by Sharon Dunn
The dogs at first seemed confused. There were fallen logs and snow bumps to navigate over and around. Several times, Natasha grabbed the sled so it wouldn’t topple.
A sideways glance revealed only a limited picture of the ridge and the hill leading down toward them. She tensed when she thought she heard the sound of a snowmobile. The sound died out quickly.
The trees grew farther apart. She could see the lights of the village once again. The makeshift path led them in a wide arc. They had only to cross several hundred yards out in the open before they would be at the edge of town and protected by the shelter of the buildings.
Landon brought the dogs to a halt while they were still hidden in the trees. “This will be the most dangerous part. It looks pretty smooth. I say we get on and make a run for it.”
Natasha felt her blood run cold as she stared out at the stretch of flat land that led to the village. The hitman would probably be waiting for them to emerge from the shelter of the trees. She reached out and petted the husky closest to the sled. Landon stroked the head of the lead dog. They were risking the safety of the dogs, as well. “What if we left them behind and came back for them with something we could load them into?”
“It bothers me, too,” Landon said. “I don’t think we could run fast enough to avoid being hit. We have a chance on the sled.”
She knew he was right. Even if they made it, she wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself if something happened to even one of the dogs. She got onboard. Landon’s voice sounded behind her as he mounted up, as well. “Stay as low as you can.”
“I know.”
He eased forward, going slow at first through the last of the trees.
Natasha kept her eyes on the path into town. And then she looked up at the hill where the shooter was probably hiding behind a rock or a snowdrift. There were a few dark spots on the landscape, which could be rocks or brush, but nothing moved. Still, they had to assume they were still in the hitman’s sights.
Landon commanded the dogs to go faster. They sped up, racing out into the open. Natasha crouched low in the sled and braced for a bullet to come at them.
SIXTEEN
Aware of how exposed they were for the next few minutes, Landon opted to move as fast as possible while steering the sled in an erratic curving pattern to make them harder to hit.
The dogs seemed to increase their speed as they got closer to the outskirts of town. Landon heard the boom of a shot being fired and crouched, still trying to keep control of the sled. His heart raced. The dogs stuttered and slowed. He feared the worst, but they recovered quickly and pushed the final stretch toward a cabin with a sign out front that said Last Stop Café.
As they entered the city limits, Landon glanced at the hill from where the shots had been fired. He saw a dark spot moving up the hill. The shooter was probably going back to where he’d parked the snowmobile. Landon speculated that he would come into town to try to get at Natasha.
They passed another business with a truck and several snowmobiles parked outside. Once the shooter came into town, he’d be impossible to tell from anyone else. Though he knew the build of the hitman, Landon had never really gotten a good look at his face.
They had to get out of this village as quickly as possible. Mitch had said the roads were passable by car, but that a plane would be faster. The town’s main street was about five blocks in length with mostly residential houses on either side. He checked his GPS for the location of where they were supposed to deliver the dogs. When they arrived at the house, he could see the landing strip on the outskirts of town. Several planes were parked there. They needed to find out when the next plane was leaving.
There was a truck parked outside the house and Landon noticed there were three windows on either side of the enclosed truck bed. Each window probably fronted an individual crate for a sled dog.
An older man stared at them through the window of the house and then came out to greet them. “You made it.” He bent over to pet the lead dog and then he touched each dog on the head.
“They did really good. Amazing animals.” Landon felt his heart swell with gratitude for the dogs and that they had all made it unscathed.
“That, they are,” the old man said. “You folks can come in for some hot tea if you like. Wife made some blueberry muffins.”
“I wish we could.” Natasha had gotten off the sled and now stood beside Landon.
“Do you know when the next plane leaves here?”
The old man straightened. “This isn’t LAX, son. They’re not on a schedule. The pilots tend to hang out at the Last Stop Café until they have enough passengers to justify flying out or a passenger willing to pay enough to make the run worth their while.”
Landon shook his head. “Of course that’s how it works.”
The old man pointed to one of the two planes. “That guy brings in supplies and people pretty regular. I think he’s waiting on some hunters he needs to transport.”
“What is his name?”
“LeRoy O’Conner. Usually wears a bomber jacket and blue scarf.”
Natasha and Landon said goodbye to the dogs and headed back toward the main street. When they were about a block away, Landon turned and continued walking through the residential area. “I think we’re more of a target on Main Street. Let’s take the back way to the café.”
Though there were not many people outside, lights glowed from the houses. They even saw the occasional glow of a television set.
“I hope we can get out of here fast,” Natasha said.
“Me, too.” As they got closer to the café, he saw trailers behind it that probably served as hotel rooms.
Natasha kept pace with him as they walked along the side of the Last Stop Café. There were two more snowmobiles parked out front than there had been when they’d entered town. As he opened the door to the café, Landon was aware that the hitman might already be the cafe.
A momentary hush settled around them as they entered. All eyes were on them and then normal activity resumed. There were four men in the corner, playing cards, and two sitting at the bar, eating. Two other people sat at tables by themselves. One man had his back to the room, only a cup of coffee on his table. The other, a teenager reading a book, took the occasional bite from a stack of pancakes. The only woman in the place was the cook who was frying bacon and sausage on the grill.
Landon didn’t see anyone matching the description of the man who was the most likely candidate for flying them out of there.
The cook, who must also be the only waitress, left her grill after loading up a couple of plates. She took them to the men playing cards, wiped her hands on her apron and then looked at Landon and Natasha. “What can I get you folks?”
“We’re looking for a man named LeRoy O’Conner.”
“I think he went to get some shut-eye.” She turned slightly to look at the clock mounted in the kitchen. “He’ll probably be up in a bit, if you want to wait around for him. I know he is hoping to take off today. I can get you folks something to eat while you wait.”
Landon wasn’t crazy about staying out in the open like this. Though the man after Natasha was unlikely to come in a take her out with witnesses, it seemed like either moving around or staying hidden would be the better choice.
Natasha squeezed his biceps. “We can’t afford to miss LeRoy and have him take off without us.”
Landon glanced around again. He was hungry. The food they’d eaten midway through their journey had been used up. He picked a table that was not by a window and more in the corner of the room, by the restroom. He chose the chair that gave him a constant view of the café and the door. Natasha settled into the chair beside his.
The man with his back to the room had turned slightly when they’d entered but had not looked directly at them. His behavior was a bit off-putting. It was possible that he was just antisocial. Plenty
of people that lived in these remote places could be that way. Still, it was as if he didn’t want people to see his face.
Landon had not seen the hitman’s face, and this guy had a different build. A thought rushed through his head. He also had not gotten a good look at the plane that had brought the assassin into Mitch’s village. It was possible, then, that the second plane out on the runway might belong to the shooter’s pilot. Landon had no idea when or if the fog had lifted, but it wouldn’t have been a long flight to get here. There had also been significant cloud cover, so it was possible they could have missed the plane or it had taken a route that hadn’t passed over them. So, while the hitman had been trailing them on a snowmobile, the pilot could be waiting in this town.
The waitress/cook brought them each a menu. “Lot of the stuff is canned, sorry about that. I do try to be creative, but the eggs are fresh, not powdered.”
“Thank you.” Landon glanced down at the menu.
The woman walked away.
Natasha leaned close to whisper in Landon’s ear. “That guy in the corner of the room with his back to us makes me nervous. The way he’s acting is a little weird. Who doesn’t at least make eye contact with other people when they enter a room? Everyone else stared at us for five seconds.”
“Me, too,” Landon said. “Do you think he might be the pilot who transported the hitman?”
Natasha shook her head and spoke under her breath. “Could be. We never saw the guy.” She drew her attention to the menu. “What looks good to you?”
“I think you can’t go wrong with bacon and eggs and pancakes.” He cut his gaze again toward the man sitting with his back to everyone.
“The cook should bring that out pretty fast. We need to be ready to go if LeRoy shows up.”
A roar of laughter came from the table where the four men were playing cards. The sudden noise made Landon tense.
Natasha placed her palm on her chest and leaned a little closer to Landon. “That about gave me a heart attack, too.”
The waitress/cook came and took their order.
“I just hope this LeRoy guy shows up like the waitress said he would,” Natasha said.
“If he’s not here by the time we finish eating, I say we knock on his door and wake him. I know it’s rude and we won’t exactly be getting off on the right foot.”
As the woman set two glasses of orange juice in front of them, Landon tilted his head and asked, “Do you know that man sitting over there by himself, not looking at anyone.”
The waitress/cook straightened. “Yeah. He lives just up the street. Comes every day. I’ve gotten a couple of words out of him. My guess is PTSD issues. It’s probably a challenge for him to even come here. Bless the poor man.”
The woman walked away.
“So that blows that theory,” Landon said, pulling his phone out. He had a signal. “I’m going to call Mitch. We know what happened to the hitman, but we still don’t know about the pilot.” Landon pressed his friend’s number.
Mitch picked up on the second ring. “Hey, you guys made it?”
“Sort of. We still have to get a flight out. We were followed. Is anyone missing a snowmobile?”
“Yes, actually,” Mitch said.
“And what about the pilot? Is he still there?”
“He took off as soon as the fog lifted. He must have been watching the plane, waiting for his chance when we didn’t have someone patrolling the dock.”
So one of the planes on the tarmac could belong to the hitman’s pilot.
Landon looked up as the waitress/cook carried two plates toward their table. “Don’t want to take up too much of your time. Wish our visit could have been longer.”
“Next time, my friend,” Mitch said.
“Thanks for your help.”
The woman set the plates down in front of them and walked away. After explaining to Natasha about the pilot, Landon dug into his eggs and munched on his bacon, still watching the room. Though the food was satisfying, his need to remain on high alert and the tension it created in his stomach meant that he really didn’t enjoy the flavors as much as he could have.
Two more men who did not match the description of the pilot, LeRoy O’Connor, came in and sat at the bar. Judging by the way they were dressed, they were probably snowmobilers, though it appeared they had walked here. The same number of snowmobiles was still outside.
Landon had scraped the last of his eggs off the plate and taken the final sip of orange juice when the door opened and a man wearing a bomber jacket and blue scarf stepped in.
Both of them rose. While Landon pulled his wallet out and put a twenty on the table, Natasha scooted her chair back and walked over to the man they presumed was LeRoy O’Conner.
Landon listened to Natasha’s hushed voice explain their situation as LeRoy walked toward them.
“I got room for three more,” LeRoy said. “If you’ll help me load the cargo, I’ll take some off of the price of your fare. We’ll take off as soon as I get something to eat. In about twenty minutes, be at the plane, ready to go.”
More waiting, Landon thought. “Where exactly are you set to land?”
“Got a stop at Wasilla and then on to Anchorage,” LeRoy told them.
“We’d like to go all the way to Anchorage,” Landon said.
After LeRoy walked up to the counter to put in a food order, Landon looked around to see if there was a rear exit door they could use but didn’t see one. It was probably off a back room via the kitchen. As they stepped outside through the front door, he was aware of all the places a man could hide with a rifle. The building across the street was two stories high. There was an incline where trees could hide a man behind the street.
Landon ushered Natasha back toward the residential houses.
“Twenty minutes feels like an eternity,” she said.
“I don’t want to be sitting out there on the tarmac. We might as well put a Shoot Me sign around our necks.”
“Guess we just walk slow,” she said. “And try not to call attention to ourselves.”
Despite the chill, they were both dressed in clothes that kept them warm.
They walked past a house where five children played in the yard making snow angels and building a snowman. A woman holding a coffee cup stood on the porch, watching them. As the late-in-the-day sun came up, the little town seemed to be waking, too.
Landon wove through the neighborhood that only extended three blocks. They walked, their boots clumping on the snow-packed ground that served as a sidewalk. He found himself wanting to hold Natasha’s hand but realized that such a gesture would be wrong. The kiss, however wonderful, had been out of line. They both knew that.
They passed a house where the owner had gone all out with the Christmas decorations, which still had a warm glow in the morning light. Was it really December 24? Ever since all of this had started with Natasha, his life had taken on a surreal quality. Though work as a trooper did have exciting moments, he felt like he’d been pulled from his dull life into something much more engaging. Knowing that his one job right now was to protect Natasha until she could step into her new life gave him a renewed sense of purpose.
The one thing that had changed for the good was that the numbness he’d felt since Maggie’s death seemed to have lifted. Was it the threat of death that made him feel so alive or being close to Natasha?
They came to the final house on the street, which opened up to the tarmac and runway. No one was around. Landon shrank back, looking for a hiding place that would provide them a view of the tarmac so they would know when LeRoy and his other passengers showed up.
“Over there.” Natasha pointed to a little shack on the edge of the tarmac that may have at one time been a coffee take-out hut but now looked abandoned.
They walked the short distance to it. The door was unlocked.
“This looks like it’s the airport waiting room and a defunct coffee hut,” Landon said.
They stepped inside. There were three battered folding chairs. They took their seats, which gave them a view of the tarmac through the drive-through order window. Shortly after they sat, a truck pulled up beside one of the airplanes. The bed of the truck was covered in a tarp.
“That must be the cargo LeRoy referenced,” Natasha said.
The driver turned off the truck and waited in the cab. A few minutes later, three people emerged from the direction of Main Street and came to stand by the airplane and truck.
Landon scanned the area all around the tarmac. There were several trucks at the far end that he guessed were used for refueling the planes. Other than that, the area was open. “I wonder what’s keeping LeRoy.”
“Remember what the old dog musher said. This isn’t LAX. I think LeRoy shows up when he is good and ready.” She laughed a little. “You have to admit. That was a funny thing to say. You being an Alaska native should know how things run in these remote locations.”
He laughed, too. And shook his head. “So, it was a little presumptuous of me to think things run on a schedule.”
She leaned against him, so their shoulders were touching. Even through the thickness of their winter clothes, her being so close brought back the memory of the kiss they’d shared.
Movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. He turned his head. His heart skipped up a notch until he saw that it was LeRoy emerging from one of the side streets and headed straight toward the plane.
“Guess we better get out there and earn our keep,” Landon said.
They stood and stepped out onto the snow-covered tarmac. The truck driver had jumped out and pulled back the tarp on the truck bed. The cargo, mostly wooden statues carved with a chainsaw, also included some smaller wrapped packages. LeRoy opened the cargo bay underneath the plane. It looked to Landon like some light building materials were already taking up some of the space. Materials, most likely, for delivery to some other small, isolated town.
