Page 38 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

T he room felt colder than it should’ve, like the walls had secrets and wanted her to hear them crack.

Amka sat stiffly in a hard-backed chair that was just slightly too low, her knees awkwardly angled. Her spine ached. Every muscle below her waist reminded her she’d barely slept last night—and exactly why.

Across the table, Jeb folded his hands. Paige didn’t sit. She stood, arms crossed, leaning against the filing cabinet. Amka couldn’t think of them officially since she’d gotten kind of used to them. First names was probably inappropriate, but who cared?

Christian wasn’t there.

Neither was Brock.

They’d been told to wait outside, and the fury on both their faces when she was escorted in without them had scared her more than the actual interview.

“Thanks for coming down voluntarily,” Jeb said, his voice doing that forced-politeness thing that made Amka’s back teeth ache.

Daisy, seated next to her with a legal pad and zero humor, didn’t respond. She’d even dressed like a fancy lawyer in a light green skirt and jacket set with gold jewelry, her thick hair up in a tight bun. “She’s here briefly. Keep that in mind.”

“We’re going to walk through a few things,” Paige said. “Officially, you’re not under arrest.”

Yet. The word wasn’t said, but Amka heard it anyway.

Jeb cleared his throat. “We don’t have autopsy results yet, but I saw Teller’s body, and he was shot in the head by close range. In that truck in your driveway.”

Amka’s stomach dropped.

“But that wasn’t the only trauma.” Jeb crossed his arms. “I observed lacerations and scratches on Teller’s arms and torso. Defensive wounds. From a fight, we believe.”

Amka’s mind blanked completely.

“We’re not saying it was you,” Paige said.

“We’re saying we haven’t ruled you out,” Jeb added, too casually.

“I didn’t scratch him. You all saw us in the bar. We argued, and I may have, um, punched him lightly in the stomach. That didn’t even slow his stride.” She swallowed and stopped talking when Daisy shifted her weight.

Paige took the seat next to her partner, her face softening and looking more at home with the smattering of freckles across her nose. Her red hair was down around her shoulders. “Let me help you, Amka. Did he attack you? Did you have to shoot him to defend yourself?”

Amka’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t shoot Jarod.” He had nearly attacked her a few times, but not the night of his death. “You already know that I spent the night with Christian.”

Jeb sadly shook his head. “We know that’s what you and your lover said. It’s possible you killed Jarod and went to Christian’s. He might be innocent, but if we charge you, he goes down too. He’ll never be an Alaska Wildlife Trooper, at best. At worst, he’s going to prison.”

Paige planted a hand over a manila file. Her nails were a pretty pink. It was an odd thing for Amka to notice. “I don’t think Christian would survive in a jail cell, do you?”

Amka slowly shook her head. Christian needed the outdoors.

Daisy held out a hand. “Stop trying to terrify my client. She didn’t kill Jarod and neither did Christian.

You’re fishing, and I’m getting bored.” She tapped her pen on her so far clean legal pad.

“Somebody has tried to kill my client three times. You know this. We believe it had something to do with Jarod’s life, maybe his many trips to Anchorage, and we’d truly appreciate it if you’d do your jobs and find out what. ”

Paige sighed heavily and looked at her partner as if at the end of her rope.

Jeb’s chin lowered, giving him the look of a pissed off Doberman.

“We have a couple of theories about that. First, what if Amka was setting the explosive and accelerant in the storage unit to catch Jarod there later? We noted that he often spent time at the bar, behind the bar, pouring drinks. Perhaps you got caught in your own trap?”

Amka couldn’t comprehend. “You think I nearly got myself blown up or burned up on purpose?”

“No. We think it was an accident. The fire wasn’t supposed to happen until later when Jarod was in the building.

” Paige nodded, her voice cajoling. “We’ve confirmed with Wyland and Sheldon that they wouldn’t have needed to enter the building for another week, which you knew because you know their restocking schedule. ”

Sure, she did. They owned a storage building together. “I did not set that fire.”

Daisy tilted her head. The heat was frizzing her hair a little, but she still appeared powerful. “Do you think Amka shot at herself somehow from a sniper’s position?”

Jeb slowly smiled. “No. We think that Jarod was going after some payback for the fire.”

This was freaking insane.

Daisy chuckled. “Wow. You two should write thrillers along with our tanker chief. This is ridiculous. So with your current theory, did Amka cut her own brakes? Or did Jarod cut them as another play in a weird game between them?”

“You catch on fast,” Paige said, her voice dripping with sarcasm now. “We’re not sure. Could go either way. Maybe Jarod cut the brakes and then a very furious Amka murdered him an hour later. Or perhaps she cut the brakes to give herself an alibi for the murder.”

Wow. Amka looked at Daisy. “I can’t even understand any of this.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “Me neither.”

Paige coughed into her hand. “Sorry about that. Spring allergies. Where is Jarod’s phone and laptop? We’ve been told he had both, and yet we can’t find either one.”

“I have no idea,” Amka said. If she did, she’d be erasing the video.

Daisy crossed her arms. “We’re about done with this questioning. You have more. What is it?”

What could it possibly be? There couldn’t be any more.

Jeb tapped the folder again. “Do you know about the life insurance policy Jarod took out two weeks ago?”

She stopped breathing. “What?”

Jeb nodded. “He listed you as the sole beneficiary. One million dollars, payable upon death.”

She stared at him. “What?” How in any world did that make sense? Jarod didn’t even like her. “You’re lying.”

Paige shook her head. “No, we’re not.” She pulled out a stapled stack of papers to hand to Daisy.

Daisy flipped through them. “Yep. One million.”

“I have no idea,” Amka whispered. The room tilted slightly. “He never told me.”

“Sure,” Paige muttered.

Daisy sat up straighter. “Are you implying that my client, who has a visible alibi for the night in question, had motive based on a policy she didn’t even know existed?”

“We’re saying everything’s on the table,” Jeb replied. “Jarod was killed. Amka stands to benefit. That’s motive.”

Amka gripped the edge of the chair. “No. He never even mentioned insurance.”

“You can deny it all you want,” Paige said. “But that policy was active. You’re the named recipient.”

Amka’s world tilted around her.

Daisy leaned forward, calm and cutting. “Out of curiosity, has anyone checked for life insurance policies on my client?”

Jeb raised an eyebrow. Paige didn’t move.

“Well?” Daisy pressed. “If you’re following the money, then follow it both ways.”

Paige exhaled and pulled out another stack of papers. “There’s a policy,” she said. “It was filed the same day with the beneficiary listed as Jarod Teller.”

“How much is the payout?” Daisy asked, her voice flat.

Paige hesitated. “One million.”

Amka’s body went cold.

That policy had never been mentioned. Never signed. Never discussed. She couldn’t imagine why he’d?—

Wait a minute. Why would he do that? Bile roiled around in her stomach.

Had Jarod planned to kill her for the money?

Had he been that evil? Why take out both policies?

Just to look innocent? He was a jerk, but she hadn’t imagined he was that cruel.

“He took it out without telling me,” she whispered.

“Sure, he did,” Paige said. “We have your signature on yours.”

“No you don’t. I never signed that.” Amka pulled Daisy’s notepad toward herself, reached for a pen, and signed her name three times. Then she pushed away from the table. “This is my signature. Feel free to compare them. I’m done.” She stood.

Jeb slid the notebook toward himself. “Signatures can be changed, but we’ll send this to the lab to compare. Might have to ask the FBI for help.”

Amka’s legs trembled. She had to get out of there. “Either arrest me or I’m leaving.”

Paige also stood. “In that case, you’re under the arrest for the murder of Jarod Teller. Put your hands behind your back.” She moved in with the handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent. The?—”

Amka wavered as the room morphed and Paige’s voice muffled into something unintelligible. Was she going to prison?

Two hours after being arrested, the metal chair bit into Amka’s thighs.

Cold, unrelenting. Her palms rested on her jeans, but her fingers wouldn’t stop twitching.

Across the table, the wheeled-in computer monitor crackled to life, cords looping down like snakes.

A grainy video feed showed Judge Bobb Kerrick in his cluttered office, half-buried in paperwork.

Fallon Price, the Anchorage ADA, leaned in from his square, the glow from his screen casting hard shadows across his face.

Daisy sat to Amka’s left, jaw set, one heel tapping steadily under the table. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d arrested Amka. Just squeezed her arm and told her to breathe.

The troopers had wanted to take her to Anchorage for processing, and Christian had lost his mind, with Brock not far behind him in the fury stage. Thank goodness Dutch had arrived and calmed everyone down. He’d processed Amka himself and then had set up an immediate virtual arraignment.

Amos, the weather guru who lived in the basement of the sheriff’s office, had managed to hook them all up so they could do this. Amka stared blankly at the squares in the computer monitor.