Page 118 of Travis
Epilogue - Sera
Sera
Six Weeks Later
“The Bureau sent two agents,” I said. “Suits, government sedan, the whole production. Walked into the sheriff’s office like they owned the building.”
Lark wrapped both hands around her mug and leaned forward. “What did Lachlan do?”
“Played the small-town sheriff to a T, from what I understand. Travis said he wouldn’t be surprised if he went all Andy Griffith on them.”
Lark chuckled. “I could see that.”
“He offered them coffee, sat them down, answered every question like he had all the time in the world and nothing to hide.” I took a sip of my latte. Lena Williams at Deja Brew had learned my order three weeks ago, which still felt like a minor miracle. Someone in this town knew how I took my coffee. “They asked about Travis specifically. Former CIA, connected to the original Kindt operation. Fit the profile of the Ghost on paper.”
“And?”
“And Lachlan told them exactly what everyone else in Garnet Bend told them. Travis is agoraphobic. Never leaves his house. The man gets groceries delivered and hasn’t been seen in town in three years.” I set my mug down. “Which, until recently, was basically true.”
“How many people did they talk to?”
“At least a dozen. The woman at the grocery store who handles his delivery orders. The guy who services his propane tank. A couple of the Resting Warrior guys. Every single person said the same thing, almost word for word. Probably would’ve talked to you, too, if you hadn’t been off delivering that service dog.”
Lark’s mouth curved. “Small towns protect their own. Especially against big city cops who don’t give a damn about us.”
“Helped that no one had to get their story straight. They were just telling the truth.”
I’d grown up in a suburb where the neighbors couldn’t pick each other out of a lineup. Garnet Bend operated on a different frequency entirely. And I was finding I liked it more and more. I was part of their inner circle now.
“Without physical evidence tying Travis to anything, they had nowhere to go. The case file is still technically open, but Lachlan says the energy behind it is gone. They got Kindt, and his operation is gone. That’s what mattered.”
“And you?”
This was the part I’d been working up to. Not because it was hard to say, but because saying it out loud made it final.
“I resigned. Before they could fire me.” I turned the mug in my hands. “I told Pratt I’d accessed the operational dashboard because I hadn’t heard from him in a while, and I was worried. Kindt was dangerous, I knew the operation was active, and I was afraid something might have happened to Pratt.” I shrugged.“It was close enough to the truth that he believed it. But unauthorized access to an active operation from a contractor terminal? That was never going to end well.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“I’m more than okay with it. I spent three years in a cubicle trying to get people to listen to me. Nobody listened until it was almost too late.” I picked up my latte again. “So… meet the newest member of Warrior Security.”
Lark’s face lit up. “Seriously?”
“Comms, data analysis, operational support. Basically what I was already doing, except now the people I work with actually read my reports.” I couldn’t help the smile. “Travis is going to try active team missions. With the guys, in the field.”
Lark set her mug down slowly. “He’s going outside. Voluntarily. Repeatedly.”
“The hives haven’t stopped. The tremors still come. But he’s managing it. He drove into town twice last week.” I paused. “It’s not that the agoraphobia went away. It’s that he decided what’s out here is worth what it costs him.”
Lark reached across the table and squeezed my hand. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.
We sat with that for a moment. The coffee shop was quiet at this hour in the afternoon, just us and an older man reading a newspaper by the window and Lena restocking pastries behind the counter. I’d started coming here with Lark every few days, and it had become something I looked forward to in a way I hadn’t expected. A friend.
“How are the babies?” Lark asked.
“Thriving. The white one figured out how to open the pantry door. The gray one has claimed Travis’s keyboard as a personal sleeping surface. The black one hides behind the server rack and bats at cables that are worth more than my car. We still need names for them, though. It’s a process.”
She smiled. “Keeping all three was definitely an interesting choice.”
