ALTHOUGH MY CABIN was nestled in the woods north of Leadville, a spot that was pretty damned remote and far removed from the prying eyes of the media, the FBI, in all their wisdom had decided that staying put was simply not an option. Instead they wanted me moved to an “undisclosed location” where I could be kept under the watchful eyes of Johnson and Holbrook.
Their idea of a safe house left a lot to be desired.
A collection of four buildings designed to look like quaint little alpine chalets, the Knotty Pine Motel sat just off of Highway 9 a few miles outside of Breckenridge, the dense forest looming over the cluster of buildings as if the surrounding wilderness was slowly reclaiming the land. The motel had probably seen its last significant facelift sometime in the eighties, and was gradually succumbing to the stresses of time and neglect. A flickering neon sign hanging crookedly over the door of the office proudly proclaimed “Free Cable Available!”
“Classy,” I muttered as I slid out of the back of the SUV, my boots crunching in the snow. Hunching my shoulders up around my ears, I buried my nose in the folds of my scarf as the icy wind blew across the pot-hole riddled parking lot, buffeting me where I stood. Inside the SUV Loki yowled as the cold air blew into the car, carrying the first few flakes of snow inside.
I thrust my chilled hands into the pockets of my coat and glanced up at the dark sky overhead. The bright morning sun had quickly given way to steely grey clouds that promised even more bad weather as evening fell. Squinting against the wind and swirling snow, I drew in a deep breath, scenting the air through my fluffy scarf.
The mouthwatering scent of grilled onions and charred beef drifted to me on the wind from a diner across the shared parking lot, its large windows glowing with warmth in the dreary mid-afternoon light. A few grizzled looking truck drivers sat at the counter drinking coffee and eating.
“We’re in rooms three and four,” Holbrook said, gesturing to one of the chalets with a tilt of his chin as he offered me a brass key hanging from a plastic key chain shaped like a pine tree.
“Great,” I said, forcing a weak smile though it was lost behind my scarf.
Collecting Loki’s carrier from the backseat of the SUV as Holbrook grabbed my bags again, I trudged along to our rooms. Stepping aside, he looked out over the parking lot as I fit the key into the lock, his stance relaxed while the sharpness of his gaze let me know that he was definitely on the clock. The door stuck for a moment before swinging open with an ominous creak straight out of a horror movie, revealing a small room cast in shadow. Flipping the light switch beside the door I peered inside, my eyes roving over fake wood paneling and dingy green carpet.
I felt the loss of my home even more acutely as I stepped into the room, setting Loki’s carrier on the bed closest to the door, the bedspread an eye-searing pattern of red, pink, and yellow abstract flowers.
“I’ll let you out in a minute, buddy,” I said in response to his plaintive meow and the frantic rocking of the crate.
“Where do you want your bags?” Holbrook asked from the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room.
“On the bed is fine I guess,” I replied, gesturing to the second bed as I scoped out the rest of the room.
A mismatched pair of nightstands sat on either side of the bed I had claimed as mine, their lamps casting dim circles of light that didn’t even begin to chase away the gloom. A squat dresser with an ancient TV sat across from the beds, the screen coated in a thick layer of dust.
I guess the maid is on vacation.
A small niche was cut into the wall opposite the door, housing a single sink set into a peeling laminate countertop, a door in the wall on the left open just enough to show the edge of a toilet bowl.
“Cozy,” I said, relieved that my voice didn’t reveal the bitterness that hung in the back of my throat.
“It won’t be for long.”
Nodding, I turned my back on him, unwinding my scarf and stuffing it into my duffel bag before pulling out my battered sketchbook.
“I’ve got some work to do. Deadlines to meet and all that,” I said, wishing this man I barely knew would leave me alone to sort through the thoughts and emotions that had been swirling in my mind all day. The success of the hunt that morning seemed like a petty triumph in light of everything else that had happened. In the blink of an eye, the scab over my long-ignored emotions had been torn off, and now I was slowly bleeding out.
“No problem. I’m just next door if you need me.”
Holbrook lingered for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, the cold wind blowing into the room sending snowflakes skittering across the carpet. Just as I began to turn, the door closed with a soft click, and I was left alone in the cold room with a rather disgruntled cat.
***