Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I end up staying late at the station to finish my paperwork, and after I send the preliminary narrative and photo log to the chief, I join the crew for dinner. The men have questions about what I found at the administration building, but I keep my answers surface-level.
Calder gives me a couple of long looks during the meal. We haven’t talked yet, but he can likely tell there’s more to the story by what I’m not saying.
Before I leave, I pull him and Weston out into the bay for privacy.
The three of us have talked about Elena Ramirez exactly once since she came to town. Weston heard about her arrival during a date with a talkative admin from the school superintendent’s office. After he confirmed it was the Elena Ramirez we knew, he told Calder and me, and the three of us spent an evening sitting around a fire, drinking beer, and pretending it didn’t matter.
Since then, we’ve all been on edge. We don’t have to say anything for it to be obvious. The air is different now in Moon Ridge. It’s heavy and thick.
“What’s up?” Weston asks, as Calder eyes me with a grim expression.
“School personnel files were accessed before the fire. One was singled out.”
Both men meet my eyes and instantly know.
Weston runs a hand through his hair. “You talk to her?”
I nod. “She wasn’t surprised.”
They’re both frowning. Calder’s eyes are narrowed.
I tell them about the black sedan and Elena’s reaction. “Either of you see anything? Not just yesterday, but recently?”
“I saw a car like that pulled over on the side of the road just outside of town last week,” Weston says. “It stood out as too clean and too slick, but I assumed it was noise left over from the Sentinel situation.”
Plenty of feds were around after the shitstorm that went down late last year at the Sentinel Security compound about a dozen miles out of town, but that’s clear now.
“Elena’s friends with their woman, isn’t she?” Calder asks.
Neither Weston nor I lifts a brow. We don’t talk about Elena, but we all know plenty.
“She is, but I don’t think this has anything to do with Kira,” I say. “Atlas and those guys would be all over it.”
“There’s been a black SUV loitering in sight of the general store.” Calder’s opening and closing compartment doors, checking latches while we talk. “Driver stays in the vehicle. Leaves after twenty to thirty minutes. Same tinted windows.”
“So we’ve got a file pulled, a fire set, and one or more cars lurking around town,” Weston says. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m going to go talk to her,” I say. “And we’re going to handle it.”
Elena’s home is one of the single-story renovated houses a few blocks from the center of town. It has a covered porch and a small yard bordered by a low fence. Her SUV is in the driveway, and light shines through the curtains in the front window.
When I knock at the door, she pulls aside the curtain to peer out, and I make a mental note to get her set up with a security system.
After a couple of clicks, the door opens just wide enough for me to see her face. “Can I help you?”
I give her a nod of greeting. “Do you have time to talk?”
She turns and looks inside for a moment before looking back at me. “It’s my son’s bedtime, and I usually read to him. I thought you’d come to see me at the school.”
“This is off the record.”
Her brow furrows, and the fingers holding the door tighten their grip. “I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Would you like to wait?”
“Sure.” I take a step back, but she opens the door wider, letting heat and warm light spill out into the night.
“Come in.”
“I’ll wait on the porch.”
She cocks her head, her lips pursing into a frown. “Are you sure? It’s cold out.” I wonder how she’s adjusting to winter here in the mountains after all her years in San Diego.
I zip up my coat. “I’ll wait outside. Take your time.”
She offers me a blanket, but I decline. I don’t deserve comfort from her.
The neighborhood is quiet, as most are after dark this time of year. The houses are close on this street, and I’m glad Elena isn’t living out on one of the desolate roads on the outskirts.
Less than ten minutes later, the front door opens again, and she beckons me inside. Guilt and duty war inside me as I step over the threshold, and guilt wins the battle soundly when my body responds to Elena.
Since she’s been in Moon Ridge, I’ve only seen her in jackets and coats, and usually in professional clothing. She always looks good. Tonight, she’s wearing snug sweatpants and a long-sleeve, faded Twenty One Pilots t-shirt, and I can’t ignore her body’s lush curves no matter how hard I try.