Max ground his teeth and glared at the woman. What a load of moose droppings. Pretending to be a tourist? He ought to throw her over his shoulder and dump her at the Wiley Post-Will Rogers Memorial Airport with an order to go away and not come back. Yeah, as if she’d meekly obey him.
“Spring is a good time of year to see the aurora borealis,” Arna spoke hesitantly, catching Max’s eye with raised brows.
“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight, Mr. Taggert?” Serena threw the invitation over her shoulder as she inspected the rack of brochures by the door.
Max blinked. Dinner? Like a date? Arna better have a padded room upstairs, because this lady was certifiable if she thought he’d have anything else to do with her. What the Iñupiat called pokreitok—a fool.
But for the first time, he wondered about her reasons for last night. Had it just been the booze and the cold and fear? Would any warm male have done? He could chalk up the earth-shattering sex to years’ worth of abstinence. But what about her? With her looks and career? Staying in hotels all over the world. Always moving on to the next assignment. She had the perfect job for anonymous one-night stands. Last night had probably been just one more foreign experience to her.
“Perhaps your friends could join us,” Serena urged. “You can tell me all about life in the northernmost city in the United States.”
Now she was involving Arna and Chris? She’d try to make him talk about himself and pump acquaintances for info? No way in hell he’d be a party to that.
“Mickey’s waiting for me.” He strode out the door, swung into his truck and tore off down the street.
“WELL.” For the second time in five minutes Serena kept her television smile pasted on, but she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She hadn’t been prepared to run into Max here. Not now. Not yet. She needed a shower first. And a fresh change of clothes. And a time machine.
If she could, she’d kick herself for being such an idiot last night. Why on earth had she had sex with that knuckle-dragging Neanderthal? Of course, he hadn’t made love like a Neanderthal… Or was it just the circumstances of the moment that had made her come apart in his arms?
“I’m afraid I upset his schedule yesterday.” She shrugged and gave the hotel owner a sheepish smile.
The Iñupiat woman, Arna, shrugged. “Don’t mind Max. He’s always like that.” Arna—short for Arnaaluk, she’d said, which meant Sea Woman—was unsmiling but not unfriendly.
“She’s right,” the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed young man chimed in from behind the bar. “Max keeps to himself mostly. He only speaks to us when he has to.” The guy moved out from behind the bar and approached the desk, extending his right hand. “I’m Chris, Arna’s husband.”
Serena didn’t hide her surprise very well. Chris was visibly younger than his wife, Serena would guess in his mid-twenties to her late-thirties. And where Chris was tall, with twinkling blue eyes, Arna was slightly chubby, with a long, black braid hanging down her back.
He moved behind the desk to put his arm around his wife. “We can still have a celebration tonight. How about we invite some friends over and welcome you to Barrow in style.”
She smiled at his little pun on her television show’s name.
Arna kept a straight face, but rolled her eyes and nudged her husband with her elbow. “Chris.” But then a look passed between the couple that proclaimed their love for each other louder than words. So much that Serena felt like a third wheel standing there.
Nevertheless, she said, “That would be wonderful. I’m looking forward to it. But first, I need something to wear.”
Arna handed her a map and marked the clothing store with an X.
“And be careful,” Chris called to her as she headed for the door. “The wind is ferocious, and the sun sets around eight this time of year—be sure you’re back before dark. And watch out for ice fog.”
Serena nodded, grateful for the map and the advice, and headed out to her rented SUV.
Hard to believe she was staying in a hotel named the North Slope Inn. Not exactly five-star. If her viewers could see her now. But the room was…serviceable. As was the rest of the hotel. Lots of faux wood paneling and a decor her mother would’ve kindly described as early poverty. A mishmash of furnishings that seemed to have been collected from Goodwill. But it was comfortable, boasted cable TV and internet service and most importantly, it was warm. These last couple days in March the temperature here was barely above zero degrees. And that was during the day. She’d definitely need some extreme winter clothes.
The past two days had finally caught up with her. She was desperate for a hot shower and a real bed. But she wanted clean clothes to change into. And maybe while she shopped, she could do a little snooping.
As she reached to open her car door a hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “You’re wasting your time here.”
Serena twisted her wrist out of his grasp and spun to face Max. “It’s my time to waste.”
“This can be a dangerous village for people who aren’t used to this kind of climate.”
“Are you threatening me?”
He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “Would you leave if I were?”
“No.” She raised her chin and folded her arms for good measure.
“Serena, I promise you there’s nothing to investigate. There’s no wrong to be righted here. Just go back to L.A. and find some other poor schmuck to harass.” The muscle in his jaw ticked and she wanted to smooth her palm down his cheek.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she was making a moron of herself for nothing. But her gut told her she shouldn’t leave just yet. And her father had always listened to his gut.
“If there’s nothing to investigate, then I won’t find anything to dig up. And you don’t have any reason to worry.”
His scowl darkened and he leaned in, whispering, “Go. Home.”
He was so close his nose almost touched hers. His cheeks were rough and reddened, and ice crystals dotted his beard. Memories of last night rushed over her. Her panic after he’d been gone for so long, and the relief when he’d come back. Her respect. And attraction. With a shiver, she remembered the feel of Max’s callused hands running over her skin. His mouth on her nipple. She’d had the most powerful sex of her life in the cargo space of a prop plane.
Shake it off, Serena.
“I’ll leave when I’m ready.”
With a snarl and a growl, he spun on his heel and stalked off.
Serena shivered again, and not from the cold. Max’s nearness had heated her body faster than an electric blanket. Only after she watched him get into a battered, rusty pickup did she open her door, climb into her SUV and study the map.
The pilot she’d chartered in Nome this morning was a retired U.S. Coast Guard and his Cessna 130 was a newer and roomier plane than Max’s. Still, a town three hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle was not on her list of top one hundred must visit places.
As they had banked over the city of Barrow, she’d caught her first glimpse of the triangular-shaped town perched on the edge of the Arctic Ocean. The snow was still so high and ice so packed against the coastline, it’d been hard to distinguish sea from land.
Now that she was down on the ground, it didn’t look much different. The land was barren. No vegetation in sight except tundra and even that was covered in snow right now. Only the main roads were plowed. Serena passed a large supermarket, a hospital with new wings under construction and a few office buildings.
Clustered among all these were small wooden homes built on pilings to keep them from melting the permafrost and sinking. Parked in the front yards of the houses were a hodgepodge of trucks, four-wheel ATVs, snow-mobiles and small boats. The overcast weather and the void of people outdoors gave the town a ghostly quality, eerily silent except for the snow crunching under her tires.
She finally found the clothing shop Arna had told her about and purchased a couple pairs of blue jeans, a few heavy sweaters an
d, on the shop lady’s recommendation, a pair of long underwear and some Sorel boots.
“Have you had this shop a long time?” Serena casually asked.
“Almost thirty years now,” the lady replied.
“I ran into a pilot from here while I was in Anchorage, a Max Taggert. Do you know him?”
The shop lady frowned. “Remember him always fighting in school. Used to get my son in trouble all the time.”
“Really?” Serena’s bull meter went on alert. “Do you know why he was so violent as a kid?”
The white lady’s expression flattened. “Seems to me he had a chip on his shoulder about his parents.”
Serena blinked, thanked the lady and carried her purchases to her car. Sounded to her like Max had been the target of racism in his childhood. But that was just one person’s experience. She needed to question a lot more people before she assumed.
Hooking into her seat belt, she started the car and took in her surroundings. The sun was low on the horizon and the wind had whipped up the snowdrifts. The temperature had dropped considerably and visibility was going to make it a challenge finding her way back to the hotel.
After twenty minutes, her fears were realized. She must have made a wrong turn somewhere. The ice fog was so dense, she was afraid to go any farther without knowing exactly how to get there. She pulled the car over and grabbed her cell from her purse, but she hadn’t charged it in days. Damn. The streets were empty, the ice fog thickened and she started to panic.
What was she doing in this place? She could be sitting by the pool with dinner reservations tonight. Going to a movie, meeting her friends at a bar. She’d been crazy to think she could do anything like this on her own.
Calm down, Serena. You can do this. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the way she’d come in her mind.
A horn honked, and she jumped, her heart pounding. The window of the truck beside her came down and she caught a glimpse of Mickey in the seat beside the driver. It was Max. He stuck his arm out, motioned her to follow him and then pulled ahead.
She followed him back to the hotel and expected him to get out, but he drove off once she pulled into a parking space. How had he known where she was? He had to have followed her. So, he was spying on her?
If he was into some sort of criminal activity, why had he bothered to save her just now? Most of the stores had already closed, but she could’ve knocked on someone’s door and borrowed a phone. This made it the second time he’d come to her rescue.
And it was difficult to be objective about a hero.
A FEW HOURS LATER, after a shower and a nap, she came down the stairs to the loud murmur of voices. The lobby, which looked more like her grandmother’s living room, was full of people.
“Serena, everyone’s so excited to meet you,” Arna greeted her as she stepped into the throng. “And when they heard you were without luggage, they brought gifts.”
An old Inuit with long gray hair stepped forward and offered her a large foil-wrapped package. “Welcome to Barrow, Ms. Sandstone.”
“Serena, this is Mayor Chuka, mayor of the North Slope Borough. He’s also our whaling captain.”
Serena took the packet, which felt like fish meat. “Thank you so much, Mayor Chuka. Please call me Serena.”
“I’ll get that whale meat on the grill, Mayor.” Chris took her gift and—wait. Did he say “whale” meat? Serena glanced warily back at the foil-wrapped food disappearing into the kitchen as Arna tugged her to the next person.
She met a scientist from the old naval-base-turned-research-lab who was studying climate change and a Korean schoolteacher. There was a Tonkin grocery store owner and a Latino nurse who’d just arrived to work at the hospital. Each brought her a gift. A pair of snow pants, some sealskin mitts, a traditional, fur-lined parka and some moose meat. Serena was overwhelmed by their generosity.
“Dinner is served, folks,” Chris called from the kitchen.
“You won’t find a better home-cooked meal anywhere in the Arctic,” Arna bragged. Everyone filed in to the buffet-style dinner.
The food was simple but good. Wine and coffee were poured and, after everyone had eaten, Serena stood and raised her plastic cup. “To the people of Barrow, the most welcoming and generous folks I’ve met in all my travels.” As they clinked their glasses to the toast, Serena wondered about Max. Wasn’t he part of this community? Even if he hid away from reporters, surely he had friends here in town.
“My compliments to the chef,” she told Chris when he came by to take her plate. “This meal was as good as any five-star restaurant I’ve been in.”
Chris beamed. “Thank you.”
“Wouldn’t Max normally come to a gathering like this? Would he have come if I wasn’t here?”
Chris was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. “No way. He’s our resident hermit. He’s my business partner, but he won’t even come to dinner when it’s just me and Arna. Even before the crash, he—”
“Chris.” Arna shut him down with a stern frown.
An uncomfortable moment passed and her husband bowed out, gathering plates from the other guests. Arna held Serena’s gaze, her scowl replaced with a placid expression.
“Is there something you don’t want me to know about Max Taggert?”
The hotel owner shook her head. “He may keep to himself, but whenever we have needed him, he has been there. As for the rest, it is his story to tell.” She turned and walked away.
His story? Did that mean the rumors about him were not just rumors? But Chris had started to say something about before the plane crash. It sounded as if there might be more secrets in Max Taggert’s life.
“How long are you staying, Serena?” the mayor asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I’m supposed to be in Buenos Aires in a couple of weeks.”
“This weekend we celebrate the Piuraagiaqta, the Spring Festival. There are games for the children and people dressed in costumes. I hope you will attend?”
“The pee-ur-ahg-ee-ahk-tah?” A perfect excuse to get out and meet more people and question them about Max. Surely there was someone else in this town who knew what had happened to him. She just had to ask around. Isn’t that what investigative journalists did?
She smiled at the mayor. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Besides, she enjoyed learning the traditions and customs of the people she visited. The stories and legends that were passed down from generation to generation. She would miss that after she quit. She ought to buy a video camera while she was here and record the festival.
But mostly, it gave her a reason to stay in town, to seek out Max. She wanted to find out what his story was, learn everything about him. She couldn’t explain her fascination with the man. All she knew was that she was here now, and she didn’t want to go until she’d discovered what had really happened out there in the aftermath of his plane crash, and what had put such sorrow in his eyes.
The fact that she wanted to soothe his anguish was completely beside the point.
6
“I’M SO GLAD you could attend our Piuraagiaqta this weekend, Ms. Sandstone.” Mayor Chuka appeared by Serena’s side as she stood along the main road waiting for the parade to start.
“Me, too, and please, call me Serena.” Considering the size of the town, there was a fairly large crowd gathered here this morning. The sun was shining, which was nice. It’d been cloudy since she got here.
The gloomy weather hadn’t bothered her too much because she’d spent the past two days mostly in her room researching any and everything to do with the plane crash.
Turned out investigative journalism could be kind of boring. But she had managed to learn a few interesting facts.
The weather recorded for the day of the crash was clear and sunny. No storms, no ice, no weather-related reason for the crash. She’d also learned—via a not-quite-above-board interview with a really nice guy at the Barrow Savings and Loan—that Max had bought his new plane with funds that had appea
red in his account from a bank in Dallas, Texas.
And Max’s father lived in Texas. So, maybe his father had loaned him the money. Nothing underhanded about that.
But she’d also learned that the man whose life Max had saved was Beau Ramsey, COO of a company called NRT Transport. NRT Transport also had an office in Dallas.
The other two, who had died in Max’s plane crash were also executives at NRT Transport, and, most interestingly, Max was listed as co-owner of the company. Those men weren’t just paying customers. They were Max’s business partners.
Maybe Max had something to gain by killing his partners. Maybe some sort of insurance payout? But a plane crash seemed a dangerous way to do it. How could he be sure he wouldn’t die too? And what about Ramsey? Was he meant to live? Or had Max had a change of heart? If he were trying to cover up a murder, why would Max have dragged the only witness to his crime twenty miles to save his life?
None of the men, including Max, had any ties to drugs or previous arrests that she could discover. She’d even called a friend of a friend in the U.S. Customs and Immigration department to see if he could dig up anything. Nada.
She’d also put a call in to the FAA, but they hadn’t been able to answer her questions about the findings from the crash. Someone was supposed to get back to her.
In the meantime, she was going to enjoy the festival and inquire about Max from his fellow Barrowans.
Despite the sunshine, the air was crisp, the temperature not much above freezing. Serena wore her new traditional Inuit parka and sealskin mittens. “Do you mind if I record your town’s festivities, Mayor?” Serena held up the convenient palm-size video camera she’d purchased yesterday after her trip to the savings and loan.
“Not at all,” the mayor replied. “And you must call me Edgar.”
She smiled, aimed the camera at him and pushed the record button. After she got him to introduce himself and pronounce the name of the spring festival, she panned the camera out to film the people lining the other side of the street. Everyone on her viewfinder screen was looking directly at her and waving, and she could hear the buzz of murmurs all around her. She overheard the words “famous star” and “her own cable show” and “be on TV.”
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