Chuck versus The Last Wish

Chapter 22 – Maltese Falcon

While Chuck and Morgan investigated down at Castle, Sarah followed her own line of thinking from the apartment.

She knew the boys weren't getting anywhere searching for Mariana. But Sarah approached the problem from a different angle. She was a spy, after all, and if what Chuck had told her over breakfast was true, they shouldn't be looking for Mariana Cruz at all. They should be looking for Sarah Walker. Whatever alias she was using, she would still think like Sarah Walker. Sarah sat at her laptop on the couch, bypassing the standard CIA, NSA, and Defense databases to dig into mundane government records —building permits, county registries, medical records.

She began eliminating possibilities systematically. If Mariana couldn't leave the country, where would she go? Not a major city—too many cameras. Not completely rural, either—small towns remembered strangers. She queried health insurance claims, passport renewals, and private lease agreements.

Nothing.

Sarah leaned back, tapping her pen softly against the table. “No… I wouldn't do it that way either.”

If Mariana really possessed Sarah Walker's memories, she wouldn't leave a paper trail in standard databases—Sarah had spent years learning how to ghost those exact systems.

She leaned over the keyboard again. What would she need? An apartment, a cover job, cash, an alias.

And coffee. A faint smile touched her lips.

She ran searches for cash-only transactions and unmonitored security feeds, then paused, her gaze drifting from the screen.

“If I were me…”

Slowly, her fingers moved across the keys, scanning library memberships, community pools, gym passes—low-friction places where nobody asked questions.

Minutes ticked by. Still nothing.

Sarah leaned back with a sigh. “I'm overthinking this.”

She walked into the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee. Returning to the couch as the search scripts ran uselessly across the screen, she set her mug down—and froze.

“No…”

She sat back down, her hands hovering above the keys.

“I'm not looking for where she'd hide. I'm looking for… what she wouldn't be able to stop herself from doing.”

Because if Mariana truly believed she was Sarah Walker, she hadn't just inherited memories—she had inherited reflexes and deeply ingrained habits. Sarah launched a final query. This time, she wasn't hunting a missing operative. She was searching for herself.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sarah ran the queries repeatedly, but the screen returned nothing. She rubbed her eyes, exhaling quietly.

“Think.”

She stood and paced across the room to stare out at the garden. “If I were me… what would I want?”

Peace.

She sat back down, abandoning standard name searches to hunt for a lifestyle instead. Bypassing CIA servers, she pulled up federal employee records—specifically recent hires in remote national park assignments. Her scrolling halted on a single entry: Lisa Walker. Age thirty-six. Hired six months ago at Yosemite National Park.

“Show me…” Sarah whispered, clicking open the personnel file.

A badge photo loaded onto the monitor—a woman in a green ranger uniform and baseball cap. The photograph was grainy and half-cast in shadow, but Sarah froze.

The posture, the set of the shoulders, the guarded look in her eyes—there was no mistaking it.

Position: Park Ranger.

Sarah let out a slow breath. “Found you.”

She grabbed a sweater, her phone, and the keys to the Lotus. At the front door, she hesitated, then turned back toward the bedroom. When she reemerged, she adjusted her leather jacket over the gun tucked into her waistband.

Stopping in the kitchen, she scribbled a note on a slip of paper: I went after Mariana.

She grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her, never noticing Alex watching her walk away down the hall.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sarah stared at her phone's screen: Chuck.

She quietly sighed. “I'm sorry.” She powered off the device.

The Lotus rolled along the winding roads of Yosemite National Park, afternoon light filtering through towering sequoias. Tourists and families strolled along peaceful trails, making it easy to understand why someone seeking peace would choose this place. She parked at the visitor center and stepped inside the cool administration building, where trail maps and vintage photos lined the timber walls. Behind the counter, a ranger in his seventies was sorting folders. He looked up with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon. I'm looking for my sister—Lisa Walker.”

The old man nodded. “Lisa's on duty today.”

Sarah exhaled softly. “Good. I'm Sarah Walker.”

She extended her hand. The old ranger took it automatically, but as he looked her over, his smile faded, and his brow furrowed.

“Well… I'll be damned,” he muttered. “Miss, you're the spitting image of your sister. If you hadn't introduced yourself, I'd have thought Lisa just got a new haircut.”

Sarah kept her smile polite while a cold chill ran through her. “Where can I find her?”

The ranger pulled out a park map. “She's patrolling Glacier Point today, near the southern trail.” He smiled fondly.  “Tell her Frank says he's still waiting on her overdue reports.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you finally came to visit your sister.”

“Yeah…” Sarah murmured, almost to herself. “I'm curious to meet her, too.”

“Ben!” Frank called toward the back office.

A sun-weathered ranger in his forties stepped out.

“Yes, Frank?”

“Lisa's sister is looking for her.”

The ranger turned to Sarah with a warm nod. “Ben Carter. Lisa's out near Glacier Point. I can give you a lift—you'd never make it on foot before dark.”

Sarah offered a faint smile. “Then I'll gladly accept the ride.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Ben's green-and-white SUV pulled out of the parking lot, the engine rumbling quietly as they climbed the mountain road.

Sarah rolled down her window. Cool air scented with pine and resin filled the cabin as giant sequoias rose like endless pillars toward golden streaks of sunlight carrying the scent of pine and resin flowed into the cabin. The winding forest road opened onto breathtaking valley views. Far below, the Merced River glittered like a silver ribbon, framed by towering granite cliffs and distant, misting waterfalls. Ben noticed her staring. “First time here?”

“Yeah.”

“Most people think the photographs exaggerate it,” he said with a smile. “It's actually the other way around. No photograph can capture it.”

Sarah didn't answer, letting the wind stir her hair as she watched the landscape. For a fleeting moment, she forgot why she was there.

Around the next bend, a doe and two fawns crossed the pavement. Ben slowed down. “They always get the right of way here.”

They watched the deer disappear into the ferns, followed shortly by a bald eagle soaring over the valley.

“Incredible…” Sarah murmured.

“That's why everyone who comes here ends up staying,” Ben said quietly. “Somehow, this place doesn't let you go.”

Sarah couldn't help thinking Yosemite hadn't let go of Mariana, either. Maybe that was why she'd chosen this life.

The road gave way to a narrow dirt track, leaving the tourists far behind. Only the crunch of gravel beneath the tires, broken by a distant woodpecker, filled the air. Ben slowed near a clearing where a park service pickup sat with its door open, the bed scattered with traffic cones and gear. A woman bent down to pick up an orange marker stake.

“There's Lisa,” Ben said.

Sarah's eyes locked onto her. At first, she only noticed the movements—the way the woman straightened, instinctively scanned the perimeter, and tilted her head before turning around. Sarah's stomach tightened. It wasn't her face. It wasn't the same woman. But every single movement was frighteningly, impossibly familiar.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Chuck didn't notice the empty parking spot in the courtyard until he stepped out of his car.

“That's weird…”

He grabbed his backpack and walked past the fountain, the steady splash of water filling the sunlit space. Chuck unlocked the apartment door. “Sarah?”

Silence.

He closed the door, scanning the empty living room where Sarah's book sat beside a half-empty coffee mug.

“She must be in the garden…” Chuck muttered, stepping onto the patio. “Sarah?”

Only the fountain answered.

Stepping back inside, his eyes landed on the key rack—the hook for the Lotus was bare. The smile vanished from his face. He called her phone. It rang through to voicemail. Panic setting in, he checked the bedroom, bathroom, and study. She had left—not later, not after they had talked, but now, just when things were finally working between them. His heart pounded as he hurried into the kitchen. On the counter beside the fruit bowl lay a yellow sticky note:

I went after Mariana. – Sarah

Chuck froze, the paper trembling in his hand. “Oh, no…”

He dialed her number again—still nothing.

Turning around, he caught sight of the open laptop on the coffee table. Search queries filled the screen: federal employee registries, Yosemite National Park, and the personal file for Lisa Walker.

“Yosemite…” Chuck swallowed hard, glancing at the clock and then out the window.

He sprinted across the courtyard to Morgan's door, pounding on it until Alex opened up. Her smile instantly vanished at the look on his face.

“What happened?”

“Sarah left,” Chuck blurted, pushing past her.

“Morgan!” Alex called out.

Morgan leaned over the upstairs railing. “What's wrong?”

“Sarah left!”

“What?” Morgan stared in disbelief. “But things were going so well…”

“She found Mariana!”

“Jesus!”

Alex cut in. “I saw her walk out this morning.”

Chuck ran the math in his head. “Damn it.”

“What do we do?” Morgan asked.

“We go after her. I just need to make one call.” Chuck pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Beckman. “General. We found Mariana, but Sarah went after her alone. I need a favor—fast.” He paused, listening. “Yosemite National Park. Yes, ma'am… we're ready.”

Morgan watched him expectantly.

Chuck lowered the phone. “I got us a ride.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

The woman slowly straightened, holding the orange marker stake. Ben stopped the SUV. “Lisa! You've got a visitor.”

The woman turned, her smile freezing the moment her eyes met Sarah's —not in shock, but recognition. For several seconds, they simply stared at each other as the wind rustled through the pines.

“Thanks, Ben,” the woman said. Her voice hit Sarah like a blow—the same calm, low cadence.

Ben climbed out of the SUV. “I figure you two have things to talk about. I'll go check on that fallen tree along the ridge. Radio me when you're done.”

“Okay,” the woman replied.

Ben nodded and disappeared down the trail, his axe resting over his shoulder. Silence settled over the clearing. The woman set down the stake, every movement—the posture, the head tilt, the weight shift—a mirror image of Sarah's own body language.

“Lisa?” Sarah asked cautiously.

The woman gave a faint smile. “I use my middle name. It's easier that way.”

Sarah said nothing, her hand instinctively drifting toward the gun at her waist.

The woman raised her hands slowly. “No need for that.” Her eyes traveled over Sarah before she asked unexpectedly, “How's Chuck?”

Sarah felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. “What?”

“Chuck,” the woman repeated with a gentle smile. “Is he okay?”

Nausea surged through Sarah—not at the words, but at the pitch-perfect warmth in the woman's tone. It was her own voice, her own tenderness.

“How… Do you know about Chuck?”

The woman lowered her gaze. “I know it sounds strange, but whenever I think about him… I just feel like I miss him.”

Sarah's throat went dry.

The woman looked back up. “I've been wondering when you'd finally come.”

“You were waiting for me?” Sarah whispered.

“Of course.” The woman gestured to her pickup. “My cabin isn't far. We can talk somewhere quieter.”

Every tactical instinct screamed at Sarah not to lose control of the situation, but looking at the woman, she didn't see an enemy—she saw someone shattered.

“Okay,” Sarah nodded.

The pickup engine rumbled to life, tree shadows sweeping rhythmically across the windshield as Mariana drove. Mariana held the wheel with casual precision, checking blind spots and mirrors before every bend—the exact sequence Sarah used.

Sarah clenched her fist in her lap. This wasn't an act. The woman beside her had stolen her reflexes, her gestures, her very heart. And that frightened Sarah more than any weapon ever could.