Page 44 of Ranger Devotion

As if called by her thoughts, Annie’s phone pinged with an incoming message at the same time as Tate’s. They shared a look, and then took out their devices. The sender was Seth, and the words on her screen sent ice through her veins.

I’m still here. Don’t think you’ve escaped, my friends. Running to a cabin won’t keep any of you safe. Nor will the boards you just nailed over the windows. Annie and Tate think they can protect you. They can’t. Before dawn breaks, some of you will die in payment for your sins. Who will it be? I already know. Soon, the rest of you will too.

TWENTY-ONE

Two hours later, Tate checked the side entrance doors for the hundredth time. Still locked. His reflection in the glass shifted as he studied the area around the activity center and the woods beyond it. Both were difficult to see, thanks to the sleet that’d started up again. Howling winds whipped tree branches back and forth, and icicles hung from the gutters. He prayed the weather would prevent the killer from acting on his threats, but it would be foolhardy to count on it.

He reached for the radio hanging from his belt and called Cabin 1. Preston answered, his tone short and irritated. “What?”

“You guys doing okay?”

“We’re fine. Just like we were half an hour ago. Stop radioing us. We’re sleeping.”

It didn’t sound like he was sleeping. If anything, he sounded tipsy. Tate hoped that wasn’t the case, but in the past, when Preston and Dylan got together, they partied. The three women who went with them to Cabin 1, former cheerleaders and friends of Kayla’s, were also fond of having a good time. Add in the stress of their situation and lots of time with nothing to do…Tate could easily picture them using alcohol to blow off steam.

He checked in with Dwayne, who also confirmed things were quiet on his end, and then began his patrol again. Storage closet—empty. Game room—empty. He eased open the door to the media room and peeked inside. Caleb was curled up on one of the couches, sleeping. Tate shut the door and continued on. He took the back stairs to the second floor. Heather, like Caleb, had opted to sleep away from the group. Her door was cracked open, and a shape in the bed suggested she was asleep. Tate checked the rest of the rooms, including the closets, but as expected, no one was there.

Every window locked. Every exit secure.

And yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

As he entered the main lobby, the warmth of the fireplace hit his cheeks. Air mattresses were scattered on the floor. Someone snored softly. Evan had pulled an armchair closer to the window and kept watch from it. He gave Tate a salute as he passed by.

Tate nodded in return. Despite his reservations, a part of him was relieved by Evan’s vigilance. Especially since he was doing so in plain view.

He kept his footsteps light as he crossed to the front desk. Annie was there, studying the legal pad he’d filled with names, arrows, and question marks. Stacked next to it was a collection of personnel folders she’d given him to look through.

She held a coffee mug with both hands, as if using it to warm her fingers. Her clothes were relaxed—yoga pants and an oversized sweater—but worry rode the curve of her brow. Tate fought the urge to touch her, to do what he could to ease the stress in her shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She kept her voice pitched low to prevent waking the others. “Find anything in the personnel files?”

“Nothing of concern. The agency you use runs thorough background checks.” He reached for the top folder and flipped it open. “Dwayne’s background also checks out, according to your records, but there are gaps in his work history, especially before he came to work for Haven Ranch. I tried to run him through the system, but the internet is too spotty thanks to the storm.”

“He’s been working here for years. Long before I bought the place. The previous owners had nothing but wonderful things to say about him. When his background check came back clear, I didn’t think twice about keeping him on, even with the gaps in his work history.” She blew out a breath. “I find it difficult to believe he’s involved in these attacks, but I know we need to be thorough.”

The satellite phone on the desk vibrated, the screen lighting up with Grady’s number. Finally! Tate scooped up the device and answered it. “Whatcha got?”

Annie moved closer, and Tate shifted the phone so she could hear as well.

“I’m emailing you information on Seth Morrison’s brother, Marcus,” Grady said. “Decorated veteran, former Green Beret. Honorably discharged six years ago after being wounded overseas. No criminal history besides the occasional parking ticket. Unmarried, no kids. He drives a 2024 Chevy Silverado, and his current address is in Alamosa, Colorado. I’ve contacted the police department there, asked them to verify Marcus’s whereabouts, but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

Tate pulled out his cell phone. Two bars. Might be enough to check his email. He navigated to the app. “What about Seth’s dad?”

“I handled that.” Luke’s voice grew louder, as if he’d moved closer to the phone. “Jeb Morrison was released from the Colorado Department of Corrections fifteen years ago, and his whereabouts are unknown. He was convicted of manslaughter. Rebecca Young, an eighty-year-old grandmother, died when he ran a red light at close to a hundred miles per hour and hit her car broadside. Jeb was highly intoxicated, and seeing that it was his second DWI, the prosecutor pushed for second-degree murder. Jeb plead to manslaughter and was paroled after serving fifteen years. He completed two years of supervision, and then poof. Vanished.” Frustration clipped his words. “I can’t find a record of him anywhere.”

Suspicious. Maybe Tate had been too quick to dismiss the idea of Seth’s dad being involved. “How old is Jeb?”

“He’s seventy. I doubt he’s your killer, unless he’s in excellent shape, but he could be the mastermind. Jeb and Marcus working together, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Tate found the email his fellow rangers sent and clicked on it. The page started to load, but slowly. “But how would they get everyone’s contact information? How are they keeping tabs on our whereabouts?” Those were the questions he couldn’t get past. “What about other relatives?”

“Seth didn’t have any. No cousins, no other siblings.” Grady coughed and then cleared his throat. “Sorry. Think I caught a cold the kids have been passing around. Anyway, we also started running background checks on the reunion guests. Caleb Riggins has been arrested a few times for assault. Looks like some bar fights. They were either dismissed or pleaded down to misdemeanors. Evan and Brooke Hastings are clean.” Paper rustled over the line. “Preston Colson is also clean. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. I’ll keep running through the list and update you ASAP.”

“Thanks, guys. Good work.” Tate hung up. He stared at his phone. Still loading.

“What do you think?” Annie asked. She picked up her mug from the desk and took a sip. “Marcus has to be involved, right? Everything we learn about him points in that direction.”

“It makes the most sense.” Tate eyed her cup. “Is that coffee?”