by Dani Pettrey
“Come here.” Reef pulled her into his embrace. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Was he making a play, or did he just realize she was aching for comfort, for security? To her surprise, she believed the latter.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling away after a moment. “I appreciate you being here, but we should both get some sleep.”
“Right.” Reef slid his hands in his jean pockets. “Important day tomorrow.”
She cringed. He had no idea.
He arrived in Yancey shortly before dawn. No doubt a good twelve hours behind Reef and Kirra. But they’d had quick access to a plane. He’d had to call and get one sent in. It was surprising he was only twelve hours behind, given the circumstances.
Yancey was a small town, which made his job easier. He’d quickly locate the pair and discern if they really were letting the incident go. Glancing through the Internet White Pages, he searched for Kirra Jacobs’ vet business and sled dog shelter—Nanook Haven.
He put out his cigarette, crunching it into the snow with the tip of his boot as the rental car agency opened for the day. Thankfully he’d only had to wait an hour.
Now for a drive out to Nanook Haven.
UNIVERSITY OF ALASKA, FAIRBANKS
MARCH 12, 8:10 A.M.
Kirra hadn’t seemed quite right to Reef since Darcy first suggested they interview Meg’s roommate in person. Did the two not get along? Was there something about her time at University of Alaska, Fairbanks, that left a sour taste in her mouth?
She moved quickly across campus, not looking up, not making eye contact with anyone. Her frame was stiff, her jaw tight. What had happened here?
He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he knew she would again insist she was fine. She’d skirted the subject of her discomfort during their flight, turning the conversation instead to his brief relationship with her cousin Meg.
His time with Meg had resulted in a handful of dates—barely enough to be labeled a relationship, but Kirra had used that term multiple times. The fact that he’d dated Meg bothered her. He could read it in the tightness of her jaw and brow. Perhaps she wasn’t thrilled that her cousin had dallied with the wild McKenna brother. Or, more likely, she knew he wasn’t good enough for Meg—which definitely meant he wasn’t good enough for her.
That was true, but he’d been praying, hoping, maybe she’d begin to see him differently, and there were moments when he thought she did—the passionate, yet tender, kiss being one of them; their frank conversation on the plane another.
She still hadn’t mentioned the kiss, and he wondered if she even remembered it. She’d been half asleep. Either way, the memory of it was burned fast and foremost in his mind.
He’d never experienced the sensations he had in that kiss. It left him aching for more. For more of her—not physically but emotionally. He wanted to get to know her better, to figure out what made her tick, to be able to ease the furrowed lines from her brow, to be of comfort and support to her.
She made him want to be a better man. That’s why he was here. He would help her find Meg. He’d prove he could see something through, that he could be a reliable friend, that he cared about them both—Meg as a friend, and Kirra as infinitely more, even if she never reciprocated the feelings. He’d screwed up so much in life, had not been there for those he loved, had not followed through. He wasn’t screwing up this time, wasn’t walking away.
They entered the dorm building, Kirra moving quickly up the concrete stairs to the third floor.
“Have you met her before? Meg’s roommate?”
“Yeah. When they came to visit Yancey over Thanksgiving break.”
“That should help.” It wouldn’t be two total strangers showing up at her door.
“Meg is in room 304.” Kirra followed the door numbers. “Here.”
“Let’s hope Ashley’s in.” Otherwise they’d have to try and track her down on campus.
Kirra knocked on the door.
A moment later, to Reef’s great relief, it opened.
A petite woman with long, obviously dyed hair greeted them. “Yeah?” She looked up and smiled as her gaze locked on Kirra. “Kirra? What are you doing here?”
“We’re looking for Meg.”
“She’s not here.”
“We know.”
Ashley frowned. “What’s going on?”
“You may want to take a seat,” Reef suggested as she let them in.
The room was typical of a college dorm. Two twin beds were lofted, one with a desk and workstation underneath, the other with a dresser and mounds of clothes—Meg’s. So opposite Kirra’s organized nature.
“Okay, you’re kind of freaking me out,” Ashley said, moving across the blue carpet to her chair. “What’s going on, Kirra?”
Kirra rubbed her arms. “I don’t know how best to say this, so I’ll just come out with it.” She paused until Ashley sat, then exhaled. “Meg’s missing.”
Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean missing?”
“It’s what we’ve been told,” Kirra said, leaning against the wooden bed frame.
“Told?” Ashley’s brow creased. “By who?”
“Her dad.”
“Oh.” Ashley exhaled, the tightness in her face easing.
Kirra’s brows arched. “What?”
Ashley swallowed, slipping a strand of her crimson-dyed hair behind her ear. “I’m sure this is all just a bit of confusion.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know Meg always goes to see her dad off in the Iditarod . . .”
“Right,” Kirra said.
“Well, when Meg was getting ready to leave and I said, ‘Say hey to your dad for me,’ she gave me this strange look.”
Kirra’s delicately arched brows furrowed. “Strange, how?”
“Like that wasn’t where she was really going.”
“You think she lied to you about going to the Iditarod?”
“I don’t know.” Ashley shifted, pulling her knees to her chest, the swivel chair shifting with her. “Meg’s been kind of different lately.”
“Different?” Kirra asked. “How?”
“She’s been hanging around with this new crowd. Kind of getting edgy.”
Getting edgy? What was Meg into?
“What kind of crowd?” Kirra asked.
“And edgy how?” Reef added. In his experience, Meg already straddled the line between acceptable and wild behavior. Had she moved completely over?
Ashley rested her chin on her knees. “This environmental group on campus. ROW. Rescue Our World. They’re all jazzed up about saving the world—well, the environment. They’re always edgy. I think it’s a persona they purposely work to give off, but if you ask me, I’d say they’re just twitchy because they ingest too much caffeine. They are always going on and on about one cause after another. Always complaining about this thing or that. I mean, I’m sorry, but a little hairspray isn’t going to bring the world to the brink of destruction. A girl’s got to have good hair. Am I right?”
Kirra smiled and nodded, but Reef could tell she was itching to get down to business.
“This group,” Kirra said. “Do you know any of the members?”
“Meg tried bringing a few of them to our parties, but they were always too busy sitting up on their high horses, preaching to everyone else, to ever enjoy themselves. Kind of a downer, you know? After a while she stopped bringing them.”
“You think she stopped hanging out with them?” Kirra asked.
“Nope.” Ashley stood, retrieved her messenger bag off the fraying blue carpet, and stepped to her desk. “I think she just decided to keep her friend groups separate.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think she liked getting flack from us about hanging out too much with those eco-nuts, and I’m just as certain they gave her equal flack for hanging out with us.”
“Why?” Kirra frowned.
“Because we weren’t into ‘the cause.’” She shoved a couple books
in her bag. “It made things awkward with Meg. It was like this point of tension neither of us talked about, but it was always there.”
“Could we get some names from you?” Reef asked.
“Of the eco-nuts?” Ashley shrugged. “Sure.” She grabbed a notebook and fluffy pen and started scribbling. “I only know a couple of names, but you could always talk to Professor Baxter.”
“Professor Baxter?”
“He’s head of the Environmental Science department, and the eco-crowd reveres him like a god. I’m sure he could give you some names, probably even tell you about Meg’s interest in the cause.”
“Was she a student of his?”
“She’s taking three of his classes this semester.”
“Three? Wow. She must really like him.”
“Likes what he has to say.” She shoved the last of her books into her bag and swung the flap over, hiking the strap across her shoulder. “He’s the one that fires the rest of them up.”
“Any idea where we can find him now?”
“Sure. His lecture starts in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, is there anyone else you think we should talk to? Any other professors, a boyfriend, ex-boyfriend . . . ?”
“Her most recent boyfriend was Garret Bale—spends most of his time in the weight room. He’s a senior, but Meg dumped him last week. As for professors, she only has Baxter and William Daniels.”
Kirra stiffened, her skin paling.
He grazed her arm. “You okay?”
She flinched. “Yeah, fine.”
Ashley covered her mouth. “Oh, Kirra. I’m sorry, I—”
Kirra held up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize he was teaching or that Meg had a class with him.”
Who was William Daniels, and why did his name have such an effect on Kirra?
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She nodded.
He looked back to Ashley. Why did he have the feeling he was the only clueless one in the room? “Where can we find Professor Daniels?”
“We don’t need to talk to him,” Kirra said.
“Why not?”
“He has nothing to do with environmental science.”
“And he hardly knew Meg,” Ashley added. “I mean he knew who she was because of . . .” She looked at Kirra with a pained expression. “I mean . . . she was one of several hundred in his intro class, and she went out of her way to avoid him. You’d be wasting your time talking to him.”
Reef’s gaze shifted between a mortified-looking Ashley and a queasy-looking Kirra. What was going on?
“I’m sorry I have to rush off.” Ashley clutched the handle of her messenger bag. “But I’ve got a test in ten minutes that counts for a third of my grade. I can meet up with you two after . . .”
“That’s okay,” Kirra said. “I think we got everything we need, but give me a call if you think of anything else.”
Ashley nodded and mouthed “Sorry” to Kirra as she slipped through the doorway.
Reef waited until they were alone at the end of the hall before asking, “What was that all about?”
Kirra slipped her hat back on before stepping outside. Snow had started to fall. The burgundy knit cap was a striking contrast to her golden hair and the white flakes swirling around them. “What was what all about?”
“Professor Daniels?”
Kirra slinked her hands into her pea coat pockets. “Like Ashley said, he’d be no help to us. He’s a waste of time.”
She trudged on in front of him, her shoulders rigid, and her head down. Was she shaking?
He increased his stride and draped an arm around her slender shoulders.
She stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to warm you up. You’re shivering.”
“Oh. Right. Shivering. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He’d hold her in his arms anytime. “So where are we going?”
“To see Professor Baxter.”
“What do you mean they aren’t there?” his cousin roared over the phone as he pulled down the drive.
“I checked her place. She’s not there.”
“And McKenna?”
He looked at the McKenna family home in his rearview mirror. “I posed as a delivery guy saying I needed a package signed personally by the recipient—Reef McKenna—and the gal who answered said her brother was at the Iditarod.”
“Okay, so if they aren’t in Yancey and they aren’t at the race, where are they?”
He swallowed, acid bubbling up his throat. “I don’t know.”
“Then, find out!”
The line went dead.
He popped the lid off the Tums and tossed a couple in his mouth. He should have known that Kirra Jacobs would be a nuisance. She had trouble written all over her.
Kirra stepped into the auditorium, her heart in her throat as a million different emotions crashed through her. Her mind drifted back to her first class in this very room, her first day as a grad student, ready to take on the world. It was the day she met William—the sparks had been instantaneous, but in the end they’d burned her.
The room swirled around her, and she sank into an open seat, trying to catch a breath before she passed out.
Reef gazed over at her as the lights dimmed and the professor stopped talking. A video appeared on the large screen at the front of the auditorium.
He leaned toward her and whispered over the deep voice of the narrator, “You okay?”
She nodded and kept her gaze pinned on the wildlife frolicking across the screen. This is going to end very badly.
10
BETWEEN TAKOTNA AND OPHIR, ALASKA
MARCH 12, 8:30 A.M.
Kayden flew while Jake scanned the frozen ground several hundred feet below. He tried to ignore the tiny black pouch nestled in his front jean pocket, the outline of the ring pressing against his thigh. He’d been about to propose when the call came in from Reef. Now he’d have to wait for the opportune moment, but keeping silent was burning his lungs.
Kayden dipped the nose of the Cessna, making another sweep of the rugged trail as the sun rose full in the sky—a rare sight, and one they didn’t expect to have for long, since the infernal gray cloud cover was moving in again. They’d flown over a couple of the lead mushers, who were pressing toward Ophir after only taking a few hours to rest in Takotna—unlike the majority of the mushers, who had chosen to take the twenty-four-hour rest required at some point of the race in the well-equipped village.
The twenty-three-mile route between Takotna and Ophir was a series of switchbacks climbing up the ridge, making travel difficult for the mushers and dogs alike. So far there was no sign of Frank, his neon-green coat always an Iditarod standout.
Kayden swung around the last of the switchbacks, and Jake hollered, “There.”
“What?”
“I think we’ve got a musher in trouble.” He peered down at a sled flipped sideways along the northwest side of the ridge.
“I’m going to have to track west past the trail to find a landing spot.”
He peered at the dogs tangled on their line, no sign of the musher. He could be pinned beneath his sled. “Do it.”
Kayden landed the plane—skis attached to the wheels—and they disembarked. They took time to pull on their necessary winter gear. It’d be a couple-mile hike back to where he’d spotted the downed musher, and the temps were still below zero.
The air was frigid, but crisp—just how Jake liked it. He appreciated the sun peeking through the cloud cover, but it wouldn’t last long—another storm was headed their way.
When they reached the overturned sled, the dogs howled at their approach.
“Hello? Who’s there?” a man asked.
“Iditarod SAR,” Jake answered, following the sound of the man’s voice.
“Thank goodness. I’m down here.”
Jake peered over the ridge to find Warren Hunt—two-time Iditarod champ—clinging to a
narrow outcrop, his body flush with the ice-covered rock wall. Jake took in the hundred-foot drop below—Warren was one lucky man. “Hang on. We’ll get you up.”
He looked back at Kayden, who was already assessing their options. She scrounged through Warren’s gear bag. It had been tossed twenty feet from the sled but remained intact. She pulled out a rope and held it aloft.
Jake held out his hand. “Toss it here.”
“I can climb down to him.”
Of course she’d want to go the adventurous route. “No need. I’ll anchor the rope and send it down to him. He can climb up.”
She exhaled. “Fine. I’ll right the sled.”
“Wait and we’ll help you.”
“I’m quite capable.”
“I have no doubt where that’s concerned, but the dogs might try and bolt when the sled’s upright. Better him”—Jake gestured with a tilt of his chin to Warren—“handling the dogs while you and I right it.”
Kayden nodded, agreeing but clearly not pleased. Always so strong willed and yearning for adventure—it was a big part of why he loved her. Why he wanted her to be his wife.
Jake secured the rope around his waist and lowered the rest of it down to Warren. Digging his boots into the snow, he braced himself to hold Warren’s weight. Slowly but steadily, Warren climbed up hand over hand, his feet wrapped around the rope. He crested the edge of the ridge, and Kayden, lying flat on her stomach for stability, hefted him up onto solid ground. Warren moved straight for his team and exhaled in relief to find none of them injured.
“What happened?” Jake asked after they’d righted his sled and he’d seen to his dogs. “Get too close to the ridge?” It was easy enough to do, even for an expert musher like Warren Hunt.
“Only because a snowmobile nearly ran us right off the mountain.”
“What?”
“I caught a glimpse of Frank Weber off course, down there . . .” He gestured to the valley beneath the ridge. “I tried to wave him down. See if he needed help. He’s been off grid since Rainy Pass. Before I could flag his attention, this snowmobile came out of nowhere. I had to bank right to avoid being hit head on and ended up where you found me.”