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While Bear worked on restoring order—one of the Chilkoot crew was going at it with a farmer who’d done some work for him—Lila held down the bar. Several customers sat with elbows propped behind them on the bar, taking in the show. A few paid no attention at all; fistfights breaking out wasn’t a rare thing.

At one end of the bar, a stranger sat watching the action with an expression of bemusement. He hadn’t been served yet, so at the earliest opportunity she went to take his order.

“I was actually here for an interview, but this is a lot more entertaining,” he said with a smile.

Lila gave him another look. He wore a blazer over a button-down shirt—not the kind of outfit you usually saw around here. A messenger bag was slung across his chest, and she noticed empty earring holes in one ear. Had he taken off his ear jewelry to apply for a job in the wild west of Alaska?

“Are you here for the line cook job?”

“That’s the one. I’ve been working at restaurants for the past six years. I left a resumé the last time I came in here.”

“Right. Bear told me about it. He must have forgotten you have an interview.”

“I can come back sometime when there isn’t a brawl.”

She smiled, enjoying his wry sense of humor. He seemed pleasant enough, though she didn’t pick up much of anything from him on an intuitive level. Her first impression was “professional” and “easygoing.”

“It won’t take Bear long to sort this out. If you want to wait, I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Sure.” He ordered a beer on tap. As she went to draw it for him, someone else came through the door.

Officer Cromwell. The man frowned as he surveyed the scene, then shook his head in disgust. “What is wrong with this place,” he grumbled to Lila after skirting the knot of angry customers flailing at each other. “Bunch of animals out here.”

Lila felt a surge of dislike for this contemptuous man. Not long ago—in fact, a matter of minutes ago—she’d wanted to call him and tell him everything she’d discovered. Now that he was right in front of her, she wasn’t so sure. “Hello, Officer Cromwell. Are you here with good news, like an arrest in the Rita Casey case?”

The color is his face deepened. “I’ll take a Scotch, Blondie.”

“I’m in the middle of helping someone else. And I thought you didn’t drink on the job. Also, my hair is white, not blond.”

“I’m not here in my official capacity, so go ahead and pour, Missy.”

She wasn’t sure “Missy” was much better than “Blondie,” but she let it slide.

“I don’t know who you’re pouring that beer for, ain’t no one here,” he added.

She glanced toward the end of the bar, where the cook had been, and saw that Cromwell was right. The applicant had left. Maybe he decided to try another time after all. Or maybe he’d given up on The Fang completely. She wouldn’t blame him. It wasn’t for everyone.

“Want a beer?” She offered it to Cromwell, who waved it off.

“I’ll take that Scotch, if you don’t mind.”

“Slide it this way,” said Pinky, raising his hand from several barstools down. “It’s my favorite brand. Free.” He winked at Lila as she slid the tankard toward him. She poured out a shot of Scotch for Cromwell and set it before him.

“Your boyfriend has his work cut out for him with this lot.”

She didn’t correct him on the “boyfriend” part, even though he said it with an edge clearly meant to be demeaning. “If you’re not here on business, what’s going on? It’s a long drive for a shot of Scotch. I’m actually surprised the road was still passable.”

“It won’t be for long. Last chance to get out, Blo—Missy. I’m here doing a little hunting before the season ends.”

Lila fought with herself for a moment, then decided she should give Cromwell the benefit of the doubt. “I’m actually glad you’re here, because I discovered something that might be helpful for the case.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Playing detective?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I just happened to stumble across this particular piece of information. Maybe you know it already. Did you know that Rita Casey was the fiancee of the true crime podcast guy behind the Snow River Murders podcast? Jim Sutcliff. Sadly, he’s dead. But it might explain why she was in Alaska, and specifically why she was at Snow River.”

It seemed to take him a moment to put all those pieces together. Then his expression shifted, and the skin of his cheeks went ruddy.

“Is Bear still poking around in this case? You both need to stop. Especially him.” He jerked his head to indicate Bear, who had now managed to separate the two brawling men and held them firmly apart from each other. “He could ruin the whole case and he knows it.”

She held Cromwell’s gaze, refusing to take the bait. Whatever his issue was with Bear, she was on Bear’s side. No questions asked.

His color deepened. He probably expected her to beg him for details. But she refused to play his game.

Unfortunately, her silence just goaded him on. “You should ask why he was forced to leave the police force in Bethel.”

She turned away from him. Putting the bottle of Cutty Sark back on the shelf behind the bar was more important than listening to his crap. But that just made him more angry.

“Ask him about how he had to step down in disgrace. Why he’ll never get another job in law enforcement in this state.”

“Stop it.” She slid the bottle back into place and covered her ears. A childish gesture, to be sure, but maybe it would make him stop.

It did not. It also didn’t block his nasty voice.

“Make him tell you why he had to run all the way here to the middle of the wilderness just to find a job. Your big strong man over there has a pile of secrets he’s not telling you. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t get herself into a situation where she’s teaming up with a rogue cop who got kicked off the force.”

She whirled on him. “Get out of here. You’re not welcome in this bar. If you’re not here on official business, then just go.”

Out on the floor, Bear’s head snapped to look her way. He still had a hand on Bennie Thomas’ shoulder, still dealing with their feud. She knew that Bear had secrets. That wasn’t news. But somehow the idea that this sneering police officer knew things about Bear that she didn’t…it galled her. For the first time since she’d met Bear, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Just get out,” she repeated in a low voice to the cop.

“I’m going. I made my point. ” He drained his shot of whisky and pushed the glass across the bar top at her. She caught it before it reached the edge and shattered on the floor. “Keep out of this. For your own good.”