The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Dakota

“Hey Ben, what’s up?’

“Happy Monday to you too, Dakota.” Ben glanced down at the travel mug Dakota held in his hand and grinned. “Nice mug there.”

“It’s Tad’s.”

Which, technically, wasn’t the truth. Tad had probably found the thing somewhere online and bought it specifically for Dakota. He’d always done stuff like that. When they were younger, Tad would pretend that he’d found five bucks and say, “So here you go, Dakota.” Or claim that Penny had accidentally ordered two senior sweatshirts. Sure, Tad. In two different sizes? Dakota’d never called him on it though. Beggars and choosers and all that. And Dakota was definitely a beggar.

“Suits you though,” Ben said with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “You’ve got to be the most jaded guy I’ve ever met.” He raised a hand before Dakota could speak. “I’d be the same, I figure.”

Dakota wasn’t exactly sure just how much of his past the rest of the deputies knew about, but since Ben was Sheriff Morgan’s partner and JD knew it all, Ben probably did too. It wasn’t a secret; Dakota just didn’t like talking about it.

“Yeah, well.” Dakota shrugged, not sure what else he wanted to say and trying not to project just how off-balance he felt this morning. Talking about his mother abandoning him and then years later discovering how she’d been murdered not long after leaving? Not his favorite topic. But maybe it was better than obsessing about Tad and last night. It was bad enough that he’d agreed to help Tad get a damn tree.

“So. Tad, huh?” Ben asked casually. “He’s a good guy.”

Dakota groaned inwardly because Tad was a good guy. Too good. All he had to do right now was say something like, “Yeah, me and Tad,” and then confess to Ben how he—Dakota—was inherently unworthy, how he couldn’t make any promises. What if he turned out to be like Ana? What if he couldn’t stick with a relationship and ended up hurting Tad? Maybe Ben had some ideas.

“What’s up this morning?” he said instead. Maybe he should have said no to the tree hunt. He was probably going to have to work late anyway. And, crap, he hadn’t checked his email. Whatever Niall had sent was just sitting there, waiting for him.

Recognizing the question for the avoidance it was, Ben swung back around to his document-littered desk. “Some of the stolen toys were found. We’re going to collect them.”

“What?” Why hadn’t Ben led with that? Who cared about a damn travel mug? “That’s good news, right?” Checking his personal email could wait.

“Mm.” Ben shook his head and stared at his monitor, which chose that moment to sleep. “It’s more of a good news, bad news situation.”

Moving his mouse back and forth, Ben woke up the computer. A grainy picture on the screen morphed into a heap of something in a snowy field. Dakota peered closer. What the fuck was he looking at?

“What the hell?” Dakota exclaimed, finally figuring out what he was seeing. “The bears have been torn apart? What kind of sicko fuck would do that? Why would someone do that?”

The stuffed bears he could make out in the photo had been shredded, their synthetic innards spilled out across the frozen lumps of grass and dirt. A teddy bear serial killer at work.

“Dunno,” said Ben, logging off his desktop and grabbing a set of keys out of the drawer. “Let’s go find out.”

Ben drove, which was good because Dakota found himself growing angrier and angrier the closer they got to the scene of the crime—and it was better than thinking about Tad. He’d been five years old the first time his mom took him to the community center of wherever they’d lived at the time to pick out a toy for himself. He’d picked a stuffed dog or something like that. It had been lost in one of their many moves, Dakota recalled, but he’d loved it while he’d had it. And he hadn’t cared that the gift came from a stranger.

“People are fucked up,” he said for the third or maybe fourth time.

As had often been the case, Ana had been unemployed at the time and there’d been no money for gifts. At least, that’s what she’d told him. Dakota was starting to doubt everything about Ana. But Ana wasn’t a factor today. What was important was that some asshole was trying to ruin the holidays for a bunch of innocent kids.

With a few exceptions, there were two kinds of people in the world: assholes and assholes. Tad’s travel cup was, in fact, perfect, he realized. He and Tad didn’t exchange gifts often, but Dakota seriously needed to come up with a gift for him.

“They are,” Ben said agreeably. “Can’t trust any of us with nice things.”

Ben stopped the cruiser alongside an empty pasture fifteen minutes outside of town. In the distance was a large, single-story rambler surrounded by trees planted to protect it from the wind, leaving just the driveway exposed.

“Is this the Pickering land?” Dakota asked, looking around.

The house had an abandoned feel even from over a hundred yards away.

“I think that’s what Gloria told me. Why?”

“I heard somebody bought it and wants to build a housing development.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“The annual last bonfire of the year at the Gillespies’ last week. Burl and Kit were talking about it, I think, but Waylon seemed to have heard something too.”

Ben snorted. “I bet that isn’t going to go over well. There haven’t been any reports in the news yet, and you’d think this would be all over town. Maybe it’s still in the works.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

Dakota looked around again. In one direction, the Tetons rose majestically from the valley floor. In the other, the meadowland stretched out to the east, slowly lowering to where it met juniper shrub-covered hills dotted here and there with ponderosa and whitebark pines and eventually cascaded down to Collier’s Creek.

Out here, it was impossible for Dakota to feel hemmed in. As much as he’d thought Piedras Island and the damn Pacific Ocean were beautiful, the mountains and plains of Wyoming felt like home. He could breathe here.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Each of them donned gloves and grabbed the plastic trash bags from the stash in the cruiser’s trunk, then Dakota and Ben climbed over a ditch full of frozen mud to survey the scene of the crime. It looked worse in real life.

“Is this all of them?” Dakota asked. “Do we know how many were taken?”

Ben shrugged, looking as depressed as Dakota currently felt.

“Could be. I’d guess it’s close anyway.”

Without further conversation, the two of them set about taking more pictures, retrieving the evidence, and stuffing the bear remains into the plastic bags. Dakota was pissed off. If the thief, or thieves, had stolen the toys because they needed them, that would be one thing. But obviously, they had just wanted to be assholes. One of the two kinds of people in the world.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Ben said, stuffing the last headless bear into a bag. “Were they looking for something?”

Dakota hadn’t thought of that. He’d been too mad about how some unfortunate kids would feel when there was nothing to open on Christmas Day.

“Like inside the toys?” He considered that idea. “Drugs?”

Ben shrugged. “I mean, I’ve seen weirder.”

Dakota frowned. “Penny Gillespie donated most of these. I just don’t see her getting involved in the drug trade.” He tossed his bag into the open trunk, disgusted by the whole thing.

“Yeah, no,” Ben agreed with a laugh. “And besides, you’d think Penny would be smart enough to get the contraband out before she donated them.”

Straightening, his gloved hands on his hips, Dakota took in the scene of the crime and then stared out again, taking in the larger location. They were five miles outside of Collier’s Creek and close to the road. About halfway between town and the Gillespie ranch, not that he thought Penny had anything to do with this. Which made the Tad issue rear its head, again, after he’d managed to put him out of his mind for a good half an hour.

A half an hour? Dakota scoffed at himself. Who did he think he was fooling? It had been about three minutes. He forced himself to focus on the scene in front of him.

“Why would they drive out to this spot and then just dump the loot? If whoever did this had half a brain cell, they had to know that the toys would be found sooner rather than later. There hasn’t been any snow in the last few days to cover the evidence,” Ben observed. “Most likely, this was just been a convenient spot for the thief, which meant they might live or work out this way. Food for thought.”

“Looks like all we can guess is that whoever did this has a thing against teddy bears,” Dakota said dryly. “If that’s case, we need to warn everybody in town who sells stuffed animals to be on the lookout. Otherwise, you’re right. It was these specific toys, and the thief was looking for something.”

Dakota was starting to suspect it was the latter.

The dismembered bears managed to distract Dakota from the looming problem that was Tad for most of the morning. But by midafternoon, once he and Ben had logged the bits and pieces and were stashing them in the evidence locker, thoughts of Tad came roaring back.

He scowled; he didn’t need to be having these thoughts while he was at work.

“What are you stewing about?” Ben finally asked.

“Sorry?” Had he been that obvious?

“You’re distracted. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that it’s something about Tad Gillespie. I know you’re friends with the whole family, but Tad seems like he might mean something more than friends. You always smile after he calls.”

He did? Fuck.

“Not with Boone,” Dakota quickly clarified.

Ben chuckled. “True. Boone Gillespie is a legend of his own making. He’s not an inherently bad person though, at least I don’t think so. He just seems to consistently make poor decisions.”

“The bane of my existence,” Dakota said glumly.

“I can see that,” Ben agreed. “So it is Tad, then? You have to at least have some idea of what JD and I went through last year. Would’ve been a bit better if we’d just talked things out.”

“Tad and I talking isn’t the issue,” Dakota admitted, while also wondering what he was doing talking to Ben about it all. He barely knew the guy—and maybe that was Dakota’s fault. He was reminded of something Tad had said to him a few months ago, about trying not to automatically shut people out. There are good people in Collier’s Creek, Kota, he’d said. Let them meet the real Dakota Green.

“So, what is it? Tad’s funny, smart, loyal—to a fault, I might add—and clearly is in love with you.”

“In love? With me? No.” Dakota scoffed, trying to keep his voice from rising. “He doesn’t love me, he feels sorry for me.”

Ben squinted at him in a way that had Dakota wishing he hadn’t used those words. “The dude does not feel sorry for you.”

Regardless of the warning bells gonging in his head, Dakota pushed on, determined to make himself clear. This was good that he was talking with Ben. He needed to get his thoughts in order for the conversation he and Tad would be having later that evening. But only after they picked out a tree for Tad’s apartment. He didn’t want to ruin that.

“Look, Tad and I met when I was fourteen, and my mom almost immediately left me behind for some boyfriend in another state right after that. Maybe she planned on coming back, I don’t know, but she didn’t. The Gillespies let me stay, didn’t turn me in to Child Protective Services. Tad feels sorry for me.”

He knew that wasn’t true, but Dakota still couldn’t let himself believe that Tad had real feelings for him. Why Dakota, when he could have almost anyone else? Well, not Jacob Gost. Dakota drew the line at Jacob. He was far too good-looking. Nice too, would be good to Tad. The surge of jealousy surprised him, and he shoved it aside. If Tad wanted Jacob, Dakota would just have to deal with it.

Didn’t have to like it, though.

Now it was Ben who scoffed. “The only person feeling sorry for yourself is you, at least in my humble opinion. What happened when you were fourteen molded you, sure. But that’s not today or who you’ve become. I think you’re letting a ghost of sorts influence you. I know from JD that you worked hard to put yourself through school and become a deputy. The JD I know wouldn’t hire somebody who is undeserving and feels sorry for themselves. You are worthy of Tad, and I don’t think he feels sorry for you either. Just saying.”

Dakota stared at Ben. Ben stared back, unflinching.

Was he letting the ghost of his past influence him? How could he not? Maybe this was a question for Niall. Or, better yet, Mat.

“We all have pasts,” Ben continued. “If we let the bad parts keep us from the good stuff, where would we be? Damn miserable, that’s where.”

“Damn Miserable. Is that a small town somewhere in Washington State, like Dismal Niche? Do you write motivational quotes in your spare time?”

“Duh, of course I do. Just remember, regardless of whether the glass is half empty or half full, there’s still water in the glass.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Dakota groaned. “Please stop now.”

Ben grinned. “Dude, I’m just getting started. I feel like I’ve almost missed a calling, but you’re gonna help me get there.” He rubbed his hands together as if plotting his next irritatingly uplifting quip.

Leaving the evidence room, the two of them walked toward the lobby.

As they neared the Sheriff’s Office door, Ben asked, “So, are you going to talk to Tad? Tell him how you feel?”

“What do you mean, how I feel?” Dakota’s voice squeaked.

Stopping mid-step, Ben turned to eye him again. “Really? Do I have to tell you that part too?”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Dakota raised his hands in surrender. “No, please don’t. I confess.”

“Confess to what?” Sheriff Morgan asked from his office.

“Oh, nothing,” Ben said in a singsong voice.

It was dark and snowing again when Dakota made his way down the apartment building hallway and stopped in front of Tad’s door. It opened before he could lift his hand and knock.

“Don’t you have a key? I’m sure I gave you one ages ago, right after I moved in,” Tad said as he moved away to stand in the middle of his living room.

The door shut behind him and Dakota brushed past Tad, inhaling a breath as he did so. The scent of him always calmed Dakota. Even living in town, Tad seemed to smell like fresh hay and the open air. Maybe it was the dryer sheets he used, but Dakota suspected not.

“I must have left it at my place,” he said. “Do you want me to go get it now?”

“No, I do not want you to go get it now. Jeez.”

Tad was nervous, Dakota could sense it. An almost visible aura of anxiety radiated from him.

Not sure how to start the conversation, Dakota took his jacket off and hung it up, then sat down to take his shoes off. The department-approved boots were heavy, and after a long day on his feet, Dakota felt their weight.

“Um,” Tad started, “coffee? Tea? Beer? Something stronger? I have some whiskey Boone gave me for my birthday. You know Boone, one-stop shopping at the liquor store. I wonder if that’s what Amanda will get for a wedding present? A big bottle of Wild Turkey.”

“Tad.”

“Maybe not Wild Turkey. He isn’t that dumb. He’ll go for something a little more romantic, maybe something from Scotland with a name he can’t possibly pronounce.”

“Tad.”

“Um.” Tad finally looked at him. “What?”

“Sit down next to me, please. It’s been a long day and I don’t want to crane my neck while we talk.”

“I hate that word.”

But he sat down. Not as close as Dakota wanted him to, but that probably would soon be taken care of. If he didn’t fuck it up.

“Which, crane or neck?”

“ Talk , doofus.”

Dakota grinned. “I would talk if someone else in the room would give me half a second.”

Tad narrowed his eyes at Dakota. Apparently this was not the time for teasing.

Dakota cleared his throat, suddenly not sure where to start. After talking to Ben, he hadn’t made a plan. He’d just come home, back to Tad’s apartment, knowing that he needed to tell Tad how he really felt. That he loved him. And he was scared to death.

“Okay, so the thing is?—”

“Nope.” Tad stood back up, his back to Dakota again.

“Tad, sit the fuck back down. I’m not about to tell you that last night was an accident or some fluke.”

Slowly, Tad turned back around to face him.

“You’re not?”

“No. Now will you fucking sit down?”

Tad perched himself on the edge of the couch cushions, ready to flee.

“Last night was not an accident.” Fuck, this was difficult. Talking about feelings was worse than going to the dentist. How did people in relationships do it? Why weren’t sticky notes and texts enough?

Watching the hopeful expression creep across Tad’s face, Dakota forced himself to continue.

“My feelings toward you are more than friendly and have been probably for a while. I wouldn’t fu—mess around with someone I didn’t truly care for.”

“You care for me.”

“Yes.”

“As more than a friend.”

“Yes. I said that, didn’t I?”

Suddenly, his lap was full of Tad. Dakota hadn’t seen him move, but now Tad was straddling his thighs and Dakota’s arms wrapped around his body of their own volition.

Tad whispered, “Is this for real, or am I dreaming?”

Dakota snaked a hand under Tad’s shirt. “Definitely for real,” he replied.