Page 32

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

FAIRBANKS, FIVE YEARS AGO

A bitter wind cut across the cemetery, carrying with it the first snow of the season.

Logan stood apart from the small gathering, his breath clouding in the October air as he watched from behind the shelter of an ancient spruce.

The mourners, no more than a dozen in total, huddled together against the cold as the minister spoke words that disappeared into the barren landscape.

From his position, Logan could see her clearly—Morgan Riley. Bobby’s sister.

It was the first time he’d seen her in person, and she was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She stood closest to the casket, her spine straight despite the visible weight of her grief. She wore no elaborate display of mourning—just a simple dark coat and a blue scarf that caught the wind occasionally.

Even from this distance, the resemblance to Bobby was striking. They both had the same stubborn set to the jaw. She had that same watchful intensity in her gaze.

Logan’s chest tightened.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have come at all.

But he’d made a promise to Bobby—a promise to protect Morgan.

He wasn’t sure how he planned on doing that. But coming to Bobby’s funeral in Alaska seemed like a good first step.

As the ceremony concluded and the small group began to disperse, Logan turned to leave. He’d seen what he came to see. He’d paid his respects from a distance, the only way he could.

“You’re not very good at hiding.”

The voice stopped him. Logan slowly pivoted.

Morgan stood ten feet away, her eyes red-rimmed but dry, her gaze appraising and direct. His throat turned into a desert.

“I wasn’t hiding.” The lie felt awkward on his tongue.

“Right.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “You just happened to be lurking behind a tree at my brother’s funeral.”

“Lurking is a strong word.”

She tilted her head. “How did you know my brother?”

“I’m with the Denver PD. I met your brother six months ago while I was working a case. Tried to convince him to stay away from the Brotherhood. He didn’t listen.”

“I see.”

“I made it a point to run into him. I always hoped he’d change his mind and get out. He didn’t.” The best lies were the ones closest to the truth.

Morgan continued to study his face, but she said nothing.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Logan finally said. “Bobby was . . .”

“Complicated,” she finished for him. “A constant work in progress.”

He didn’t argue with her.

Morgan’s eyes, the same warm brown as her brother’s, searched Logan’s face. “Did you come all the way to Alaska just for the funeral?”

He shrugged. “I know it probably sounds weird. I just . . . I don’t know. There was something about Bobby. I felt personally responsible for him.”

Morgan nodded as if she understood exactly. “Listen, there’s a gathering at my house in a couple of hours. Nothing formal. Just a few friends sharing memories.” She paused. “You should come.”

Logan looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

To his surprise, she stepped closer, pulling a small notebook from her coat pocket. She scribbled something, then tore out the page and handed it to him. An address. “If you change your mind . . .”

He held up the paper. “Thanks.”

She studied him a long moment, and Logan had the unsettling sensation of being photographed. Each of his details were noted and filed away by an artist’s eye.

“My gut tells me that Bobby trusted you,” she said finally. “That wasn’t something Bobby did easily.”

Logan swallowed hard. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I hope to see you later.”

With a final nod, Morgan turned and walked back toward the small group waiting by the cemetery entrance.

Logan watched her go, the paper with her address burning in his hand like an accusation.