Under the Alaskan Ice

by Karen Harper

  He picked up the picture and looked at it closely, tilting it toward the window. He snapped on a lamp, handed the photograph to Bryce, then went down a hall, where they heard him open a door.

  Meg looked around Bryce’s shoulder at an amazingly beautiful blonde woman with a not as good-looking man. They were both dressed formally, maybe for a special occasion. It was a posed photo, her back to his chest, both smiling. Meg could see no resemblance to the sketch of the dead man, but Rina could look like her mother. She didn’t necessarily have to look like either of them.

  Besides, the window light made a bright square on the glass so she couldn’t quite see all of it, so she reached out to tip it a bit.

  “Oh, there’s an inscription in the bottom right corner,” she said.

  “Yeah, hard to read. ‘Daddy, glad we’re working together again,’” Bryce said. He quickly flipped it over and lifted the guards that held the photo in the frame. Turning away, perhaps in case Rencie came back into the room, he lifted the eight-by-ten-inch photo away from the glass and looked at the back of it.

  Meg gasped as he swore under his breath. There was more writing there which read, I’m not in mourning but rejoicing. Love, from your modern-day Varina.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rencie shuffled back into the living room, his head down as he read an address aloud from a piece of paper. Bryce had quickly reassembled the photo in its frame and set it back on the side table.

  “Found it in a top drawer,” Rencie said, still sounding hoarse as if he would cry. “Right by a necklace I used to see his wife wear.”

  Meg saw Bryce’s head jerk up. “Maybe some antique jewelry?” he asked.

  “Naw. I’m no expert, but pink plastic stuff. She liked all things bright-colored. Round here, I can guess why. Darn long winters.” He extended the paper to Bryce, who frowned down at it.

  “Rencie, did Rina ever go by any other name?” Meg asked, unable to stop thinking about the note on the back of the photo.

  “I believe Rina was short for Varina,” Rencie replied. “Didn’t much suit her though. Probably why she went by Rina. Her mother had been a bit of a history buff. She liked older names, stuff like that.”

  Meg and Bryce exchanged a look. A history buff in the family? Maybe one who passed down an interest in Confederate treasure?

  Studying the paper again, Bryce asked, “Do you know where Sylvania, Ohio, is, Rencie?”

  “Nope. Bet you’ll find out.”

  “You’ve been a big help,” Bryce told him and shook his hand. “We’ll see that Rina Galsworth—Mrs. Todd Galsworth, it says here—is informed of her father’s death.”

  “If she inherits the mill and this place, hope she sells it to someone who wants it. No way me and my Mrs. could afford it.”

  “I understand. I’ll put in a good word for you and how well the mill seems to be run.”

  They all went out, and Rencie locked the door behind them. Meg wondered if the next people inside would be Rina Galsworth and her husband, Todd, or state troopers and Bryce with a search warrant.

  * * *

  When Bryce and Meg had driven almost to the main road, they had to back up to allow an empty logging truck to pass them as it came in. The snow had finally stopped. Instead of driving on, to her surprise, Bryce turned off the engine.

  “What?” she asked, clutching the paper Rencie had given them.

  “I’ve got to call the Big Man with the update. I don’t know if he’ll want me to go to Ohio in person or send someone else.”

  “And order a search warrant for Witlow’s house and maybe his office at the mill?”

  Bryce turned toward her and cupped her chin in his hand. “Exactly. If you’re reading my thoughts now, I’m in trouble. But yes, Rina has to be told. Hopefully, she’ll come here even if she still hates the area—at the very least for a funeral and especially if she’s inherited Lloyd’s properties.” He stroked her cheek with one finger, then dropped his hand to pull his phone from his jacket pocket.

  “If you want to make a call,” she said, “I wonder if the cell tower will work way out here. That office looked like one from the last century, but that may just have been because they never changed.”

  He tapped his phone on. “Yep,” he said. “It’s going to work. Close enough to Wasilla, I guess, because it says that’s where we are.” But instead of making a call, he asked the phone, “Where is Sylvania, Ohio?”

  The crisp female voice answered, “Sylvania, Ohio, is a suburb of Toledo, Ohio, and is situated almost on the Michigan-Ohio state line.”

  “See if Todd Galsworth has a website,” she prompted, “because it’s scribbled here that he owns an independent insurance company.”

  “You’re way ahead of me, boss,” he teased, putting his free hand on her knee. Despite her wool pants, it felt like a caress on her skin.

  A website came up with not only the photo of a smiling Todd—the same guy in the photo they had seen—but with a picture of the front facade of his office. It was a small storefront with prominent letters, TODD GALSWORTH—WORTH YOUR TRUST FOR ALL INSURANCE NEEDS. Bryce scrolled down to read text off the screen. Serving citizens of both Michigan and Ohio with trust and distinction.

  “Rina’s a looker, and he isn’t,” Bryce went on. “Maybe he’s charming or wealthy or both.”

  “Or he’s everything her father was not—though I feel bad for saying that since I didn’t know the man. But you know, Rencie said her mother loved bright colors...it makes me think about what she might have loved, or not loved. Maybe she just wasn’t happy here. You have to love and accept Alaska to be happy here—or have someone you love so much that there’s just no place else.”

  Their gazes met and held. “Very astute,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I would not have had that kind of intuition. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Then trust me enough to tell me what was in those two boxes that were sent to the Big Man. More jewelry or coins? Bryce, I want to help, but it is a risk. I suppose that’s classified information, but—”

  “Okay, but I’ll have to tell you-know-who that I’ve told you. Inside the boxes were some priceless historic letters and papers that will have to be restored, but mostly it was what was left of the Confederate States of America treasury at the end of the Civil War—bullion bars, coins, bills and a lot more jewelry Southern women had donated. Most of it wasn’t mourning jewelry but gold and gems. All that is worth a fortune and will make one hell of an exhibition in DC someday.”

  “And make someone’s already lofty career even bigger—like maybe running for a higher office, though I’ll bet there’s only one higher.”

  “I told you, don’t go there. Everything about the task force is classified, including the Big Man’s identity. I’ve promised never to reveal that. Meg, I want you to know—”

  Her phone music sounded. She could have thrown it through the car window. Because it could be something about Chip. “Hold that thought. It’s Suze,” she said, looking down at the number before she accepted the call. “Suze, we haven’t headed back yet. Is everything okay?”

  “There’s a woman who went to Mayor Purvis because he was quoted online about the plane crash. She’s insisting she see you. Meg,” she went on, lowering her voice, “the mayor’s with her, and Melissa McKee is back, wanting to make us a huge bid for Grandma’s old jewelry. Things are going nuts around here. Can you two come back right away?”

  “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Rina Galsworth, from the Midwest, flew into Anchorage today. She insists she’ll only talk to you—first, at least—because the mayor said you saw the crash. She’s not a reporter, but the pilot’s daughter. And there’s a lawyer here with her—it’s Mason Nowles.”

  “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Keep her away from Chip. Hold the fort—with Rafe’s help.”

 
“Rafe’s already corralled Chip. I feel a lot safer with him here, and he’s managed to turn a couple of reporters away. The mayor stepped outside to give them some sort of statement. When he’s inside, I swear he and Melissa are thick as thieves.”

  “As thieves—that’s a good one. See you soon.”

  * * *

  Bryce let Meg drive them back to the lodge while he quickly conferred with the Big Man. He soon had permission for a search-and-seal order on Lloyd Witlow’s home, though he figured it was going to tick off his daughter, who had chosen to investigate the circumstances and site of her dad’s death instead of going straight to his house. Meg had told him the mayor had even provided Rina with a local lawyer.

  He got permission for Meg as well to wear a wire while talking to the woman, and he’d stay in the background at first so as not to inhibit or panic her. They had to find out what backwoods contacts Witlow was delivering priceless historical goods to—and where those treasures had been all these years.

  When he finally ended the call, they were close to Falls Lake. “I feel like I’m losing control of this whole thing,” he admitted. “I try to take the next logical step—when I figure out what it is—and then find out I’m one step behind. We’re standing there at the mill to announce the pilot’s death when they get a call announcing he’s dead. I’m headed to psych out the pilot’s daughter, and she comes demanding to see us—you, at least.”

  “But notice the common denominators,” she said as they turned onto the road toward the lodge. “The mayor has bought jewelry from Melissa McKee, who shows up again, wanting to see and buy our antique jewelry when we told her no before. Bill Getz is always lurking, though I can’t see someone like him being involved, unless the mayor’s hired him to spy on us. I think someone local like Melissa or the mayor could be involved. She’d be the perfect one to sell stolen jewelry, mixed in with non-stolen stuff like Suze’s and mine. Just call me Sherlock, but if I’m going to wear a wire, we have to sneak in the back door to your room first to get it, right?”

  “Just call me Dr. Watson if you want to go by Sherlock. I packed one wire in my duffel since I didn’t know if I’d need it at the mill. Stop the truck while I reach behind and dig it out. It’s gonna have to go in your bra. I’ll be in my room at the lodge listening, so stall a little when you go in so I can get set up.”

  “All right. As long as you’re there close.”

  “As close as I can be,” he said, unfastening his seat belt and reaching in the narrow back seat of the truck to unzip his duffel bag while she pulled over on the side of the road.

  “Bryce, Rina has her lawyer with her. The lawyer’s name is Mason Nowles, and Suze used to date him. He’s a lot like his friend the mayor, pompous and pushy.”

  “Sorry about Suze. And just what we need, another blowhard barrier to getting all this solved.” He produced the wire for her to wear and held it up.

  “Oh. It really is a wire attached to a small receiver or microphone.”

  “We can change plans. Despite the Big Man, despite how desperate I am to get answers, I can’t ask you to do this. I’ve involved you too much in this. I can wear it. I’m sure, after she talks to you, she’ll want to talk to the man who dove the wreck and retrieved her father’s body.”

  “It sounds as if she’s doing her own detective work.”

  “Smart call by her—or her insurance-minded husband, or that lawyer. They probably didn’t want to fly their own lawyer here from Ohio so had the mayor suggest one.”

  “I wonder if she’s already been to view the body. But should I not mention that someone tried to hurt you and your crew—twice?”

  “I’d let her talk first, let her ask questions.”

  “Okay, I’ll do the same—first. I want to continue to help with this, and the lodge is a safe place. The bad stuff has all happened outside, where there are places to hide, including detonators being hidden under the ice. Let me try first, then if you can tell from listening in that things are going nowhere, or you think it’s time to step in to talk to her yourself...”

  “Meg, I don’t want you to think I’m using you. I care for you.”

  Bryce saw tears gild her eyes. “I want you in my life,” she said. “I want to help not only for you but because someone—more than one, maybe—is hurting people, maybe stealing a historic fortune. If someone planted a remote-controlled bomb on the sunken plane, they’re not amateurs or dummies. Maybe they rigged Lloyd Witlow’s plane so it would crash, and they could get their hands on the treasure. The plane could have gone down and crashed into the lodge. I’m in this for more reasons than ‘just’ you, Incident Commander Bryce Saylor!”

  He nodded. What a hell of a woman, and how far she’d come in so short a time. “Then open your jacket and your shirt, Assistant Incident Commander Metzler, and I promise I will only attach this wire right now,” he said, his voice husky.

  She loosened her seat belt and turned toward him, unzipping her jacket and unbuttoning her flannel shirt. She held the shirt apart. A black lace bra appeared, almost making him want to toss the wire and his restraint. Soon, he told himself. Soon, somewhere private and safe.

  He perched the tiny receiver between her firm breasts, running the wire down and along the lower edge of the bra. His fingers tingled. Burned.

  “Feel okay?” he asked, slightly adjusting its fit again.

  “Feels fine,” she said, then blushed from her cheeks down her throat.

  He thought of several things to say, teasing, sexy, but he forced himself to just nod. And to get his hands off of her so she could refasten her clothes.

  “It’s a bad time to say this the first time,” he rasped out, almost a whisper, “but I love you. Your courage, your sweetness, your—just you.”

  Love. Meg hadn’t been expecting it, but now that the word was out there, floating in the space between them, she couldn’t deny she felt it too. She was falling in love with this man, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to say it out loud. Not yet anyway. She nodded and threw her arms around him.

  “Careful! Don’t displace that. I promise I’ll find a good way to take it off you later.”

  She caressed his face with one hand, then turned away to refasten her seat belt. “Right back at you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Bryce, I swear that’s a TV station truck behind us. See that satellite dish on its roof?”

  He looked in the rearview mirror on his side, then craned around. “Damn. Glad they didn’t pass and then stop us when they saw the Falls Lake Lodge on the side of this truck. Keep going. Park at the far end of the building, and we’ll both go in that way. If they pull in too, I’ll bet the mayor can detain them while you get Rina Galsworth off somewhere private to talk. Just say you only want to talk to her first—try to stash her husband and that lawyer with Rafe or Suze.”

  “Not with Suze. She fell hard for Mason at first, then learned not trust him. I found out he was seeing someone else while he was stringing her along as his one-and-only.”

  “Bastard,” he muttered. “As if we need another suspect like a dishonest lawyer hanging around the lodge and this case. But then, if the mayor or Melissa are suspect, maybe he is too and we should keep an eye on him.”

  Hoping no one inside saw them, Meg pulled the truck into the last parking space at the far end of the building. They got out and hurried around the back, Bryce lugging his duffel bag. The far door was locked, though they used to keep it open in case their guests went in or out that way. But that was in the old days when people could be trusted.

  “Don’t ring the bell,” Bryce ordered. “I’m calling Rafe to let us in.”

  He pressed twice on his phone. When Rafe answered, Bryce said, “Meg and I are at the north door. Don’t let on, but come let us in.”

  “I don’t want to talk to the media,” she said, stomping snow off her boots again.

 
“Except to say, ‘No comment.’”

  Rafe swung the door open. “Chaos in here,” he told them. “At least the mayor’s gone out to talk to the media since Suze says they can’t come in. Man, that lawyer thinks he can order her around.”

  They both rushed in. “Thanks. If you can handle him, keep him away from her,” Meg told Rafe over her shoulder. “He’s not a trustworthy person, but then, who is lately?”

  She heard Rafe relock the door behind them. Bryce sprinted for his room. Stripping off her coat, hat and gloves, she forced herself to slow down and breathe, just breathe, as she walked the hall toward the common room. She tossed her things on the closest chair.

  “Mom!” Chip barreled at her with three barking dogs behind him. He hugged her hard around the waist while she clamped him to her, until she felt the wire against her chest and set him back a bit. All she needed was to get that disconnected.

  “Mom, there’s a lot of new people here from really far away,” he told her, at least now in a quiet voice.

  “It’s all right, hon. This is a welcoming place, and I’m glad to meet them. Take the dogs into your room for a while, okay?”

  “Yeah, but where’s Command—”

  She put two fingers over his mouth. “He had to rest for a little bit. I’m sure you’ll see him soon.”

  As Chip corralled the dogs, she steadied herself and went over to Suze, who was perched on her stool behind the desk. In the seating area by the fireplace, she saw Melissa McKee in intense conversation with Rina Galsworth. The two women bookended Rina’s husband, Todd, who wasn’t talking but seemed to be taking in their every word. About what?

  Suze said, “Glad you’re back. The mayor and our favorite lawyer are outside talking to some TV people. I’d hoped never to see Mason again. I only told Rafe I didn’t like the man, and it’s like he’s been guarding me.”