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)
The front door opened with a jingle that was too cheerful for the mood inside.
Wyland Friday walked in first, his boots dragging slightly. His gray hair was fuzzy around his head, and his whiskers rampant across his worn face. Sheldon followed, a white-paper-wrapped bouquet in his hand.
Amka stood without thinking. Her body didn’t want to move quickly, but she made it work. She approached them both. “Our kitchen is out, but I could get you both a drink if you’d like.”
Wyland awkwardly patted her shoulder with his beefy hand. “We just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.” The old guy’s eyes softened. “Maybe you should take a vacation?”
It wasn’t a horrible idea, but her problems would still be there when she returned.
Sheldon smiled, looking nice today in dark jeans and a blue sweater that brought out his eyes. He’d combed his hair back, too. “The explosion was bad enough, but it’s all around town about the influencer jerk who tried to kill you. I thought you could use something better to focus on.” He held out the flowers.
Amka blinked. “You brought me flowers.”
“Yeah.” Sheldon cleared his throat. “I figured nobody else would. Thought it might help.”
She stepped forward, took the bouquet from his hands, and gave a small nod. “Thank you.”
Sheldon smiled. “You bet. I’m hoping when you feel better we could take in a movie? There has to be a good one coming to town soon.”
She was saved from answering when Daisy came over and took the flowers. “I’ll get water.”
Amka turned back toward the table. “Thank you for checking on me. Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?”
Wyland hunched his shoulders in his black flannel shirt. “No, thanks. We’ve got inventory to do. If you need us, you call.” He nodded at the Osprey brothers and then shuffled to the door. It seemed like people aged during the Alaskan winters and showed it in the spring. Amka should probably take Wyland soup during the colder days once her kitchen was back up and running.
Sheldon hesitated. “We’ll talk soon. Call if you need anything.” He turned just as Helene Stanford walked inside, rolling a small suitcase.
“Oh, good. You’re all here.” She reached into a wide bag over her arm and brought out two envelopes, one for Amka and the other for Wyland. “Northside Insurance has preliminarily denied your insurance claim upon the belief that either Amka Amaruq or Jarod Teller planted the device that caused the storage building fire.” She shuffled the bag onto her shoulder. “I’m headed back to Anchorage. If Jarod Teller decides to show up for an interview, you have my contact information.”
Wyland looked down at the envelope. “Where is Jarod?”
Amka shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry about this, Wyland. I promise we didn’t destroy that building.”
Wyland opened the door and walked outside.
Sheldon’s face turned a motley red. “Find that idiot, would you? The insurance money is ours.” He followed his father outside.
“Come eat your soup,” Daisy ordered, carrying the flowers in a mason jar back to place in the center of the table. “Listen to your lawyer.” She paused, taking the envelope. “I know Nixi left the hospital, and I thought we’d hear from her.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket to show to Amka. “Her entire account has been deleted. Gone. I can’t even find one picture of her on here.”
Now that was impressive. “Maybe she just wanted to go off-grid.” Amka wasn’t going to blow her cover. Or whatever she was doing. Although, man, she was curious.
“I guess.” Daisy pushed her wild hair away from her face. “Before I forget, as your attorney, I received notice of a pretrial conference in a week. We’ll meet tomorrow and I’ll tell you the steps. Plus, I have copies of your business documents and last will and testament.” She nudged Amka into the chair. “Eat your soup.” She turned and headed back to the bar.
“Will?” Christian asked.
Amka shrugged. “Figured I needed one.” She picked up her spoon and sampled the soup. It tasted better this time.
“Nothing is going to happen to you. Period,” Christian said.
Damian’s phone buzzed, and he read the screen. “Finally. I have the ME’s report on Jarod’s autopsy.” He scrolled for a moment. “Jarod was shot. Single gunshot wound to the head, close range. Entry just above the right brow. No exit wound. The bullet lodged in the rear cranial cavity. The medical examiner said it’s still intact and was removed for ballistics. They haven’t matched it to a weapon yet.”
Amka’s pulse kicked. She didn’t say anything.
“He was still in the driver’s seat,” Damian added. “He had defensive injuries from scratches and contusions. There was a struggle. From what they can tell, it was quick, and he died right there. His body wasn’t moved.”