch, holding up the paperwork.
“I don’t understand any of it. Why would he only make his will three weeks before he died, and why include me when he never met me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe he wanted to reach out earlier but couldn’t.”
I take the paperwork out of her hands and put it on the coffee table as I sit next to her.
“Or maybe he did,” she murmurs. “He might’ve reached out, but my mom might’ve blocked him.”
She hasn’t spoken much about her living parent, but I get the sense there’s more to tell here.
“Would your mom do something like that?”
