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)
“Sure, he did,” Paige said. “We have your signature on yours.”
“No you don’t. I never signed that.” Amka pulled Daisy’s notepad toward herself, reached for a pen, and signed her name three times. Then she pushed away from the table. “This is my signature. Feel free to compare them. I’m done.” She stood.
Jeb slid the notebook toward himself. “Signatures can be changed, but we’ll send this to the lab to compare. Might have to ask the FBI for help.”
Amka’s legs trembled. She had to get out of there. “Either arrest me or I’m leaving.”
Paige also stood. “In that case, you’re under the arrest for the murder of Jarod Teller. Put your hands behind your back.” She moved in with the handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent. The—”
Amka wavered as the room morphed and Paige’s voice muffled into something unintelligible. Was she going to prison?
Two hours after being arrested, the metal chair bit into Amka’s thighs. Cold, unrelenting. Her palms rested on her jeans, but her fingers wouldn’t stop twitching. Across the table, the wheeled-in computer monitor crackled to life, cords looping down like snakes. A grainy video feed showed Judge Bobb Kerrick in his cluttered office, half-buried in paperwork. Fallon Price, the Anchorage ADA, leaned in from his square, the glow from his screen casting hard shadows across his face.
Daisy sat to Amka’s left, jaw set, one heel tapping steadily under the table. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d arrested Amka. Just squeezed her arm and told her to breathe.
The troopers had wanted to take her to Anchorage for processing, and Christian had lost his mind, with Brock not far behind him in the fury stage. Thank goodness Dutch had arrived and calmed everyone down. He’d processed Amka himself and then had set up an immediate virtual arraignment.
Amos, the weather guru who lived in the basement of the sheriff’s office, had managed to hook them all up so they could do this. Amka stared blankly at the squares in the computer monitor.
Prosecutor Fallon didn’t even wait for the judge to ask. “We’re requesting bail be denied, Your Honor, and we’d like to secure Ms. Amaruq in the Alaska Correctional Facility in Anchorage until trial. She is a clear flight risk with motive, opportunity, and no credible alibi.”
Amka’s breath snagged in her throat.
Daisy’s head whipped around. “Excuse me?”
Fallon didn’t blink. “Ms. Amaruq was seen punching Jarod Teller in the stomach the night he died. We have multiple witnesses at the tavern who can verify that. He was found dead in her driveway hours later from single gunshot wound to the head. There are scratches down his torso that suggest a physical struggle before he was killed.”
Amka’s vision tunneled for a second. Her stomach turned over. She couldn’t spend months in the Anchorage prison waiting for a trial. What was she going to do?
Daisy’s voice sharpened. “Are you saying she scratched him to death?”
“I’m saying she had motive.” Fallon held up a file. “A million-dollar life insurance policy. Ms. Amaruq is the sole beneficiary. That policy was filed two weeks ago by the victim, and she never mentioned it.”
“Because she didn’t know about it,” Daisy shot back. “She had zero knowledge about any life insurance policies, which means Jarod purchased them both, which doesn’t lead to any good conclusions about him. If he broke the law in this manner, who knows what else he was into, or who might’ve wanted him dead. You’re reaching by charging my client.”
Fallon’s expression didn’t change. “They were engaged.”
Daisy didn’t flinch. “That isn’t exactly probable cause, and you know it.”
Amka wanted to crawl out of her skin. The walls felt too close. The lights too sharp. She could hear the buzz of the camera overhead and the faint whir of the old HVAC system grinding away. The room smelled like stress and bleach. Her fingers went numb.
The judge cleared his throat, clearly over the back-and-forth. “Ms. Amaruq, do you have an affirmative defense?”
Amka opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
Daisy stepped in. “My client does have an alibi. She was with Christian Osprey that night. She had a car accident on the way home and plunged into the river. Christian rescued her and took her home to warm up. They were together all night.”
Fallon leaned forward. “It’s not quite that innocent, judge. Christian Osprey is a man she was having a secret relationship with, while still engaged to the victim. A man who’s also a person of interest. That’s not an alibi, Your Honor. That’s a co-conspirator.”
Amka’s chest went tight. Her throat burned. She’d known this would be bad, but not like this. “I would never kill anybody, and neither would Christian,” she whispered. Not now that he was out of the military, anyway.
Daisy put a hand on her arm, firm. “Amka, I’ve got this.”
Fallon lifted an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting claim, Ms. Amaruq. But without proof, we can only go on what we know. Which is this: Jarod Teller named you as his beneficiary, and now he’s dead in your driveway. Shot in the head. You were engaged to him, and now you’re sleeping with a man who may be fabricating an alibi on your behalf. None of this looks good.”