Chapter 26
BLAKE
If this is what it’s like to be a detective, I’m sure glad I chose art. I want to run my head through the wall.
My room at Moose Gap Lodge isn’t much bigger than a shoebox.
The knotty pine paneling covering the walls gives the space a rustic charm that would be cozy if I weren't slowly losing my mind.
A double-sized bed occupies most of the room, leaving just enough space for a small desk, a dresser, and a pair of nightstands.
Snow clings to the outside of the window, shading the world beyond the glass a mixture of white and gray. The heater beneath the window rattles every few minutes, struggling to keep up with the freezing Wyoming winter.
When I first checked into Moose Gap Lodge, the room looked like another ordinary motel room.
My clothes were neatly placed in the closet and dresser. My toiletries were organized in the bathroom.
Not so much anymore.
Sketchbooks and charcoal pencils litter the desk. Evidence photos blanket the bed. Sticky notes occupy every available surface. Empty coffee cups crowd the nightstands, plus the empty mug that was filled with nasty motel coffee. I downed it like a shot of bourbon.
I’m pretty sure I’ve consumed enough caffeine this week to kill a horse.
The wall opposite the bed has disappeared beneath a collage of photographs, timelines, sketches, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes. I even have colored string connecting victims to locations, suspects to evidence, and theories to dead ends.
The only untouched part of the room belongs to Bear, who has claimed the patch of carpet directly in front of the rattling heater. He lies there wrapped in a blanket like a puppy burrito.
Most people would walk in and probably assume a conspiracy theorist had taken up residence. They’d see trash, chaos, and obsession. All that’s missing is the string to connect the thumbtacks.
I see a pattern trying to emerge.
Emphasis on trying.
It feels like a painting that isn’t quite done. A shadow too dark or a highlight too bright. The wall gives me the same feeling.
The answer is here. I know it is.
The problem is that I’ve been staring at this wall for so long that everything is starting to blur together.
There’s Derek Holt. He was setting fires around town—a fact that I’m not supposed to know. I may have taken a peek at the open file on Ridge’s desk this week while I was helping with another sketch.
Then there’s Reverend Ricks. I still don’t know what he was doing that got him on The Debt Collector’s radar.
I’m still wondering how the Evergreen Gazette figured out the motive.
Another item on the investigation list.
And the big question: How the hell does this connect to my stalker?
He lured me to the trailer park. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something, or maybe he’s trying to set me up.
Hopefully, he doesn’t figure out that I told Levi, Santiago, and Walker that he’s the reason I’m here.
As if the three of them weren’t already overprotective.
I think I’m going to have a heart attack just trying to figure this out.
A sharp knock at the door pulls me from my fun game of How-Long-Will-It-Take-Blake-To-Scream-And-Run-Away.
The notes slip from my fingers and scatter across the floor.
Bear sits up on his bed by the heater but doesn’t make a sound.
Assuming it’s safe, I shout through the door, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Cielito.”
Glancing around the room, I determine that there isn’t enough time to hide the evidence.
Or the evidence board.
Or the evidence connected to the evidence board.
Making a face, I ask in a whisper, “What do you think, Bear? Should I answer the door?” Bear sighs and angles his head. “You’re probably right.”
Opening the door a few inches, I block the space with my body. “Hey, Santi. What’s up? Can I help you with something?”
Santiago stands taller, peering over my head. “Are you hiding something?”
Closing the door a couple of inches, I leave enough room just for my face. “No. Why would you ask that?”
His gaze drops to the exposed skin of my legs, and my belly turns into a fluttering mess. Then I remember that all I’m wearing are a pair of loose sleep shorts and an oversized off-the-shoulder tee.
That’s my Friday night.
“Then why are you standing like that?” Santiago leans left.
I lean left and sport a fake frown. “Like what?”
He leans right. “Like you’re guarding Fort Knox.”
I lean right.
He gives me a look that is probably supposed to make me feel disciplined. “Blake.”
“Santiago,” I retort.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re making this weird.”
“I’m not making anything weird,” I argue. My mouth pinches as a thought occurs to me. “How did you find out which room I was in?”
“Blake,” he says with a squint, skipping over my question, “Do you have someone in there?”
Santiago doesn’t wait for me to answer and pushes his way inside.
Stepping out of the way, I sweep my arm out to my side and shut the door after him. “Come on in. I don’t need privacy.”
“What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is—” Santiago pauses, taking in the room. He points to the wall. “That’s a murder wall.”
“No.” My arms fold across my chest as I shrug. “It’s how I organize my thoughts.”
“Pictures of dead bodies.” He points again. “Murder wall.”
His amusement fades as his eyes evaluate all the notes, photographs, and sketches tacked up on the wall to the empty coffee cups. “You’ve been doing this by yourself?”
I simply nod.
Santiago takes his time looking over my mess as if he’s able to follow my thought trains. “Do you think it’s all connected? The texts and the Debt Collector.”
Sighing, I rub my eyes. “It’s one theory among thousands.”
Santiago examines the wall for another moment before looking back at me, and his expression changes.
“When’s the last time you slept or ate?” He studies me attentively.
My brows push together. “I don’t know.”
Santiago’s expression softens as he takes a step closer. “Blake.”
My hands shoot up defensively, warding him off. “I’m fine.”
He disregards my silent request and doesn’t stop until his arms are wrapped around my waist. The heat from his body pours into mine, sending ripples of anticipation through my veins.
Santiago traces a single finger under my right eye. “These dark circles beg to differ.”
My mouth pinches as I reply flatly. “You know just what to say to make me swoon.”
“You’re no help to anyone like this.” Santiago sweeps my hair over my shoulder.
“It’s not like Walk would actually let me help anyway,” I grumble.
“Walk knows you’re going to do what you want to do, but if he saw you like this,” Santiago gestures to the whole room, “he’d flip his shit. And who knows what Levi would do.”
“I can’t just ignore it,” I whisper into his shirt. “This is the whole reason I came back.”
“What I’m hearing is that you’re here for me.”
My stomach drops, and Santiago’s grin widens.
I rear my head back and widen my eyes. “That’s not exact—”
Santiago interrupts me with a swift, hard kiss, backing me against the door. “You’re here for me.”
He swipes his tongue into my mouth, forcing a moan from my throat.
“And Levi.”
His hands grip my ass as he kisses me again. My knee slides up, my leg hooking around his hip.
“And Walker.”
Pulling back, I narrow my eyes at him.
“You can’t deny it,” he disputes as he suppresses a smile. “How did you get the case files anyway?”
“You’re not so old that you don’t know what a copy machine is, right?” I tease.
“Brat,” he teases back. “Does Walk know you copied the files?”
Did I tell him? No.
Is it possible that Jolene did after she let me use the copier? Yes.
Santiago shakes his head. “Come on. We’re going out.” His hand reaches for the doorknob.
My fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him. “Where to?”
“Timberline.”
My brows shoot up. “Right now?”
“Why not?” He returns with a shrug.
“Because of this,” I return, dropping my hold on him and gesturing at my mess on the wall and my outfit.
Santiago waves his hand at the wall. “That’ll all be here tomorrow.” He takes a couple of steps backward. “As for this,” he motions to my clothes, “I can help with that right now.”
He spins on his heel and heads for the closet. He digs around, looking through my wardrobe.
“Santi, I’m tired,” I complain as I trudge over and toss myself onto the bed.
Santiago pauses his search and puts his hand on my mug. “Your cup is empty, and it’s still warm. I’m pretty sure you’re wired.” Then he pulls out a simple pair of wide-leg pants, a cropped tank, and a chunky cardigan and tosses the clothing at me.
Of course, he picks out an outfit that’s the perfect mix of cute and comfortable.
What is he? A fashion guru?
Setting the outfit aside, I shake my head. “I’ll pass this time.” He approaches me with a determined look. “What’re you—” He dips, wrapping his arms around my waist and digging his shoulder into my gut. When he stands, my world gets flipped upside down. “Santiago Ramirez! Put me down!”
“You’ll thank me later,” he says proudly as he gives my ass a calming pat. Santiago jostles me around as he squats, gathering my clothes.
“When pigs fly!” I shout. “Bear, get him!” I snap my fingers, hoping he comes to my rescue.
Bear stands, looks to Santiago and me, then turns in a circle, lying down with his back to me.
“Traitor.”
Santiago chuckles as he strides for the door. “Even Bear thinks you need a break.”
“I saved your life,” I plead with Bear.
“Technically, that was Levi,” Santiago corrects as he hauls me outside and marches to his truck. My body instantly freezes, and I momentarily regret not changing first.
However, being kidnapped by a six-foot-something rancher technically moves the accountability to him.
Reverently, Santiago sets me in the cab and buckles me in.
“I can do that,” I snap.
He just smirks. “But I do it so much better.”
When he rounds the hood, heading for his own door, I contemplate running back to my room and locking the door, but then I remember that I don’t have shoes on.
Great.
As Santiago slides in with me, he turns the key in the ignition and tosses me the clothes again. “You can change in here.”
“In front of you?” I question outraged.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, mi Cielo.” He returns smugly.
“I don’t have any—”
“Shoes?” He reaches his hand down to the floor and flings a pair of boots at me.
My boots.
When did he grab these?
My eyes narrow, and Santiago smiles back.
Looks like I’m going to Timberline tonight.