How quickly Walt had changed from a living, breathing person with a soul to nothing more than a source of evidence.
“Then you’re stuck here too?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Yep. Even if the snow lets up, the road isn’t safe, which means we can’t risk going through the pass.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I was hoping to leave tonight.”
“You and me both.”
She couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d gone back to Walt’s house. The only reason he’d even attempted her plan with the truck was because he wanted her safely out of the way before he put himself at risk. While she appreciated his concern, going back there had been dangerous. She’d already lost Walt; she couldn’t face the thought of losing someone else. Didn’t Shane realize how much he meant to the town? To her? Didn’t he realize how much the people counted on him? Needed him?
Feeling beleaguered, she didn’t hide the note of censure in her voice. “I’m still angry that you went back there. Alone. Especially after what happened.” Another thought occurred to her. “Does Graham suspect the dogs belong to Walt?”
“The kennels aren’t high on his list of priorities. Even if he bothered to check, I doubt he’d know the difference between Walt’s dogs and the resort dogs.”
“What about the highway?”
“Impassable. It’s a parking lot. Bunch of big rigs had to be abandoned. They’re still towing them out.”
Walt’s house would be freezing. Though she knew it was irrational, a part of her hated thinking of him all alone and cold.
She ducked her head against the sudden rush of tears.
Keeping her face averted, she perched on the edge of the gray love seat. The cushion depressed beside her and a comforting arm draped over her shoulder. Too drained to resist, she leaned into him, taking solace in his quiet reassurance. Shane’s parka was cool against her cheek, and her tears beaded and slid down the waterproof material like melting rain drops.
A feeling stirred inside her. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. With a pang of regret, she recognized it as longing.
Her few months with Shane had been some of the best in her life. Beneath the joy, however, a quiet sense of anxiety had infused their time together. She’d always kept her life neat and compact, never asking for too much. If she didn’t let people close to her, they’d never be disappointed. She’d never even told Walt her mistakes. Not about how she’d had to retake organic chemistry or how she’d had an anxiety attack during her first surgery.
None of that had insulated her from tragedy. Walt was gone.
She shifted her head to peer at Shane, and when his gaze connected with hers, she caught a flash of something raw. The look was gone so quickly she thought she must have imagined it. His eyes broke away first.
A fresh wave of grief crashed over her, and she sought to shut down her emotions. This time, though, the skill that had served her so well in the past deserted her.
She didn’t know how long they sat like that. Her quietly sobbing and Shane saying nothing. She was grateful for his silence. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think.
When there were no more tears to cry, Shane stood. A moment later a glass of water appeared before her.
She took a grateful swallow, then heaved a shaky breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Shane gestured toward her drawstring flannel pants in muted shades of pink and gray along with a matching, petal-pink Henley. “I see Graham found you some clothes. The color suits you.”
“Yeah.” She plucked at the fabric stretching over her knee. “From the spa.”
He was putting them back on neutral ground again, and for that she was grateful. He wouldn’t hold her temporary weakness against her. She’d hold it against herself.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I suppose.”
He took off his coat and they ordered room service from the menu provided. She decided on a fennel and arugula salad with a Pommery emulsion and grilled branzino. Whatever that meant.
Her eyes widened at the price. There was no way she was paying forty-two dollars for a salad with a slab of grilled fish!
Shane brushed away her concerns. “Don’t worry. It’s on the house.”
“Are you sure?”
“Graham owes me. It’s a long story.”
He didn’t elaborate. Come to think of it, he never elaborated when it came to the resort. She didn’t know much more about Shane than he knew about her. Whenever the conversation veered into personal territory, he changed the subject or said, “It’s a story for another time.”
Turned out, another time never came.
She knew his dad had owned the resort before he’d died of a heart attack almost two years ago. The rest she’d picked up from tidbits of gossip she’d tried to avoid but listened to anyway. There was something odd about how his stepbrother had come to own the property. Some said that Shane’s dad had cut Shane out of the will entirely. Others said he was left a share in the property that he sold to his stepbrother for one dollar. She didn’t believe either story, and she’d never asked Shane for clarification.
The difference between them was that Shane was curious, while she had been content to let sleeping dogs lie. Now that they were stranded together, she wondered if it might be time to turn the tables on him.
As she pondered Shane’s reaction if she were to use his third degree techniques on him, the food arrived on ornate silver platters. The minute the mouthwatering aromas reached her, Kara discovered she was famished.
She recognized the bellhop from town. His name was Colin or Kevin. She discreetly glanced at his name tag: Kevin.
When he discovered the food was for them, Kevin’s posture relaxed and a wide grin spread across his boyish face. “Hey, Officer Taylor, Doc. Didn’t expect to see you staying here.” His face turned a brilliant shade of red. “I mean...you know...since you have a house in town.”
There was no way anyone was going to mistake her as coming from the kind of money needed to vacation at the hot springs.
“I know,” she said, smiling to ease his embarrassment. “The storm trapped us on the wrong side of the pass.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “They told us. My manager said we’d get a per diem since we have to stay the night. I can use that. My brother and I are buying our ma a washer for Christmas.”
Shane glanced up from his phone. “The resort is closed over Christmas, right?”
“Yep.” Kevin rubbed his hands together. “Two whole weeks. I like the money, but I could use a break. Since this storm won’t let up, the guests are getting grumpy. No clear skies means no viewing the northern lights. They don’t tip as well when they’re grumpy.”
Kara did the mental calculations. Her birthday wasn’t that far off.
Kevin chatted about his family while he set up their lunches. “I better get going. The resort manager, Mark, keeps us on a tight watch. He’s always checking up on us on the security cameras. Gives me the creeps.”
When he’d gone, they ate in companionable silence. Shane had ordered a large T-bone steak with a side of fries. Graham must owe him big, considering what that must have cost.
When they finished, she moved to the love seat once more. He dragged a velvet upholstered barrel chair across the room and set it before her. She knew what was coming. He needed to solve Walt’s murder, which meant he needed to know everything that had happened. Though she thought she’d prepared herself, her stomach churned.
His face grave, Shane sank onto the seat and rested his elbows on his bent knees, his hands clasped. “I’m sorry about Walt. I know the two of you were close.”
Pressure built again behind her eyes. “Yes.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now.”
Her leg was feeling better and the food h
ad given her a burst of energy.
“No.” She vigorously shook her head. “I want to. I want to remember everything while the details are fresh. I don’t want to miss anything.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped at the screen. “I’m going to record this, if that’s all right. That way, neither of us forgets the details.”
“Okay.”
He pressed a button, and a red light showed on his phone.
“You worked with Walt in Denali State Park, right?” he asked. “That’s how you two met.”
“Yes.” Her memory flew back across the years. She’d been terrified and woefully inept in the beginning. Thankfully, both the dogs and Walt were patient with her. “We worked with the sled dogs. Walt was the one who encouraged me to apply to vet school.”
“I’m glad he did.” Shane’s expression brightened. “You’re a real asset to this community.”
Her cheeks heated. “To the animals, you mean.”
“Yes. To the animals. But I also mean to the town in general. In a community this small, everyone fills a purpose. You’re well-liked and respected around here.”
A spark of pride buoyed her spirits. Maybe because she’d moved so much as a kid, she’d never really considered any place she’d lived home. While working in Denali, she’d been focused on going to college. Once in college, she’d been focused on getting into vet school. After her graduation, she’d worked at the job Walt helped her get in Anchorage for two years, learning the ropes.
Throughout that time, she’d kept in touch with Walt. He wasn’t very good at writing, and he never used email, but he’d call occasionally.
Kara cleared her throat. “He called me about six months ago and said he’d retired and moved back to Kodiak Springs. He said the town needed a good vet.”
“I’m glad he called,” Shane said. “I didn’t know him well, but he sounds like a good man.”
“He was. The best.”
She’d been alone most of her life, but she’d never been lonely. Not until now.
Shane sobered. “Are you ready to talk about what happened when you arrived at the house?”
The blood rushed in her ears. Using a technique she’d learned in college to control anxiety, she mentally named five things in the room: lamp, chair, table, phone, rug. What had happened was in the past. This was the present.
“I’m ready,” she said with a fresh sense of resolve.
She went through the story again, analyzing each moment and grappling to remember even the smallest details. More than once, she slipped out of the present and doubts came at her like battering rams. What if the killer was looking for her and not Walt? What if she’d arrived sooner? What if...what if...what if...?
When the what ifs threatened to drown her, she focused on the room again: lamp, chair, table, phone, rug—repeating the mantra until her thoughts calmed.
When she finished, Shane said, “Can you think of any reason someone might want to murder Walt?”
She’d been racking her brain, but she still felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. “No. He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
Nick Amato was dead. Nick Amato’s parents were dead. His son had died of a drug overdose. He didn’t have a spouse. He didn’t have siblings. From what the marshals had told her, he was unmissed and unmourned. She was being paranoid. After fifteen years looking over her shoulder, she was conditioned for fear.
“Had Walt been acting strangely lately? Any visitors? Anything unusual?”
There was absolutely no reason to go after Walt when she was a much more vulnerable target. It didn’t make any sense.
“Nothing,” she said. “Walt was as steady as they come. He was all about routine. He ate the same thing every morning. He took care of the dogs. He read in the evenings.”
There’d been nothing of note in Walt’s or her life these past few weeks. No cars parked down the street. No odd calls. No indication that anyone was looking for her.
“Did Walt have any other relatives? Anyone we need to call?”
“Not that I know of,” she said. “He was an only child and he never had any kids. There might be some family in the lower forty-eight, but he’d lost track of them decades ago. Long before I ever knew him.” She snapped her fingers. “He mentioned seeing a lawyer in town. But I think it was personal. He’d said he’d known her since they were kids.”
They needed to rule out all the possibilities, didn’t they? She’d answer his questions first, then tell him about her past. Because once she did, there was no way he’d consider anything in Walt’s life as the cause of Walt’s murder.
Shane scribbled on a piece of paper. “The attorney is probably Eileen Turro. She’s lived here all her life and she’s the right age. I’ll get in touch with her.”
Kara splayed her hands. “Okay.”
The air seemed heavier and the room seemed smaller. Nick Amato was dead. There was no one left who cared about a rebellious kid from Florida.
An involuntary shiver raised the hairs on her arms.
Shane stood and reached for a chunky knit blanket draped over the back of the love seat, then extended it to her. “Here.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
He resumed his seat, taking the same stance—elbows on bent knees, hands clasped. Her scalp prickled. From now on, she’d think of that as his “interrogation posture.”
“I did some research on Walt.” Shane’s gaze didn’t waver.
Kara shrugged. “Probably wasn’t much to find. He lived a quiet life.”
Shane was leading her someplace specific. This was the time to come clean. To tell him first and avoid causing any further suspicion.
“Walt only had two jobs his entire life.” Shane forged ahead. “He spent the past twenty years working with the sled dogs at Denali State Park. Tracking down what he did before that was trickier.”
Her lungs constricted.
Shane had a slightly regretful air, as though he didn’t want to continue, but knew he had to. “Walt was a U.S. Marshal assigned to the Witness Security Program.”
Her mouth went dry. She desperately wanted to blurt out the truth, but the words refused to come. She’d kept her secret for so long, she didn’t know how to tell the truth anymore.
His voice lowered. “Doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots, Kara. You and Walt were always an unlikely pair. Unless, that is, you were placed together for a reason.” His pale blue eyes were steady and sincere. “You can trust me. Whatever you say here stays here, but I need to know the truth. For Walt’s sake.”
She swallowed over the lump in her throat. Once she admitted the truth, there was no going back. She’d have to live with the possibility, however improbable, that she’d caused Walt’s death. Though she knew it was irrational, she wanted to put off the possibility, if only for another moment. She’d have to contact the marshals either way. Still, if there’d been a threat, why hadn’t they contacted her? They were in the best position to know if she was in danger.
When he realized she wasn’t going to reply, Shane asked the question she’d been dreading for more than half her life. “Are you in witness protection?”
SIX
Shane kept his expression carefully neutral as the color drained from Kara’s face. Her head dropped to her chest and she clutched the knit blanket more tightly around her shoulders. He wanted to reach out to her. He held himself back.
The most valuable skill in law enforcement was patience.
She swallowed convulsively, her throat working. “Yes. No. Sort of.”
One of those answers he’d expected. He wasn’t certain what to do with the rest.
His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t follow.”
“You’re right. I’ve been in the program for almost fifteen years.”
“Wait.” Shane
ran the calculations through his head. “That’d make you...seventeen years old when you went in.”
“Eighteen. The age of majority is eighteen in...in where I came from.”
He noted her reticence to share her home state. “Who else was placed in the program with you? Parents? Siblings?”
“No one. Just me. That’s what I said. Eighteen was the age of majority in Florida.”
“Then you haven’t spoken to anyone in your family for fifteen years?” he asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity.
Someone even a few months younger would have gone into protection with at least one other family member.
“No.”
She said the word with no more emotion than she’d use in a weather report—sunny skies, no sign of rain.
Shane closed his eyes for a moment. She was originally from Florida. She’d moved to Alaska fifteen years ago with no family, no friends and no past.
Suddenly weary, he sat back in his chair and swiped a hand over his eyes. He remembered being eighteen. He remembered thinking he knew everything—could conquer anything. He’d been six feet tall and bulletproof. Ready to take on the world. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out he had a lot to learn.
Now when he saw eighteen-year-olds, his chest ached at how unbearably young they were.
“Walt was your handler?” he asked, struggling to understand how the federal government could think an eighteen-year-old was mature enough to decide their own future.
“Sort of. I wanted to work with animals. One of the guys working my case knew Walt. He put us together.”
“Ah.”
The pieces instantly fell into place. Walt had been the one constant in the upheaval of her life. He was more than someone she’d worked for at Denali State Park. Knowing Walt had been with her since the beginning of her time in the program explained her fierce protectiveness of him. It also explained her unwillingness to hear any criticism of him.
He was the closest thing she had to family.
All the questions he’d wanted to ask seemed meaningless now. What did that sort of separation do to a person? To be ripped from everything you knew and everyone you loved. She’d been little more than a kid. Yet somehow she’d survived. Even thrived. Vet school was harder to get into than medical school. He’d always known Kara was special, but he had a new admiration for her tenacious spirit.
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