He was never going to trust her.
* * *
ALANNA WAS SILENT in the passenger seat as Peter drove her and Chance in his truck the long way around the base of the mountain the next day. They were headed for Luna. Five years ago, Luna police had stopped the Altiers and arrested them. They’d loaded her and her “siblings” into a police car and driven them to the Luna hospital to be checked out. It was the last place she’d seen any of the people she’d called family for most of her childhood.
Last night, Peter had asked if she wanted to go there, to get checked out at the hospital after being trapped in that avalanche. But she had no desire to go back to that hospital, to those memories. And besides still feeling cold and being exhausted, she’d been okay. The worst of it was calling her rental company to let them know what had happened to their truck.
The fastest way to get to Luna was actually to drive up into the mountain and then back down. But after the avalanche yesterday, that wasn’t happening. So, she and Peter had spent an awkward hour and a half in his truck. They had at least another hour to go before they made it to the far side of town, where Alanna thought one of Julian’s hideouts might be.
She’d spent a long time last night trying to decode the old cipher she and her “siblings” had created, without much luck. But in the morning, she’d had an epiphany about one of them. Hopefully, she was right, because she’d convinced Peter to trust her and come along without notifying his department.
There was a new tension between them since he’d admitted what had happened to him. The uncomfortable silence was worse than sleeping in Peter’s guest bedroom, hearing him move around one room over. Smelling like his soap and shampoo, and knowing he hadn’t insisted she stay at his place because of the roads, like he’d claimed. The truth was, he didn’t trust her not to go off on her own, even though she’d promised she wouldn’t.
She squeezed her hands tightly together and said, “Maybe that woman didn’t blow herself up. Maybe the explosive had a remote detonator.”
“No,” Peter replied, not even sounding surprised to hear the suggestion after an hour and a half of near-silence. “There was an investigation. She set it off herself.”
“Well, you don’t know what they told her. Maybe she felt like she had no choice. Maybe they threatened to kill her family if she didn’t do it. I’ve heard that more than once from victims of violent crime. The person who did it threatens someone they love if they ever talk. After the things they’ve suffered, the victim believes it. This could be a more extreme version.”
“Maybe,” Peter agreed. He glanced her way, looking intrigued, and she realized that he didn’t know what she did for a living.
“I work for a nonprofit back home.” Calling anywhere home besides Desparre still felt strange, especially now that she was back in Alaska, but it was true. Chicago had become her home now.
The thought wiggled around in her brain, bittersweet. Maybe she was truly starting to let go of the people she’d loved most of her life.
Her parents, Kensie, Colter and Flynn had all worked hard to bring her into their lives, to show her how much they loved her. There was still so much missing, so many memories with them she’d never be able to have, but she’d never stopped loving them, either.
Shaking off her musings for another time, Alanna said, “The nonprofit works with victims of violent crime.”
“You’re a therapist?” He sounded surprised.
“No. It’s not that kind of place. We do have support groups, and I’ve gotten Chance certified as a therapy dog so he can come and sit with people. But we also help people navigate the legal system, act as an intermediary with police when necessary and help them transition back to their regular life. Technically, my job is as a case manager, so I help identify what people need when they first come to us.”
“Why did you choose violent crime?”
She darted a glance at him, expecting to see suspicion on his face. When most people heard about her past and her career choice, they assumed she’d been harmed during her years with the Altiers, despite her insistence otherwise.
“I guess I just...” She sighed, wishing it was something she knew how to put in words. “When I came home, I got a lot of attention. All these people I didn’t know wanted to help me. They meant well, even if it made me anxious to have them come up to me and ask for details, looking like they just wanted a good story. But in some ways, it was a good thing. The fact that we were all found after so many years inspired a pair of ex-cops who lived near me to start a cold case club. They’ve solved a dozen cases since then.”
Peter nodded, his gaze catching hers briefly before he looked back out the front windshield. The road had been cleared yesterday, but had a new dusting of snow from the morning. “You’re doing it out of guilt.”
She frowned. “Not guilt—”
“I don’t mean it in a bad way. Just—I get it. You feel like these other people who had it worse than you should be getting the attention, the resources, you did.”
“Sort of.” She fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable sharing this but somehow feeling he’d empathize. No one else had understood it quite so well. “I also understand how confusing it is to try to fit back into your normal life. I don’t identify with the way most of these people have been harmed. But I understand some of it. My case got a lot of press, so most of them recognize my name. They tell me it makes them feel more connected to me, because I’ve personally experienced some of it. And I like helping people.”
“You’re a good person.”
There was such honesty in his voice, mixed with just a hint of surprise, that Alanna wasn’t sure what to say. Her “thanks” was delayed and too quiet.
Peter shrugged, giving her a little grin that sent a flutter of awareness through her. “Don’t thank me. That’s all on you.”
She felt herself grin in response and the tension that had filled the truck since they’d sat together at his breakfast table this morning finally eased. Even Chance seemed to feel it, scooting forward and shoving his head through the space between the seats.
Alanna stroked his silky fur as she stared at Peter’s profile. She had a sudden vision of the first moment he’d approached her four days ago, the way he’d angled his body, making his weapon more visible. But his right side wasn’t just where he kept his gun; it was also the side with his good ear. He’d done it so he could hear her better, not to intimidate her.
Maybe there were other things she was misinterpreting, too. Yes, he’d admitted he hadn’t trusted her when he’d met her. But he’d let her stay in his house. He’d called in to work this morning and she’d overheard him telling someone he was running a lead today and would be late for his Sunday shift. He hadn’t mentioned her involvement.
It was the deal they’d struck. She’d share the location she thought she’d figured out from the ruined list and they’d check it out, just the two of them.
So far, he was keeping up his end of the bargain. She had her doubts that he would continue to do so if they actually found Darcy, but this seemed to be the best way forward.
She’d insisted on secrecy because she’d feared if police showed up, it would escalate everything and Darcy might do something stupid. Alanna’s gut clenched at the memory of Darcy and Johnny shooting at Kensie five years ago. If the police were there this time, they would see the kidnapper lifting a weapon as a legitimate reason to open fire in return. Her concern had been that Darcy would end up getting herself killed.
But suddenly, she was struck with a totally different worry.
If it was just her and Darcy, Alanna wanted to believe she could talk some sense into the woman who’d raised her since she was five years old. She wanted to believe that if Peter’s presence threatened Darcy, Alanna standing in front of him would keep him safe. But was that realistic?
Or was she fooling herself?
&n
bsp; As Peter met her gaze again, giving her a quick, genuine smile, she tried to smile back.
He was prickly, and she still wasn’t totally sure where she stood with him. But he was smart and capable and he’d run to save her when he could have just as easily stepped back and saved himself from that avalanche. From the moment he’d wrapped his fingers in her coat and held on even as the snow threatened to send them both over a mountain, she’d started to care about him. Probably more than she should.
If she was wrong about Darcy, was she risking Peter’s life by bringing him with her?
Chapter Eight
Peter stared at Alanna across the tiny wooden table in the overcrowded coffee shop in downtown Luna. She was back in the jeans and light purple sweater she’d been wearing yesterday, but he couldn’t stop picturing her the way she’d looked last night in his too-large sweatpants and long-sleeved T-shirt.
She flushed at his stare, redirecting her gaze to the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. At her side, Chance sat patiently, his size making him look like her protector.
The coffee shop had been here since he was a teenager and he’d spent hours in front of the fireplace over the years. Playing board games from the stack the owners always kept on hand or reading a book from the shelves on the far wall. With a first date or a long-term girlfriend. With family or a group of friends. Or, in those first six months after coming home, feeling adrift and unsure of what the rest of his life held, by himself.
They were less than twenty minutes from the location Alanna thought she’d identified from the Altiers’ coded list. Peter had told her he wanted to stop here to take a break from driving, to rest a little before a possible confrontation with Darcy. The truth was, he needed to give his fellow officers a chance to catch up.
He’d called in to the station that morning, giving the story he and Alanna had agreed upon: he was running a long-shot lead and would let them know how it panned out. She’d been just around the corner, listening in, not realizing he could see her reflection in the mirror across the hall.
When she’d slipped back down the hall, he’d quickly texted Tate with the real story. He felt guilty about it—and Tate had also reminded him that technically, the Desparre police department had no jurisdiction here. But he trusted his partner. He didn’t know the Luna officers. He had no idea what Darcy would do if she was cornered, but he wanted to make sure Alanna was safe.
Still, he didn’t like betraying her trust.
A few days ago, that wouldn’t have mattered to him. He would have considered it a necessary lie for the possibility of rescuing those kids. Now, after the things she’d shared about her life with the Altiers, he understood why her loyalty was conflicted. For the first time in two years, he even sympathized with the woman who’d killed herself—and almost killed him—when she’d been on the verge of being rescued.
He’d always pitied her. But there’d been too much anger for more than that. Peter had always assumed the hostage had been brainwashed, that she’d hit that detonator to protect the terrorists who had taken her. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she’d done it to protect her family, because after nearly six months of being terrorized, she could see no other option.
“What are you thinking?” Alanna asked.
When he blinked and refocused, he realized she was staring at him with an expression that said too many emotions had been obvious on his face.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” he blurted. From all the headlines, all the newspaper stories, he’d expected a conflicted, confused woman who’d grown up isolated and brainwashed, who’d come to Desparre for her own agenda.
A hesitant smile turned up her lips, warmed her deep brown eyes. “I assume that’s a good thing?”
He was attracted to her. The realization slammed into him with an intensity that made him slump back in his chair. It wasn’t just her long, silky hair, those plump lips or the secrets in the depths of her eyes. He’d seen too much as a reporter, on both sides of the camera, to really care about that anymore. It was the integrity of her character, the way she tried to do right by everyone, whether they deserved it or not. It was the way she’d clung to Chance in that avalanche, even when letting him go might have been safer for her. It was the way she challenged Peter at every turn, made him rethink his assumptions about everything.
“What?” she asked, sounding concerned as she leaned toward him, put her hand over his.
“Peter!”
What terrible timing. Peter slowly swiveled in his chair to find his parents standing behind him, both holding takeout cups of coffee. His father was looking at Alanna curiously. His mother was smiling at him in a way that told him she’d totally misunderstood what was happening.
“Mom, Dad.” He stood, hugged them both and then gestured to Alanna, who was also standing. “This is Alanna.”
When Chance gave a short bark, attracting attention from nearby customers, Peter laughed and added, “And this big guy is Chance.”
The St. Bernard wagged his tail at the introduction and Peter’s mom scratched his ears as his dad shook Alanna’s hand.
“Do you live in Luna, Alanna?” his mom asked, giving him a quick grin she probably thought was subtle.
He wanted to laugh and roll his eyes at the same time. Getting him to move back to Luna was a dream she was unwilling to give up on, even now that he’d lived and worked in Desparre for a year.
“Actually, I live in Chicago.”
His mom’s brow furrowed, then she breathed, “You’re Alanna Morgan, aren’t you?” Before Alanna could answer, she looked at Peter with concern in her eyes. “This isn’t another story, is it?”
“No, Mom.” He shook his head at Alanna for emphasis, but she didn’t seem worried by the question, just uncomfortable that his mom had recognized her.
His mom seemed to realize it, too, because she smiled again and said, “Well, we’re just off to a movie. You two have a nice time.”
“Come by for dinner soon,” his dad said as they headed for the door.
“They’re nice,” Alanna said.
“They’re still upset I’ve moved to Desparre. They thought when I finally gave up being a reporter, I’d come home to Luna like my brothers and sister.”
She leaned toward him. “You’ve got siblings?”
Peter glanced at the front of the shop and saw his mom grinning back at him before she slipped out the door. He realized that she might have incorrectly thought this was a date, but in some ways, it felt like one.
“Three,” he replied, shifting his full attention back to Alanna, suddenly wishing they could both shake free of their past baggage, of their reasons for being here together right now. Wishing it was really a date. But he could pretend it was, if only for a few minutes, to buy time. “Two older brothers and one older sister. They’ve all got kids and they all live in Luna. My parents keep hoping I’ll follow their lead.”
Alanna smiled, sipping her coffee. “That’s nice.”
He shrugged. “It’s a nice idea.” But he’d always been restless, always wanted to get out and see the world, do something that got his blood moving, that made a difference. For five years, he’d done it as a reporter. Since he’d returned to Alaska, he’d discovered that being a police officer filled that need. He’d never been able to understand how the rest of his family didn’t have the same restlessness.
“You wouldn’t ever move back to Luna?”
“Probably not. Don’t get me wrong—I love my family. But it’s not like there are tons of opportunities in Luna. They’re lucky I got the police officer spot nearby.”
“Well, it’s close until Desparre gets a particularly bad snow and you can’t get over here for months,” she said, reminding him that she knew Desparre at least as well as he did.
“When I was a reporter, sometimes they wouldn’t see me for six months at a time.”
; “It’s got to be hard for them. First, you’re in war zones and now you’re a police officer, potentially under fire at any given moment.” She looked a little queasy at the idea.
“My grandparents moved here from Czechoslovakia—back when that’s what it was called. During the Czech uprising in 1968, when the Soviets sent in half a million tanks and troops, they fled. At first, they thought they’d stick around, be part of the protests. But they didn’t like living among so many tanks, the constant unspoken threat of violence. Ultimately they decided they had to get out—about three hundred thousand people there felt the same way. My grandparents said they came here because they just wanted to be left alone. I grew up hearing their stories and the stories they’d been told by their parents about what their country was like at the time of the Nazi invasion.”
Alanna nodded slowly, probably thrown by his change of topic. “I don’t blame them for wanting to live peacefully, quietly, after all of that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Peter said. His parents had wanted the same thing and so did his siblings. “But I always felt like it was in my blood to get out there and witness conflict. To record it for history and, hopefully, help prevent us from repeating it.” He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed by how naive he sounded.
She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “I understand that, too.”
She understood because in her own way, she’d chosen a similar path. They were both in professions to help others.
He smiled back at her, realizing how natural it felt to be sitting in this coffee shop with her, their hands stacked together. If this had been a date, if she was someone he’d met who lived in Desparre or Luna, he’d already be planning to ask her out again.
His smile faded. If she was right, if they found Darcy hiding in Luna, it would all be over. Alanna would return home and he’d never see her again.
Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 8