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)
“No, no. I get it,” May said. “You’re just trying to make a plan.” Although that one wouldn’t work. “Let me be honest with you. Flossy’s in great shape. She’s sharp. Still hunts. Still gardens. She could last another twenty years.”
“I hope she does,” Amka said quietly. “But that doesn’t help me.”
“You have no idea where the video is?” May asked.
Amka shook her head. “No, and it gets worse. Jarod said if anything happens to him, the video automatically gets sent to the district attorney’s office.”
May froze. “Automatically?”
“He has someone ready to email it for him if he dies or disappears or whatever.” Amka lifted a hand, expression tight. “Not that I’m planning on killing him or anything.”
“Well,” May muttered, chewing the inside of her lip. “The thought would’ve crossed my mind.”
Amka cracked a dry smile. “You and me both.”
“Do you know who this friend is?”
“No.” Amka’s posture sagged. Her voice had lost its edge, and her focus slipped, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know most of his friends. Even the ones in Anchorage. I’ve gone through his contacts more than once, but none of them fit. It’s probably someone I wouldn’t expect.”
That was a pisser, if he was telling the truth. “What about the video itself? Is it on his phone?”
“Yeah,” Amka said. “Who knows where else. He could’ve backed it up. Copies could be in the cloud or on a flash drive buried in a shoebox. I can’t trust that it’s only in one place.”
That so completely sucked. “Can you get into his computer?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But even if I did, I have no idea what I’d be looking for or where to start. He’s not dumb, May. He’s careful.”
May sat back slowly, the weight of it sinking in. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”
“I need someone to know the truth.” Amka’s voice quieted. “In case something happens.” There was a flicker in her expression that made May stop. Not just stress. Not exhaustion. Real fear.
“Are you afraid of him?” May asked.
Amka didn’t look away. “He’s a blackmailer and an asshole. I’d be stupid not to be afraid of him, but I can take care of myself.”
May swallowed hard. She knew what it felt like to be cornered, to believe there wasn’t a way out. “You shouldn’t have to worry about him, and you’re not going to do it alone.” She reached over and took Amka’s hand, trying to ground them both.
“I appreciate it,” Amka said, finishing her drink. “I just…don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll figure it out.” May meant every word. She didn’t have a plan yet, but she wasn’t about to let her friend walk into the fire alone. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”
Amka looked around, her shoulders hunched. “I do. If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. I’ll make up the sofa for you.” May stood, trying to remember where she’d put the spare sheets. “You’re not going back there tonight, and you’re not marrying that prick, no matter what he thinks he’s got.”
May had survived something once that nearly ended her. She’d built a life after it. She knew what it looked like when someone was sliding toward that edge. She wasn’t going to let Amka go over.
At least not alone.
Chapter 7
After a night with very little sleep, Christian moved quietly through the brush, the thaw-softened ground muting his steps as he followed a faint ridgeline above the creek. Snow still clung in the shaded hollows, but most of the trail was open now. He crouched near a broken spruce and ran gloved fingers along the gouges in the bark. Not fresh. But recent enough. The spring had come late and messy, and that meant bears would be hungry, out early, and unpredictable.
He considered and quickly discarded the idea of leading a hunting party or two in the autumn, when the season opened. He didn’t want to have the wilds to himself, but sometimes he wanted the wilds left alone. Completely.
The air smelled of thawing spruce, wet moss, and distant musk. The ground was soft and torn by fresh tracks. Water trickled nearby, a slow melt through stone. Wind moved through the trees, not loud but just enough to remind him how far he was from anything that talked. The light was flat, gray, pushing through low clouds.
The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he partially turned, his shotgun cradled in the crook of his arm. He caught wind of the man before he strode between two fir trees.
Dutch Reddick squinted in the early light. “Mornin’, Christian.”
“Dutch.”
Dutch’s bushy eyebrows rose. “When did you catch my scent?”
“Not soon enough.” Not true. Christian would’ve had plenty of time to either shoot or take cover should Dutch have been an enemy. “You here on a job?”
“Always.” Dutch loped closer, his Alaska Wildlife Trooper badge scuffed on his olive green parka, matching in age and wear to his shoulder patch. “Been meaning to look you up for a while, since I heard you returned home.”