Witness on the Run

by Susan Cliff

  “You don’t need chains for the ice road?” she asked.

  “It depends on the temperature and conditions. When it’s really cold, tires have good traction, and the weight of the load helps them grip. The main danger isn’t slipping so much as breaking through.”

  Her eyes widened in distress. Too late, he remembered the story of her father’s death.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “The ice gets slushy at the end of the season. Right now, it’s rock-solid, and they test it every week.”

  She put another cup of soup in the microwave, avoiding his gaze.

  “This section is the safest part of the route. It’s wide and flat, and the speed limit is ten miles per hour. You’ll be bored.”

  “I won’t be bored,” she said.

  He sipped his soup instead of arguing. She went into the bathroom and slid the door shut. The motion caused her backpack to tip on its side. A book fell out, so he picked it up and flipped through the pages. He’d never read a graphic novel before. He’d expected it to be like a comic, with superheroes and action reels.

  It had action reels. Just a different kind of action than he’d anticipated. There were several lovingly detailed illustrations of a couple having sex.

  The microwave dinged, which startled him into returning the book to her backpack. He noticed an ID card inside. He was already snooping, so he glanced at the card quickly before putting it back. She emerged from the bathroom and retrieved her soup. They finished the meal in silence. His thoughts boomeranged from erotic art and hot memories to stolen IDs and frozen wastelands.

  “Are you sure you want to come with me to Prudhoe Bay?” he asked.

  Her brow furrowed. “What choice do I have?”

  “There’s a camp here like the one in Coldfoot. Separate bunks for men and women.”

  “Is that what you want? Separate bunks?”

  “No.”

  “Then let’s keep going.”

  He tossed his empty cup in the trash, feeling conflicted. A part of him wanted to confront her right now about the ID and everything else. Another part of him, centered below the waist, wanted to take her to the hotel and not talk at all. He drummed his fingertips against the wheel, searching for a good compromise.

  “When we get there, we need to have a conversation about what happened in Willow.”

  She drew in a sharp breath and held it. For a moment he thought she might refuse. She seemed more comfortable with the idea of sharing her body than telling her secrets. Then she gave a terse nod.

  He felt a mixture of relief and unease as he pulled forward. He hoped he hadn’t negotiated himself out of her bed. Sleeping with her was a bad idea. It would cross a line he couldn’t come back from, but he was willing to take that chance. He’d do anything to touch her again. He could sacrifice his ice road contract. He could even give up on staying numb and protecting his frozen heart.

  The pages of her graphic novel had captured his imagination. It read like a window into her desires. Her reaction to last night’s orgasm had been telling. She wasn’t experienced in receiving pleasure. Giving her a taste of what she’d been missing was an irresistible temptation. If she let him, he’d show her how good it could be.

  The ice road was as uneventful as he’d promised. At night, the frozen pathway looked like regular asphalt, tracked with snow. Broad daylight turned it into a sparkling mosaic, crystal blue in some places, foggy gray in others. There were clear sections that resembled glass, and you could see the ocean beneath it.

  Ice crackled under his truck’s weight as they traveled toward the bay. It was a disconcerting sound, but normal. The ice shifted and moved with the weight of the vehicle, like a reed that would bend rather than break.

  “Why do you have to go this slow?” she asked, gripping her armrests.

  “Driving over ice causes waves to form under the surface. The faster you go, the more powerful the wave. When two opposing waves crash together, it creates a surge of energy, like an earthquake.”

  “So if two trucks go toward each other too fast, the ice cracks?”

  “Yes. That’s why the route is restricted to a few trucks at a time traveling at low speeds. There’s no rush hour. No crashing waves.”

  “No ice-quakes.”

  “No ice-quakes,” he agreed.

  The information didn’t seem to calm her nerves. She kept her eyes on the surface, as if searching for signs of trouble. Cam wasn’t worried about the ice failing. All his fears and anxieties were focused elsewhere.

  Time stretched into infinity on the way to Prudhoe Bay. Although the distance was short, the route was slow and arduous. It took over an hour to reach the construction zone, and another hour to unload the trailer. Then they were on the road again.

  The best hotel in the bay was located between the sprawling oil fields and a small airport. It offered private, comfortable rooms for executives and engineers who could afford the expense. Truckers tended to choose the cheapest accommodations, so there were no other rigs in the parking lot. Cam paid at the front desk while Tala waited outside. Then they grabbed dinner in the empty café. He was too nervous to eat much. She nibbled on fruit, which drew his attention to her lips. Her braids were softly mussed, her eyes luminous. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was close. She was breathtaking.

  It dawned on him that he couldn’t remember every detail of Jenny’s face anymore. When he conjured an image of her, it was from a photograph he’d memorized. She’d had a great smile. She’d laughed often, but he didn’t hear the sound in his head. He couldn’t picture her hand gestures, or the exact shade of her hair. He no longer felt the crushing pain of loss, either. Just a faint ache.

  When they were finished, they went down the hall to his room. It wasn’t as cozy as Ann’s Cabins, or as rustic as Coldfoot Camp. The walls and carpet were a nondescript beige. A large bed with white sheets and a thick comforter took up about half the space. He set his duffel by the flat-screen TV. She placed her backpack in the only chair.

  They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. He cleared his throat, trying to think of a conversation opener.

  Then she ambushed him.

  She rushed forward and collided with his chest. He made a sound of surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t object to her kiss, though he recognized it as an attempt to silence him. The move worked like a charm. She touched her tongue to his and twined her fingers in his hair. Her mouth was hot and sweet and eager. He responded with an enthusiastic groan. He’d accept a frantic groping by a beautiful woman. His body didn’t care about the reasons for her urgency. She was clutching his hair and rubbing against him. He responded predictably.

  She kept moving forward until he fell back on the bed. He brought her on top of him, forgetting everything he’d meant to say. She straddled his waist, just as she had the previous night. The thought of repeating that sequence without clothes on exploded in his mind. His hands slid under her shirt, seeking warm skin and soft breasts. She was wearing a bra with lacy cups. His thumbs brushed over her taut nipples, making her gasp.

  She stared down at him, lips parted. Tulips in spring. He imagined that mouth on his chest, trailing lower. He shuddered in anticipation. She rocked her hips back and forth, dipping her head to kiss him again. He felt deliciously trapped underneath her, and he liked it, but he needed to take control. If he let her set the pace, this would be over in minutes.

  He wanted to undress her slowly and learn every inch of her body. He wanted to show her the consideration her husband hadn’t.

  Her dead husband.

  Oof.

  He broke the kiss, panting. He’d forgotten their talk, which really needed to happen now. Waiting until after wouldn’t be gentlemanly. It would ruin the trust they’d built. He wished he didn’t care, but he did. She’d thawed ou
t his heart, and now he couldn’t just bang her.

  Very carefully, he lifted her off him and set her aside.

  “What’s wrong?” she murmured.

  “We have to talk.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Now.”

  She glanced at his erection, her gaze half-lidded. “I’d rather do something else.”

  Smothering a groan, he rose from the bed. “So would I, but I have to say this first. You know that news report I told you about, with your photo?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s been an update. The police found a dead body in Willow.”

  She swallowed visibly. “Oh?”

  “Foul play is suspected. They ran your picture again without the fake name.”

  Her face paled as she digested this information.

  “You’re not just a missing waitress any longer, Tala. You’re connected to a murder investigation.”

  Chapter 15

  Tala’s breaths quickened and her thoughts spun out of control.

  She wasn’t sure how to interpret this new development, or Cam’s insistence on sharing it. Didn’t he want to sleep with her? His body was clearly ready, and he’d responded to her kisses, only to push her aside and share this news.

  Sure, she’d had an ulterior motive. She’d jumped on him to avoid this very conversation, but it hadn’t worked. She wasn’t sexy enough to tempt him. Her chest tightened with shame. Cheeks flaming, she stared at the carpet beneath his feet.

  “Was it self-defense?” he asked.

  Her gaze rose to his face. “What?”

  “Did Duane come after you, and you defended yourself?”

  She blinked in confusion. It dawned on her that he thought she’d been an active participant in the murder. He thought the dead body in Willow belonged to Duane. She rose to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “When did you watch the news?”

  “This morning, in Coldfoot.”

  “You saw it this morning, and you didn’t tell me?”

  He inclined his head.

  “Why did you wait?”

  “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  She gaped at him, incredulous.

  “I thought you might freak out,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “I decided not to bring it up until we were alone and in a safe place.”

  “You waited until you had control of the situation, and I couldn’t run away.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I could have waited until tomorrow morning,” he said pointedly.

  She would have preferred that. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I care about you,” he growled. “I actually want to help you even more than I want to sleep with you!”

  “Maybe you just want to ruin it,” she shot back. “You’re afraid to sleep with me. You’d rather avoid intimacy and stay true to your dead wife.”

  His eyes narrowed in warning. “We’re not talking about my dead wife right now. We’re talking about your dead husband. I’m not trying to ruin my chances to be with you. I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m thinking about the long term.”

  “The long term? Really?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “You’re not ready for that, Cam. You have to let go before you can move on.”

  “I’ll work on it, if you meet me halfway. Tell me what happened in Willow.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll call the police. You were a cop. You know them.”

  “I don’t know any cops in Alaska. I won’t call them.”

  She sat down, twisting her hands in her lap.

  “I want to protect you, but I can’t do it blindly. I need to understand what you did and who we’re up against.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Come on, Tala. A dead body turned up the day after you went missing. You have to know something.”

  “You think I killed him?”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  He meant it. She could read the sincerity in his stellar brown eyes, along with strength and kindness. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. She wouldn’t find a better person to share her secrets with. The prospect of reliving those dark details made her break out in a cold sweat. She took a deep breath, wondering if it was possible to explode from anxiety. “The dead man isn’t Duane,” she said finally. “I’d kill him in a heartbeat, but I didn’t.”

  “Did he hire someone to track you down?”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s a loner who enjoys the hunt. He’d come alone. This has nothing to do with him.”

  Cam frowned at this news. “If it’s not Duane, who is it?”

  “A customer,” she said, moistening her lips. She had to tell him the whole story. “He walked in the diner with two other men, first thing in the morning. They ordered breakfast. A cop came in around the same time. He sat at the counter by himself. There was a weird vibe between them, like they knew each other, but they were pretending not to.”

  “Were they regulars?”

  “I hadn’t seen any of them before.”

  “What kind of cop?”

  “State police. He had a white squad car and a dark blue uniform.”

  “Go on.”

  She swallowed hard. “The three men ate breakfast and left. Two of them didn’t finish their plates, which was a little strange. I took out the trash while they were still in the parking lot. When I heard the gunshot, I crouched down and hid. The cop stood watch while they loaded the body into the trunk of a car.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “An old sedan. I don’t know.”

  “Who did the shooting?”

  “The blond one, I’m assuming. He had the gun.”

  “Was this same guy from the Walmart parking lot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you run?”

  “Because the cop told them to clean up the mess and pointed to the diner. They went inside to get me. I waited until the cop left. Then I started running.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “I don’t think so, but I left the trash gate open. There was nowhere to hide. They must have figured I ran to the truck stop.”

  “The cop was the leader?”

  “I guess.”

  “Shooting a guy in a public parking lot isn’t a smart move.”

  Tala nodded in agreement. “The cop seemed angry about it. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to go down like that.”

  “Something was supposed to go down. They were too nervous to eat.”

  “The victim ate.”

  “He didn’t know what was coming,” Cam said, pacing the room. “For whatever reason, they killed him on the spot. Then they had to deal with you. When you ran away from the diner, they knew you’d witnessed the crime. They probably saw my truck pull out of the lot and head north. So they dumped the body and came after us.”

  The succinct summary gave her chills. “And now I’m doomed.”

  “You’re not doomed,” Cam said. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Tala took a few deep breaths to calm herself. He sounded optimistic, in addition to sympathetic. He hadn’t questioned her story or acted suspicious. His faith in her was reassuring. She supposed the details weren’t as shocking as he’d imagined. “Are you glad I’m not a murderer?”

  “I’m kind of disappointed your ex is still alive, actually.”

  She smiled at his dark joke. His opinion mattered to her, because she cared about him. She was glad he hadn’t judged her. He hadn’t criticized her for running away. He’d believed her. She felt like a weight had been lift
ed off her shoulders. She didn’t feel alone anymore. Maybe they could figure this out—together.

  He stopped pacing and studied her. “I understand why you don’t want to call the state police.”

  “I don’t want to call any police.”

  “What if we went to someone I trust in Seattle?”

  “How would I get there?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  She stood, shaking her head. Talking to him was one thing, but she wasn’t ready to make a decision of this magnitude. Going to Seattle with Cam meant stepping out of her comfort zone. It meant working with law enforcement and trusting a justice system that hadn’t served her people well, historically. It meant opening herself up to prosecution for her own crimes. It meant that she had to stop running and hiding. That was a lot.

  He waited for her to respond, not pressuring her.

  “I’ll think about it,” she murmured.

  “That’s what you said when I offered to set you up in a cabin in Fairbanks.”

  Her pulse kicked up a notch at the reminder. They were still circling around the idea of sleeping together. The comment he’d made earlier about giving her lots of orgasms hung in the air between them. She wanted to return the favor—and not because she felt grateful, or obligated. She wanted to be with him for herself.

  His gaze lowered to her lips and lingered there. Her seduction attempt hadn’t failed; it had been momentarily interrupted. There was no lack of desire on his part. His intentions hadn’t changed.

  Her cheeks suffused with heat. “I should take a shower.”

  “Be my guest.”

  She grabbed her backpack before heading into the bathroom. It had clean white tiles, a small sink and a new-looking bathtub. She hadn’t taken a bath in ages, so she filled the tub for a nice soak. She took the time to wash her hair and shave her legs. He was going to see her naked, up close and personal. She didn’t know if they could be together “long term.” If tonight was all they had, she wanted it to be special.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, fresh-scrubbed and wrapped in towels, Cam was standing by the only window. The hotel wasn’t fancy, and the oil fields in the distance didn’t improve the bleak landscape, but the sky was spectacular. Northern lights trailed across the starry expanse, misty and ethereal.