Chapter 25
SANTIAGO
My eyes glaze over as I sort through the monotonous stack of junk mail. Credit card offers, store catalogs, fast food coupons.
Groaning, I collapse onto the floral sofa. “I hate going to the coroner’s office. It’s cold as hell.”
“We live in Wyoming.” Levi’s voice is monotone as he searches through Reverend Ricks’s kitchen cabinets.
Our assignment today was to meet with the coroner in Jackson, then search through the reverend’s home.
“Yeah, but it feels significantly colder in there.”
Ricks’s two-bedroom home sits on a corner lot only a block away from the church. The modest home is well-maintained without being extravagant. The beige siding, white trim, and neatly shoveled walkways feel as if there was no room for chaos.
Nothing about this house stands out.
But that's probably the point.
I rest my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes. “Did Walk say anything else on the phone when you told him that Adler confirmed that the victim was Reverend Ricks?”
“Nope,” Levi answers in the same tone, his attention on the task in front of him.
Heaving myself up, I meander to the plain roll-top desk in the corner of the living room. Using the knob, I pull the roll-top upward. Just like the rest of his home, everything is neatly in place.
Sliding open the center drawer, I find ballpoint pens, paper clips, and several church bulletins perfectly organized. The small side drawers contain nothing more than stationery and tax documents.
Hunched into a crouch, I open one of the lower file drawers. “If the killer is ‘collecting debts,’ then what’s the reverend’s debt?”
“Who knows?” Levi responds, still scouring the kitchen. “Or maybe Emmett has it wrong, and this killer isn’t some kind of vigilante.”
I shake my head as my eyes scan over old insurance documents. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel like random acts of violence.”
“So…” Levi’s voice draws closer. “Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“What elephant?” I ask back.
Levi enters the still living room, leaning his shoulder against the wall and facing me. “Blake.”
“Blake.”
Interlocking my fingers together, I place them behind my head and sit up, resting backward in the old chair as it creaks. “I’m telling her you called her an elephant.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Levi gives me an annoyed look.
I jokingly roll my eyes. “Okay. What about Blake?”
“We both like her,” Levi states, leaving no room for argument.
I nod. “That’s an understatement.”
Levi folds his arms with a sigh. “What are we going to do? Sharing someone in bed is different than sharing full-time.”
“Communicate. Duh.” I shrug like the solution is apparent.
“We should talk to her about it,” Levi emphasizes.
I flash a wry grin. “Stating the obvious, mi amor.”
“But what about Walk?” Levi chews on his lip, finally getting to the point.
My brows lift. “Ah. Yeah. That’s a different conversation.”
“One that needs to happen.”
“We’ll make it happen,” I assure him, then return to my search.
“I told her.”
I ask for clarification as I open another drawer. “About what?”
“Us.”
Levi's answer pulls me up short. I pause and look up at him, needing to see his expression as much as I need to hear his words. “How’d she take it?”
He nods his head and gives me a half smile. “I think we’re good to keep going.”
“Then we’ll keep going.” I agree with him.
Levi nods, satisfied with my response, then returns to the kitchen to finish the search. I follow his lead and do the same.
In the last drawer, a small black leather planner is stashed beneath a stack of envelopes and stamps. I lay it out on the desktop and flip through the pages.
I raise my voice a fraction to get Levi’s attention. “The reverend’s calendar is color-coded. Green for medical, blue for church duties, yellow for social or recreation.”
“At least he’s organized,” he shouts back.
“Come here,” I call to him. When Levi reenters, I scoot the chair to the side, making room for him, and point to my observation. “He has three hours blocked off in his calendar every Saturday.”
Levi flips from week to week, discovering the same thing I did. “Does it say anywhere what he’s doing?”
“No. It’s just marked in red.” I shrug.
“Anything else in there marked red?” He questions.
“No,” I respond.
Levi slides the book closer to me. “What do you think he was doing?”
“I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it might be what made him a target.” I suggest.
“You think his weekly appointment is what connects him and Derek?” Levi asks for clarification.
Shifting my posture, I remark, “I think we’re looking at a killer who doesn’t care who you are. I think he judges your actions.”
Levi pulls out his phone, shooting off a text. “I’ll let Walk know we need to pull phone and financial records.”
“That’ll go over well with a judge.” Changing my voice, I imitate a young na?ve officer. “Sir, we need a warrant to search bank accounts for a local church that you probably attend.”
Levi sticks with his optimism. “Walk probably knows a judge who would sign.”
“Not a single judge would sign the last warrant he drafted,” I argue, resting my chin in my hand.
Levi gives me a sidelong glance. “That warrant was for Emmett to identify his source. Warrants like that usually don’t get signed. Freedom of speech and all that.”
Done with the debate, I bury my nose back in the planner, scouring for a key or something that will help me understand what the red means. Levi stocks off, probably going to search another part of the house.
“Do you smell that?” Levi shouts to me from another room.
Sticking my nose in the air like a dog, I sniff. “Is that a gas leak?”
“I don’t smell anything burning, so it must be,” Levi replies.
“I’ll check the kitchen and living room. You check the bedroom and bathroom.” I direct as I hop to my feet and head for the kitchen.
I examine every line, hose, and connection, anything that could possibly have a gas leak, but I find everything in working order. Returning to the living room, I hunt for anything that could possibly use gas.
Again, nothing.
The sound of a splash catches my attention. At first, I assume it's Levi in the bathroom, but when I hear it again, I discern that the sound is coming from outside.
Peering through the curtains of the large window in the living room that looks out over the front lawn, I discover the source.
A man dressed head to toe in black holds a red gas can upside down, spilling its contents across the front porch.
The man must feel me watching because he stops, his attention snapping to me.
A ski mask covers his face, and all I can see are his steel eyes.
They narrow, sharpening with a venomous anger.
I keep my eyes on him as I holler, “Levi!”
“Levi!”
“What’s going on?” Levi questions as he comes running.
I point to the man who has resumed pouring out the gas.
Levi’s eyes stare at the man, unable to blink.
“Shit!” Levi darts for the front door, turning the knob to pull it open, but it stops with a rattle.
“It’s chained,” he communicates to me with a frustrated grit.
Lifting his foot, he braces it on the frame of the door and grabs the doorknob with both hands. Levi uses his foot as leverage as he yanks on the door, trying to break the chain.
“Stop that,” I command. “You’re going to pull a muscle.”
Levi glimpses at the man through the small window at the top of the door. “Is that a match?”
My heart hammers in my chest as I glance out the window and find the masked man holding a lit match. “Fuck!”
“We can’t just run at him,” Levi reasons. “He’ll just throw the match at us, and we don’t know all the spots he poured the gas.”
“So we’re just going to sit here?” I questioned frantically. Taking another peek, I don't want to lose sight of the man. Our situation is precarious enough.
The man's focus ping-pongs back and forth between Levi at the door and me at the window.
I can't see more than his eyes, but the way they pinch at the corners tells me that he's enjoying this. He tips his head toward the sky and belts out a maniacal laugh—one that chills me to my bones. He takes one more look at us, then turns and walks down the lawn toward the street.
My eyes squint quizzically. “Where the hell is he going?”
Levi remains silent as we both observe the man, waiting for any sudden movements that will force us to spring into action. He's about to step off the curb when he tosses the match over his shoulder, and it lands in the grass, instantly igniting it.
“Get a fire extinguisher!” I yell at Levi as I run to the desk, pick up the chair, and hurl it through the window.
The glass shatters, breaking into a million pieces with a high-pitched crack. Having found a fire extinguisher like I told him to, Levi jumps through the broken window and sprays the chemicals on the fire.
I rush out after him using my boots to stomp out the smaller fires.
I assume someone called 911 because by the time we have the fire extinguished I can hear sirens speed in our direction.
“Where did that sucker go?” I ask as I pant from exertion, resting my hands on my hips and tilting my head back.
“I don't know,” Levi answers. “But look.”
I glance in the direction he points to with his finger. Tilting my head to the side, I tried to make out the burned letters in the grass. “What does that say?”
“What does that say?”
“Hypocrite.” Levi breathes out in a whisper.
Our eyes connect, and the paralyzing shock emanating from his person matches my own.
“We need to call Walk.”