Alaska Heart

by Christine DePetrillo

  “Oh, no. I want to bury myself alive, but it’s amazing what symptoms an apple-cinnamon muffin can mask.” I poked him in the bicep. “Thanks.”

  Brian shrugged one shoulder. “No problem.” He reached to the coffee table and picked up the TV remote as Jake’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Hold on a minute,” I said.

  “Can you confirm the discovery of another body by the Chena River?” a reporter asked Jake.

  “Yes, another body was found early this morning,” Jake replied.

  “Same condition as the others?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wolf tattoo on the forearm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has the victim been identified?”

  “I can’t release the name at this time. Her family needs to be notified first.”

  Jake’s jaw tightened as he spoke. The concern on his face and the wariness in his voice unsettled me.

  “I will say this, though,” he continued. His brown eyes darkened as he looked directly into the camera. “The Fairbanks PD is committing extra manpower to this situation. We will apprehend the individual responsible for taking innocent lives.”

  The newscast was tossed back over to the desk anchors who moved on to the weather report. Brian looked at me, and I nodded. He flicked off the TV and stood beside me.

  “Terrible what people are capable of, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yeah. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose someone to murder like that.” A shudder rippled through me as I tightened my grip on my backpack and fingered the multi-tool in my pocket.

  Brian nodded and shouldered his own bag. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you today.”

  “I like to think I can take care of myself,” I said. Protecting my heart, however, was a different matter.

  “Okay,” Brian said. “You ready to go?”

  “Always. I can drive. Might as well let Gaia pay for the gas.”

  “Okay,” Brian agreed, following me past the front desk.

  Bear was in his usual spot, newspaper strew across his lap. I gave him an extra long look. Did he look like a killer? Yeah, sort of. Was he strong enough to overpower young, healthy women? Most definitely. I just had never seen him anywhere but behind the Moose Point Resort front desk. He never moved from his post. All his movements were slow and lazy as if time didn’t really mean anything to him. Killing took a measure of quickness that Bear just didn’t possess. Unless the laid-back country persona was just a cover.

  “Going for that plane ride?” Bear said.

  “Uh-huh,” Brian replied. “See you later, Bear.” Brian edged me toward the front door.

  “You folks have a nice time now.” Bear flipped the page of his newspaper.

  Brian waved a hand as we continued out the door. Once outside, he let out a breath. “Nice guy, but he goes on if he gets his hooks in you.”

  Maybe Bear simply didn’t like chatting with me. Was it because I was a woman? Maybe his conversations with women only involved them pleading for their lives. I shook off the shiver working its way through me.

  Brian marched over to my Explorer and went over to the passenger side. Had I told him what I was driving? I didn’t think so, but then again, my attention had been mostly on Dale. I remembered every second spent with him.

  After unlocking the doors, I climbed into the driver’s seat. Brian hopped in as well, tossed his bag in the back seat, and did the same to mine. He reached into the pocket of his blue ski jacket and unfolded a piece of paper.

  “Here are the directions to my friend’s airfield. Want me to copilot this leg of the journey?”

  “Sure. Just don’t expect me to copilot the aerial leg of the journey. I’m going to be taking pictures and trying to keep the drool off the cockpit windows.”

  “Any way I could get some of those photos for Expedition Earth? I can’t fly and snap pictures.”

  “Not that talented, huh?”

  “Not quite. I’ll give you credit in my article of course.”

  “Sounds like a great deal to me.” My own pictures in an Expedition Earth spread. A dream come true. Concentrating on my career and standing firm in my decision to return to New York when the week was done was clearly the right choice.

  Brian’s offer had to be a sign I was supposed to go back to New York. Any logical person could see that. One door closes, another one opens. Wasn’t that what they say?

  Apparently, they hadn’t ever been in love with Dale. Hard to close the door in his perfect face.

  “Alanna?” Brian’s voice was far away. “Alanna? You needed to go the other way back there.”

  “What?” I shook my head and focused on the paper Brian was pointing to.

  “I said left, but you went right.”

  “Oh…sorry.” I’m an idiot. A complete fool.

  I pulled into a gas station and turned around. Heading back the way we came to fix my mistake, I cleared my head of Dale’s face, of his last words to me, and focused. Thinking of not being with Dale and driving didn’t mix. Thinking of not being with Dale and breathing wasn’t a stellar combo either.

  Within twenty minutes we were at the airfield and climbing out of the Explorer, toting our bags. Brian met his contact, and soon we stood in front of a white and red Piper PA-18 Super Cub. If passenger jets could reproduce, this little plane would be its offspring. The two-seat, single-engine plane was no bigger than a pickup truck with wings, and I wasn’t so sure about going up in her any more. I took a few steps back.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Brian whispered in my ear.

  “Right. Of course.” I shifted my backpack and waited for Brian to walk toward the plane. When he didn’t—stood uncomfortably close to me instead—I craned my head to look up at him. He blinked rapidly and stepped back, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

  “C’mon. Let’s go.” He approached the plane’s passenger side and opened the door. “Your chariot, miss.” He bowed gallantly and held out a hand to help me into the plane.

  I took his hand. It was the only way I could get into the Super Cub somewhat gracefully. His hand felt massive under his glove, and as soon as I was in the copilot seat I released it. Brian walked around the front of the small plane and tossed his bag into the cockpit first. I pulled it out of the way, and he climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  Just as Dale had looked right on his sled, Brian was at home in the plane’s cockpit.

  “How long have you been flying?” My eyes swept over the complicated instrumentation stretching out before us. I hadn’t a clue about what any of it did.

  “No doubt a question you should have asked before agreeing to come with me, huh?” Brian teased. “I’ve been flying for fifteen years. When I was twenty, my older brother, Rob, dragged me to an air show. I hadn’t wanted to go, but he begged, so I caved. I fell in love with the planes and decided to take lessons. Been flying ever since.”

  His fingers expertly skimmed over the various buttons and levers in the cockpit. I eased back into my seat a bit. Brian knew what he was doing. No need to worry. I could focus on the view through my eyes and camera lens.

  “Here.” Brian handed me a set of earphones with a microphone attachment. “It gets loud.”

  I took the headset and plopped it on, adjusting the microphone in front of my mouth. Brian did the same.

  “Check. Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir,” I replied. “Can we get a little Metallica on these?” I tapped the earphones.

  Brian shook his head.

  “Aerosmith? Zeppelin?”

  “No and no.”

  “Party pooper.”

  Brian elbowed me, and I fiddled with the earphones until their bulk was comfortable on my head.

  Brian launched into a mini-lecture on the safety features of the Piper Super Cub, which caused me to envision any number of things that could go horribly wrong while we were flying. He assured me everything he had said was purely precautionary, and I had no need to worry.
Logically, I knew he was right, but worry is so rarely governed by logic, so I still worried.

  “Ready for lift off?”

  I gave Brian a thumbs up, and the plane’s single engine roared to life, rumbling like a summer thunderstorm in New York.

  All of my insides vibrated as the Super Cub rolled down the narrow runway. Patches of snow littered the land to either side of the strip, but the runway itself had been plowed to bare pavement. We gained speed, and with a loud growl the small plane ascended into the brightening morning sky. Soon, I looked upon a miniature version of Fairbanks, still lit by streetlights.

  “We’ll fly at a higher altitude until we get closer to Denali,” Brian’s voice cut into my headset. “Then we’ll swoop on down for a more personal look.”

  I nodded, admiring Brian’s confidence in the pilot’s seat. I was enjoying the ride as well, but I was nowhere near as excited—or as aroused—as when mushing with Dale.

  Jeez, Cormac! Give it a rest.

  I heaved in a strained breath, mad at myself for feeling like crying again, and peered out the window. The Chena River wriggled through the land, and a light breeze rippled the treetops below us. Everything looked so trouble free from the air. Too bad I knew it wasn’t. Women’s strangled bodies had been dumped by that river. The stain of death flowed with its current.

  Shuddering, I fished around in my bag for my camera and snapped a few photos as we climbed higher. Everywhere I turned my head, nature’s perfection filled my vision. It was in the pine boughs reaching heavenward. In the eagles soaring with outstretched wings. In the white-tipped mountains kissing the clouds.

  “Good thing I’ve got extended memory on this thing.” I waved my camera.

  “Lots to capture,” Brian replied, glancing at me.

  I zoomed in on areas of interest and soon didn’t have to zoom in so much. My picture taking had consumed me, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Placing my camera in my lap, I dipped my head to look below us. The plane descended gradually toward Mount McKinley a little south of us.

  “Wow.” The word dribbled from my opened mouth as Brian angled the plane closer to the highest summit.

  “I have to agree. I mean, I knew it was going to be something to see, but this…this is outstanding.” Brian leveled out the plane as we skimmed over the snow-cloaked crests of McKinley. The sun, waking up now, poured golden rays over the mountains causing the snow to sparkle.

  “Looks like a place gods would hang out on, doesn’t it?” I picked up my camera again.

  “Olympus for sure.” Brian nodded. “I’m sure they’d let a goddess like yourself stay with them.”

  “Goddess. Yeah, right.” I shifted in my seat. It was kind of Brian to cheer me up. Though I was cracking jokes and genuinely awed by the view, Brian had to know my mind was elsewhere, and my heart wasn’t completely into our adventure.

  “Thanks again for letting me come with you, Brian.” Figured a little gratitude might help me not seem so rude.

  “No problem. Too bad this ride isn’t getting your mind off of Iditarod guy, though.”

  I hung my head, and Brian laughed beside me.

  “I’m see-through, aren’t I?”

  “Completely transparent.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve been through enough rough break-ups to know it absolutely sucks. You feel all confused, and you’re asking yourself a million questions about what went wrong, how can you fix it, should you fix it. Everything inside of you hurts. Everything outside of you hurts. That’s the all-encompassing power of a heartache. It beats the shit out of you.”

  Brian settled his hand back on the yoke, his grip extra tight. His jaw was pretty well clenched by this point too, and I found myself reaching a hand over to his arm. As soon as my fingers connected with him, he turned to look at me, his blue eyes frosty.

  “Now you’re all riled up thinking about someone who did you wrong,” I said. “Don’t bring yourself down to my level. You were in a good mood. I don’t want to spoil it.” I squeezed his forearm and then let go.

  “You’re not spoiling it, Alanna.” Brian released the tension in his hands and jaw. “I’m glad you came even if you’d rather be with someone else right now.”

  “Brian, it’s not—”

  “It’s okay.” His brows arched over those chilled blue eyes. “We’re not on a date here or anything. We’re on a mission. Two writers, working on our articles and going to any height to make them great articles.”

  I relaxed my shoulders a bit and was assured Brian realized this trip was for business only. Still, I felt bad for not being better company.

  “Let’s see.” I squinted at the view below us. “I’ll make it up to you by taking the best photos I’ve ever taken. How’s that?”

  “Sounds like a deal. I’ll see what I can do to help you along.” Brian let the plane dive, and I let out a yelp. “Didn’t you say you’re a daredevil?”

  “Yeah,” I began, catching my breath, “but usually I’m the one driving on my daredevil stunts so I know what to expect.” I put my hand over my heart, trying to calm it. Brian’s eyes followed my hand and locked onto my chest. His lips parted slightly, and he bit down on his lower lip.

  “I see. So if I warn you we’re going to nosedive into the mountain first, you’d be okay with that?” Brian angled the plane down again as he looked at me.

  “I don’t think I’d ever be okay with the word nosedive while I’m sitting in the front seat of this toy plane.” I tightened my grip on the edge of my seat as the mountain peaks below rushed up at us again. My heart—already pretty bruised—was up in my throat now along with most of my stomach.

  “Cut that out.” I swatted at Brian’s hand on the yoke.

  “Hey, don’t beat up the pilot. If I’m knocked unconscious, then what will you do?”

  “Good point,” I said. “Just don’t careen toward those sharp, rocky tips. I like being in one piece.”

  “It’s a nice looking piece too. Be a shame to ruin it.”

  Okay, second compliment he’d snuck in. I didn’t like the sound of it coming from Brian. Creeped me out for some reason. When I looked at his cool blue eyes on me, I couldn’t stop the shiver that rippled through me. A shiver like the one you feel when you catch the gangly fellow at the supermarket register checking out your boobs while he overhandles your shampoo bottle. Brian didn’t seem like the greasy type, but something about those out-of-place compliments and the way he looked at me—into me—had my skin crawling.

  “Can you get us over to the other side?” I asked, distracting myself from the uneasiness. “I’d like to get a 360 of McKinley.”

  “Anything you want, Alanna.”

  Now everything he said sounded like an innuendo. He had seemed pretty understanding about my situation with Dale, but now it was as if he were trying to pick me up. Suddenly the cockpit was crowded. I was too close to Brian. Nowhere to escape.

  I pressed myself against the passenger side window, taking photos and hoping to gain some space. Hoping I was overreacting. When I felt Brian’s hand on my back, I looked over my shoulder, unsuccessfully masking my growing concern.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Brian’s face was soft, except for the icy fire in his eyes. Even in the shadow of his baseball cap, the crystal blue was piercing.

  “I’m not afraid, Brian.” My voice was strained. Did he notice?

  “Good.” He patted my back and let his hand glide down my arm. He tugged me back into the middle of my seat, closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Didn’t want to hurt me?

  “Why does that sound as if you would hurt me, though?” My palms were clammy by this point, and my heart raced. I held my camera at my chest as if it were a weapon.

  Brian tightened his grip on the yoke. “It’s usually the only way.”

  I was definitely having trouble swallowing now. “The only way?”

  He removed his baseball cap revealing his scar. “This
doesn’t exactly get the women crawling all over me on their own, you know.” He fingered the slice and closed his eyes for a moment. The trees swelled up below us, and I clawed the seat.

  “It’s hideous. I know that.” Brian opened his eyes and pulled up the plane. I exhaled a breath as my mind scrambled. Brian was losing it, and if he lost it, we were going to have a rough landing.

  “Sent my wife running, you know. She couldn’t take it. I had to relearn to walk after the accident. It was too much for her.” He put his cap back on. “So much for ‘in sickness and in health’, I guess. People say the words, but they don’t mean them.”

  His jaw tensed again as we swept over a grove of trees past McKinley. We were flying dangerously low and branches scraped along the belly of the Super Cub as we cleared the area. The screech of chafing metal jarred Brian out of his monologue.

  “Whoops.” He pulled up on the yoke, and we ascended.

  “Some people aren’t equipped to deal with the tough times,” I offered in a voice I struggled to keep steady.

  “My fault, I guess.” Brain shook his head. “I probably should have died. It would have been easier. Then I wouldn’t have to do what I’ve done.”

  “What have you done, Brian?” I braced myself for his answer, but he didn’t supply one. Instead, he looked at me again. His gaze was glossy and unfocused. He didn’t look like the laid-back guy I had talked to at Moose Point. Not at all like the fellow nature author I had shared writer’s block with, or the man who had let me cry on him over Dale.

  This man beside me now was distant, not in the present. He was back in the days after his accident. Back to when his wife had not supported him. He must have felt so alone. Part of me felt sorry for him.

  Another part was scared shitless.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We flew on in complete silence for a few minutes before Brian heaved in a huge breath. I jumped at the sound of it.

  “This time it’s different, you know,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I didn’t care for the waver in my voice.

  “I’ve been watching you since you arrived in Fairbanks.”