Page 10 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

A fter a night with very little sleep, Christian moved quietly through the brush, the thaw-softened ground muting his steps as he followed a faint ridgeline above the creek.

Snow still clung in the shaded hollows, but most of the trail was open now.

He crouched near a broken spruce and ran gloved fingers along the gouges in the bark.

Not fresh. But recent enough. The spring had come late and messy, and that meant bears would be hungry, out early, and unpredictable.

He considered and quickly discarded the idea of leading a hunting party or two in the autumn, when the season opened. He didn’t want to have the wilds to himself, but sometimes he wanted the wilds left alone. Completely.

The air smelled of thawing spruce, wet moss, and distant musk.

The ground was soft and torn by fresh tracks.

Water trickled nearby, a slow melt through stone.

Wind moved through the trees, not loud but just enough to remind him how far he was from anything that talked.

The light was flat, gray, pushing through low clouds.

The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he partially turned, his shotgun cradled in the crook of his arm. He caught wind of the man before he strode between two fir trees.

Dutch Reddick squinted in the early light. “Mornin’, Christian.”

“Dutch.”

Dutch’s bushy eyebrows rose. “When did you catch my scent?”

“Not soon enough.” Not true. Christian would’ve had plenty of time to either shoot or take cover should Dutch have been an enemy. “You here on a job?”

“Always.” Dutch loped closer, his Alaska Wildlife Trooper badge scuffed on his olive green parka, matching in age and wear to his shoulder patch. “Been meaning to look you up for a while, since I heard you returned home.”

Christian noted the man favoring his left leg. “Why you limping?”

“Got shot a few months back. Poacher.” Dutch shrugged, the deep lines in his face showing more wear than his patch. “Took him down. Won’t poach again.”

The AWT members were almost mystical in the state of Alaska, and this one was legendary.

Rumor had it he was a ghost in the woods until he wanted to be seen.

Or heard. He’d been friends with Hank, and Christian had known him his entire life since Hank took the brothers in after the rest of their village had perished in an avalanche.

“You really Dutch?” Christian asked, surprising himself.

Dutch paused as well, running a hand through his grizzly gray hair. “I dunno. Probably not. My daddy might’ve been, but my mama was Inuit, like yours. Probably. Not that we ever figured out about you four. You ever consider doing a DNA test?”

“No.” They all looked alike, and Christian figured they were biologically all four related. “We’re brothers.” Period.

Dutch nodded. “Yeah, that’s what Hank said. I’m glad he finally gave you names. It was irritating as hell when he called you A, B, C, and D.”

Christian didn’t really remember that time. “Why are you here, Dutch?”

“I was lookin’ for you.” Dutch kicked an icy pinecone out of the way. “I’m getting old, Christian. Want to leave my territory to somebody who’ll take care of her.”

Christian barely kept himself from taking a step back. “Ask Ace.”

“Ace belongs in the sky, and you know it.” Dutch lowered his gray stubble covered chin. “Brock’s keeping the town safe as sheriff, and who knows where Damian is right now.”

So Dutch wasn’t in the loop. “Damian was honorably discharged and has taken over as the head of security for EVE.”

“No shit?” Dutch scratched his neck. “That can’t be good. What is he doing? You sure he was discharged? The guy worked in intelligence, you know.”

“I know.” Christian had yet to decide what to do about Damian. He’d gotten Brock all settled in, and right now, Ace required more of his attention. Well, when he wasn’t saving Amka from an arsonist. “That’s an issue for another day. Damian could take over for you.”

Dutch snorted. “Right. Like he’d give up his three-piece suits to scramble around in the brush. No. It’s you, Christian. Either that, or somebody from one of the cities, who won’t love this place like you do. Right now, the town needs cover.”

Christian’s chin lifted. “Meaning?”

“A possible killer in the mountains. Hank’s murder.

Flossy’s confession. The entire town covering for her so the prosecutor can’t charge anybody.

Anchorage is pissed, and while I get it, Knife’s Edge is under scrutiny now.

Especially since now we got someone setting buildings on fuckin’ fire.

You want an ally out in these mountains, and right now, I’m all you got. ”

“I’m not lookin’ for a job.”

“Why not?” Dutch took a granola bar out of his pocket and slowly unwrapped it. “You plannin’ on livin’ on your thrift pension plan forever? You weren’t in the Navy long enough to get a retirement pension, but rumor has it, you did your job well those twelve years.”

Christian didn’t want to talk about being a sniper. Ever. “You think I need money?”

Dutch took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “No, but you might wanna get married, and women like money. So do kids.”

Christian shook his head. “I ain’t ever getting married.”

Dutch ate half of the remaining bar and then swallowed. “Famous last words. Just because Hank never married doesn’t mean you won’t. You might fall for some sweet blonde gal who wants security.”

His type was not blonde. “You never married.”

“Who says?” Dutch finished the bar and shoved the wrapper in his pocket.

Christian stiffened. “You’re married?”

“Was. For ten years.”

Christian cocked his head. How had he never known that fact? That was huge.

Dutch sighed. “It was a good ten years. Cancer got her. There never was another one like her, so I didn’t do it again. But maybe you’ll find the one for you.”

“No.” He’d never looked twice at a woman for anything beyond a night—except Amka.

Not that they’d ever had a night, because if they did, he knew he’d never let her go.

That guy didn’t live in him. She was too kind, too soft, too feminine for a killer like him.

Even if she didn’t have a fiancé, which she did. “Not gonna happen.”

“Well, then? I guess the reason you take the job is to protect Knife’s Edge.

It’s up to you, C.” Dutch glanced down at a series of deer tracks.

“Besides, Hank would want you to have purpose. You know that. He wouldn’t like you living on the mountain, away from people, just eating off the land and wandering around when you’re not looking for game.

You gotta protect your brothers and your town. Your home.”

Christian shifted his shoulders. Hank had always been big on purpose.

What was Christian’s? He’d needed to get his head on right after leaving the service, and he’d wandered the mountains enough to do that.

He hadn’t given much thought to employment, but being an elusive AWT fit better than anything else. “Are you offering me a job?”

Dutch cracked his neck. “Close enough. You missed the application deadline for the fall session of the Alaska Law Enforcement Training, but I can get that waived once you fill out the public safety written test. Then you can shadow me, work as a consultant, until you have to attend ALET in the fall. The training is for only sixteen weeks, and you’ll ace it all, Christian. But you gotta do it to wear the badge.”

Great. More training. “When?”

“Mid-July to September. It’s worth it. Then I can turn the territory over to you.” Dutch rolled his shoulders. “I’m eighty-two. The cold digs deep into my bones these days, and I’d like to retire on a beach somewhere. One with sun and not wind.”

Christian narrowed his gaze. “Bullshit.”

Dutch grinned, wide and unapologetic, flashing the gap beside his right molars.

“All right, maybe not. But it’d sure be nice to work with you until I can’t move any longer.

I really could use some help. Starting with the recent explosion in Knife’s Edge.

The state sent me in, and there are Alaska state troopers on the way as well.

I don’t want to piss off Brock, but I don’t have a choice.

Sure could use another set of eyes, especially if they see a lot better than my old ones do. ”

The explosion and fire that had almost harmed Amka. “I would like to investigate that with you. The note sent with the lighter fluid promised more fires or attacks.” Christian intended to be involved. He noted the sound of birds in the distance. Maybe eagles.

“Great. I’ve got that and the dead body your brother found that disappeared in December. We still got nothin’ on that one.” Dutch lifted his head as if also looking for the birds.

Ah. The body. Brock and Ophelia had found a dead male, probably in his fifties, wearing a sweatshirt with EVE embroidered on it.

His eyes had been brutally scratched out.

Then the body had disappeared, and the folks at EVE had no clue as to the identity of the victim.

“Brock is still trying to figure that one out as well.”

“The FBI agent in town. Is she gonna be a nuisance?”

Christian smiled. Slowly. “Probably.”

“Huh. Why is she still here, anyway? The office in Anchorage told me to liaise with her, whatever the hell that means. I know the body was found on federal land, but still, shouldn’t she be gone by now?”

“You haven’t heard.” Christian shook his head. “She’s with Brock. In for the long haul.”

Now both of Dutch’s eyebrows rose. Bushy and full. “No kidding? I always figured Ace would be the first to fall.”

“Oh, he’s fallin’ lately,” Christian muttered. “Drinkin’ too much. I’ve given him enough time to get his head on right.” There were probably two people outside of his brothers that he’d share such information with, and Dutch was one of them. Maybe the only one.

“I saw him in January and he seemed okay,” Dutch noted.

Christian had thought so, too. “Yeah, he got his act together for a couple months, but the closer we got to spring season and decent flying weather, the more he started drinking again.” Ace had crashed an F/A-18 Super Hornet before being honorably discharged, and he hadn’t been up in the air since.

Hadn’t even flown commercial to get home.

Dutch turned his head and coughed several times, the sound wet.

Christian studied him. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just old.”

“Where are you staying in town? Flossy’s B&B has to be full up.”

Dutch wiped off his mouth with the back of his gnarled hand.

“I thought I’d hit up Brock since he built that nice cabin, but not if he has a female there.

Even if she is FBI, I don’t want to be around a couple of lovebirds.

Makes me lonely.” He brightened. “Amka will take pity on me and let me stay in the room at the tavern. That way I’ll get fed while I’m here. ”

Christian shook his head. Amka had a back room where drunks often slept it off. He’d slept there a few times during the years, in fact. Best sleep of his life. The entire room smelled like her. “You’re a smart one, Dutch.”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve stayed with her before, and it’s the best. For now, you takin’ the job?”

Christian studied the man he’d known his entire life. “I guess I am.”

Dutch held out a hand and they shook. Hard. “Good. Because it’s not one murder and missing body up in the mountains.”

Caution whispered through Christian. “Excuse me?”

“Yep. We’ve got at least three murdered victims with their eyes removed, and we can’t identify even one of them.”

Well, shit.