Mateo’s eyes flashed with emotions I couldn’t decipher—anger, frustration, perhaps fear. But instead of answering, he turned and started walking away.
“You can’t just keep running!”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. For a moment, I thought he might leave without speaking, but then he said, so low I almost didn’t hear him, “You need to leave, Laura. Before it’s too late.”
With that, he vanished into the shadows.
The rest of the day was a haze of frustration. More interviews with townspeople resulted in the same vague responses. It felt like everyone was in on a secret they refused to share.
By evening, I was no closer to answers. Exhaustion weighed heavily as I returned to the motel. But as I lay in bed, my mind kept drifting back to Mateo. There was something about him, a pull both irresistible and terrifying.
I was convinced he was involved in whatever was happening in Rosebrook.
But what could it be?
Why was he so intent on keeping me from discovering the truth?
As I drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in my mind. I was running out of time. But I had to be cautious. Mateo had warned me. And deep down, I knew he was right about one thing.
I was playing with fire.