Page 25 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Get to your hotel room. Now.
Okay, so she was alive.
Ramon got there in record time, let himself in the side door with his key, and jogged all the way to the elevator. He usedhis phone to unlock the hotel room door, and it swung open by itself. She stood in the doorway.
He blinked at her and frowned. “How did you get in here?” She rolled her eyes and turned to wander back to the couch, flopping down. Ramon shut the door behind him. “And why do you smell singed?”
She brushed hair back from her face. “Why do you think?”
“How close were you to the blast?”
“Close enough I probably feel like you did after you landed in that dumpster.”
He winced. “Ouch.” Ramon slumped into the armchair across from the couch. “Anything else you need to tell me about what happened?”
“Not yet. Where have you been?” It wasn’t exactly accusatory, more like just disgruntled.
“Having a beer with Miguel.”
She blinked.
Ramon shrugged. “I know. He just sat down next to me and decided to talk. Probably to establish his alibi for what was happening at the motel.”
“Like it’s not easy enough to set a device on a timer and get the heck out of there before it goes off.”
“Were you the target?” He figured he already knew the answer, but what he wanted was her read on the situation.
“Who knows?” She lifted one shoulder. “We already heard about the contract on my life.”
“But then, no offense, why aren’t you dead?”
First the killer tells them what the job is, and then he sets an explosion that fails to kill her? Sounded like sloppy work to him. But Ramon hadn’t ever worked as a contract killer. Not in the same way Miguel was doing now.
“Maybe we should dangle me out as bait and find out the answer to that question.” And yet, there was nothing in herexpression that told him she actually wanted to do that. She looked completely exhausted.
“Keep coming up with ideas. Tomorrow, we can make a plan and figure this out.” He told her what those two officers had said about the Count of Shadows.
She lifted a hand, palm up. “Told you.”
“Okay, fine. But if everyone thinks he’s nothing but a schoolyard myth, how are we going to actually find him? I mean, have you checked all the creepy mansions in the hills? Anything built around the Victorian era or renovated to look like it was bought up by Dracula.”
“If only it was that easy.”
“What about old money families, or people who’ve lived here long enough that they were present in Spokane before the stories started?”
She said, “That makes more sense than Victorian mansions.”
He shrugged one shoulder, drawing out his phone so that he could text Maizie with the request. His phone rang, the text thread disappearing and the name of the forensics company showing up on the screen.
He waited a beat, then answered the phone. “Ramon Santiago.”
“Yes, this is Dr. Swanson from Pioneer. I got some interesting results that you might want to look into before I pass the information on to the police first thing tomorrow morning.”
Ramon pulled his boots off the coffee table and sat up, putting the call on speaker. “What kind of results?”
They already knew the woman’s name, and the police were likely done notifying her next of kin that her hand had been found. They may not even be able to confirm she was dead. At least, not without finding the rest of her. That had to have been a difficult conversation.
Dr. Swanson said, “We ran the material found under the victim’s fingernails, likely from scratching her captor. Some of it came back as DNA, and we were able to match it to a local firefighter. Drew Chamberlain has been with Spokane FD for twenty-two years.”
