Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
That was way too much of a longshot. “I’m not counting on it.”
“Neither am I.” She looked up at the station, jaw set. “But it’s arson, and Amka might be the target.”
Christian’s hand stilled on Tika’s head. His spine straightened, barely. “Maybe.”
Ophelia stretched up on her calves as if breaking in the boots. “I offered to drive her home after she gave her statement, but she insisted on driving herself.”
“I followed her home and made sure she got inside safely.” His voice was quiet now, the kind that came after a long time not talking. “Teller’s rig was in the driveway.” Although the asshat should’ve gone to the station with her and then driven her home.
“At least Jarod’s keeping an eye on her,” Ophelia said. “Who do you think would want to hurt Amka?”
Christian shook his head. “Absolutely nobody in the world.”
Ophelia nodded. “That’s my feeling as well. But somebody’s obviously taken an interest. We have to assume they waited until she was inside that building before igniting the explosion.”
“I took another look at it,” Christian said. “It was rigged so when the door opened, the flame lit. They couldn’t have known it’d be Amka. It’s shared with Friday’s Grocery—they keep overflow in there.”
“I know,” Ophelia said. “But the note was left outside the tavern.”
Irritation and heat flared up inside him, crawling under his skin and sharpening every nerve. “I know. But the grocery store had already closed for the day.”
Ophelia sighed and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, only for the wind to slap it right back. “The town’s been open for two weeks, and we’ve had tons of tourists coming through. Plus, a lot of the mountain people have been down. We need to get some security cameras in place.”
Christian winced. “The topic was brought up at the town meeting a few years ago and it was a shit show, or so I’ve heard. I was still in the Navy, halfway across the world at the time, but news gets around. People live here because they like their privacy. Nobody wants cameras.”
Ophelia shifted her stance. “I know, but come on. At some point the town has to join the modern times, at least a little.”
He shook his head, his jaw aching. He had to stop clenching it. “I hate the thought of cameras all around, but I would like to know if somebody is watching Amka or the Fridays.”
Ophelia looked up at him from under lowered lashes. “What’s your interest in her, Christian? Is there something—”
“No.” He cut her off before she could expand the question. “We’re friends, and she’s in my town. Sometimes I drop by the bar and help out, and she always feeds me. That’s it. There’s nothing more.”
Ophelia arched a brow. “If you say so.”
“I do,” he said, firm and flat.
“Okay.” She backed off without pressing. No smirk, no challenge, just a clean shift of energy. “Well, it’s probably a good thing since apparently she’s getting married in June. What do you know about Jarod Teller?”
Christian cocked his head to the side. He’d smile if he remembered how. “Are you interviewing me?”
Ophelia’s lips ticked up. “Maybe. I don’t think this is an FBI case, but who knows? The local law can always request FBI assistance.”
Christian snorted. “Yeah, but we’ve got a problem with the whole local law situation, don’t we?”
She winced. “Yes, but no one seems to care about it, including my boss in DC.” Her gaze drifted to the sign stretched across the street declaring that Knife’s Edge had the only sheriff in Alaska. “I’m surprised no one’s challenged that.”
Christian lifted a shoulder. “There’s never been a need. I thought maybe Brock would at one point, just to get out of the job.”
The town had come up with its own sheriff system decades ago, back when they were too far out for anyone to respond in time. It was unofficial, but nobody cared. State troopers still handled the major cases in most of Alaska. A few larger towns had their own police departments, but even they didn’t have sheriffs. Knife’s Edge clung to the title like it was part of the landscape.
Ophelia chuckled. “If Brock gets tired of the job, he might try to change it.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “People like tradition here,” Christian said. “Whether we’ve got the only sheriff or not, no one’s looking to change that.”
“I understand,” she said. “I’m not getting involved in any jurisdictional issues, but arson and attempted murder are serious crimes.”
“I’m aware.” Christian’s jaw tightened again. At this point, he was going to deserve the migraine he was giving himself. “As for Jarod Teller, he moved to Anchorage when he was around twenty and worked one of the fishing outfits for a few years. Then he bought the local motel.”
Ophelia scanned the area. “The one that burned down.”