by Susan Cliff
She smiled in relief. Leaning toward him, she kissed his bearded cheek. “Thanks, Cam. You’re a good man.”
He grunted his response, his neck ruddy. She climbed out and shut the door, zipping up her parka to ward off the chill. The temperature would climb after sunrise, but only a little. Winter days were cold and short. She inhaled the brisk, snow-laden air. She didn’t see any other vehicles on the road.
Cam pulled forward, gravel spitting from his tires. He drove the short distance to the entrance of the auto repair shop. Tala headed the opposite direction, toward the café. Coffee was huge in Alaska, and she liked it as much as the next girl, but the lights in the bookstore beckoned. She bypassed the café and headed inside. An elderly man in glasses muttered a greeting as she walked in. He was immersed in a taxidermy project. There were stuffed puffins and other frozen birds scattered around.
She strolled up and down the aisles, her hands in her pockets. After a few minutes of browsing, she found a small stack of graphic novels on a bottom shelf in the back of the store. She spotted a book that Duane had ordered for her last Christmas. She plucked it off the shelf, her throat tight. Fresh tears flooded her eyes and her knees went weak. She sank to a sitting position on the floor.
Her marriage to Duane had devolved into a prison of intimidation and abuse, but it hadn’t started that way. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he’d been cruel every moment. They’d had good times, especially in the beginning. The man who’d abused her seemed like a different person than the man she’d married.
She felt guilty about her attraction to Cam, which was ridiculous. Duane didn’t deserve her loyalty. She was angry with him for hurting her, and angry with herself for choosing him. She should have run at the first sign of trouble. She should have seen the darkness inside him before it closed in on her.
Her father had warned her that some people weren’t what they seemed. Some men were wolves in sheep’s clothing. She hadn’t remembered his advice until it was too late. She wouldn’t forget it again.
Her fingertips skimmed the novel’s dusty cover. It was one of her favorites. The artwork depicted a man with horns and a woman with a baby at her breast. Duane had torn her copy to shreds in a jealous rage one day.
Blinking the tears from her eyes, she set the book aside and chose another.
Chapter 8
Cam pulled into an empty space in the garage, letting the engine idle.
His rig needed a few modifications before he could drive it on the ice road. The adjustments would take almost an hour, and Cam didn’t need to watch the process. He could have joined Tala in the bookstore. He could have brought her into the shop, for that matter. The company mechanic wouldn’t report him for having a female companion in Fairbanks. On the Dalton, it was another story. He wasn’t allowed to transport a passenger without permission and a liability waiver. If a safety supervisor spotted Tala with him, he’d be screwed.
He didn’t know why he’d agreed to bring her along.
Okay...he knew why, but he couldn’t believe he was doing it. He’d become infatuated with her, against his better judgment. He was letting his emotions take over. He hadn’t been himself since he’d found Tala in his hitch space. Every decision he’d made after that moment had been questionable. He wasn’t usually a rule-breaker, but he’d been numb for so long. She made him feel alive, and he wanted to hang on to that feeling. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
If he left her behind, he’d lose her. He felt it in his bones. She’d run away from Fairbanks and he’d never see her again. He’d never get the chance to save her. He’d never know what might have been.
He studied the smiling photograph of Jenny. He was forgetting her, little by little. Her face wasn’t as clear in his mind as it used to be. Her voice didn’t pop into his head as often anymore. He didn’t hear echoes of her bright laughter.
After a long moment, he removed the photo from the dash and put it in the pocket next to his seat. Then he worked the ring off his finger, tucking it away with the picture. Before he could rethink his actions, he grabbed his cell phone and climbed out of his rig. He nodded at the mechanic as he left the garage. Snowflakes drifted down in soft flurries, adding to the fresh powder on the ground. The knuckles on his right hand throbbed.
He hadn’t brought Tala to the garage because he needed space. He wanted to cool down and clear his head. He also wanted to have a conversation without her listening in. His older brother, Mason, was a detective with the Seattle Police Department. Cam scrolled through his short list of contacts. Then he bit the bullet and called him.
Mason answered on the second ring. He didn’t sound happy, which wasn’t a surprise. “Cam,” he said simply.
“Mason.”
“Where are you?”
“Fairbanks,” he said, looking up at the bleak sky. “Do you have time to talk?”
“You want to talk now? Really?”
Guilt speared through him. He fell silent, because he deserved Mason’s vitriol. He also figured that letting his brother vent was better than trying to forge ahead as if he’d done nothing wrong.
“You didn’t want to talk in Tacoma.”
“I felt ambushed.”
“Give me a break,” Mason scoffed. “Nobody ambushed you. Mom invited a friend of Jenny’s and you freaked out.”
“It was a setup,” Cam said.
“So what? You didn’t have to leave early, or treat the girl like the goddamned plague. You made Mom cry.”
Cam swore under his breath. “I’ll send her some flowers.”
“Who, Jenny’s friend?”
“No, Mom. I’m not interested in Jenny’s friend, or anyone else Mom tries to throw at me. I know she means well, but she needs to back off.”
“Stop living like a recluse and she will.”
“I didn’t call for a lecture.”
“You think you’re the only person in the world who’s ever lost someone?” Mason continued, undeterred. “You’re the only one grieving? The only one whose life didn’t work out the way you expected?”
Cam tried to tamp down his anger, and failed. “Don’t compare yourself to me, brother. Your wife is still alive. She just doesn’t want you anymore.”
It was a low blow, and Cam regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. Mason’s silence indicated that the barb had hit its mark. Their conversations tended to be contentious, which was why Cam avoided calling. He wished there wasn’t so much animosity between them. They used to lift each other up, not tear each other down.
“I’m sorry,” Cam said gruffly. “That wasn’t fair.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“I need your help.”
Mason made a heavy sound into the receiver. But he didn’t hang up. “With what?”
“I met a woman.”
“You met a woman,” Mason repeated in a flat tone.
“She was stowed away behind my cab, so I gave her a ride to Fairbanks.”
“You’re high, aren’t you? You’re on trucker drugs.”
“I’m not high,” Cam said, rolling his eyes. He told an abbreviated version of his adventures with Tala, omitting the overnight stay in the cabin. That was too personal to share. “I think she’s in trouble, and I want you to look into it.”
“What’s her name?”
“Tala.”
“T-A-L-A?”
“I guess.”
“I need more info than that, Cam.”
He gave as many details as he could remember, including the Abigail Burgess alias. “She’s from Yellowknife, in Canada. She has family in Montana. Her husband is some kind of cop named Duane.”
“What’s her description?”
“She’s about five-nine, maybe one hundred and forty pounds, long black hair, brown eyes. Unusually pretty.”
“How old?�
��
“Twenty-five.”
Mason grunted with derision.
Cam rattled off short descriptions of the two men in the parking lot.
“Why are you asking me to do this?” Mason asked. “You can call the local cops anytime.”
“She doesn’t want me to call them.”
“That’s a red flag, Cam. A big red flag.”
“Maybe the local PD is in on it.”
“Maybe she’s a liar.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Want to know what I think?” Mason didn’t wait for a response. “I think you’ve gone off the deep end. You’ve been teetering on the edge for three years, and now you’ve tipped right over.”
“I’ve been doing the best I can.”
“Have you?”
Cam didn’t answer.
“This girl could be a criminal, or a teen runaway—”
“She’s not a teen runaway. I haven’t gone that far off the deep end.”
“Why are you ordering a background check, if you trust her?”
“I want to help her,” Cam said, raking a hand through his hair. “I like her.”
“She’s unusually pretty, with a hot body?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead below the waist, Cameron. I’m just concerned about your mental state.”
Cam scowled at the phone. “Are you going to run her or not?”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“What?”
“Come home for Christmas.”
Cam smothered a groan at the request. Christmas was in the middle of the ice-road season, and the holidays were the most difficult time of year for him. Going home always reminded him of Jenny. She’d died the last week of December.
“Well?” Mason prompted.
“You’re killing me,” Cam said.
“You’re killing Mom.”
Cam told Mason to screw himself, and Mason said it right back. It was just like old times. “Okay, you rotten bastard. I’ll come home.”
“Lay off the crystal meth, too.”
“It’s hard to be the ugly brother, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know. How’s sitting on your ass all day working out for your metabolism?”
“You tell me, desk jockey.”
Mason laughed, taking no offense. For most of their lives, they’d been close, with good-natured teasing between them instead of deep rancor. “I’ll meet you on the basketball court and we’ll see who’s getting slow.”
Cam smirked at the challenge. “I won the last round.”
“Only because you cheated.”
He shook his head in disbelief. Mason was such a sore loser. They’d been battling on and off the court since they were kids. “Text me the details as soon as you can. I’ll be on the Dalton, so I might not be able to reply right away.”
“Whatever,” Mason said. “Stay safe.”
“I will,” Cam said, and hung up. He pocketed the phone, his spirits lighter. He’d expected Mason to be surly and judgmental, and he had been, but he’d also agreed to help. Their conversation had ended on a positive note. His brother had sounded almost jovial. They’d laughed together, like they used to. Maybe Mason was getting over his divorce. Maybe, in time, Cam could get over Jenny.
He scooped up a handful of snow and covered his knuckles, hissing at the sting. Then he walked inside the lobby to wait. He could see the bookstore and the coffee shop from the front window. The stockyard was less than a mile down the road. Although the trucking company had several mechanics on site, they were always swamped with repairs. Cam preferred this place. Whenever he could avoid a crowd, he did.
As he iced his hand, he mulled over his brother’s criticism. Mason exaggerated a little, but he didn’t lie. Cam had overreacted at Thanksgiving. Their mom was a classic meddler, unable to accept Cam’s withdrawal from society. She wanted him to come back to Tacoma, settle down with a nice woman and live happily ever after.
She wanted the same for Mason, who’d disappointed her as much as Cam, if not more. Last year his brother had been the target of her matchmaking efforts. She’d invited Lisa to her Thanksgiving celebration in an obvious attempt to reunite the estranged couple. It hadn’t worked. Shortly after their separation, Lisa had started dating a firefighter. Mason had feigned indifference, but Cam knew better. His brother hated losing, and the dissolution of his marriage had devastated him.
Cam still didn’t know why Lisa had left. Mason wouldn’t talk about it, and Cam was basically a ghost at family functions. He’d been a shadow of himself since Jenny died, buried in his own grief. Disconnected from everyone who cared about him.
He felt guilty about abandoning his brother in a time of need, but his guilt hadn’t spurred him into action. It was another weight to carry, another feeling to escape.
He turned his thoughts to Tala, whose troubles offered a refreshing diversion. He didn’t have to face his problems when he could focus on hers. She was pleasant company, beautiful to look at and interesting to listen to.
Cam understood his brother’s concerns. Her story didn’t add up. She was hiding something, refusing to answer certain questions. Her husband had sent a couple of thugs after her instead of coming himself. That seemed odd. Cam wondered if the guy was a dirty cop with sinister connections, not just a run-of-the-mill abuser.
Cam didn’t really care how dangerous her ex was. Cam didn’t need anyone’s approval. He liked Tala, and he wanted to help her.
The snow melted on his knuckles and dripped from his fingertips. The physical discomfort added to a growing sense of unease. Mason had always been critical of Cam’s decision to come to Alaska. Cam’s family hadn’t understood his need to withdraw. They didn’t approve of his chosen profession. Maybe he wasn’t doing his best here, but he’d been working steadily. He’d been surviving, one day at a time.
If he wasn’t moving forward...at least he was moving.
No one could convince him to come home, because home offered no comfort. Tala did. One night with her had changed something inside him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her. He wouldn’t pursue a relationship with her, however. Whatever happened between them, he couldn’t afford to get attached. It would only lead to another heartbreak. Falling for her could send him over the edge Mason claimed he’d been teetering on. But maybe that was what Cam was seeking. Total ruin, instead of cold apathy.
They couldn’t bunk together in Coldfoot, so he didn’t have to worry about curbing his baser instincts tonight. Beyond Deadhorse was Prudhoe Bay, an industrial wasteland filled with scientists and oil riggers. There were several hotels. They could share a private room at the end of the ice road, on the outermost edge of civilization.
When his truck was ready, he drove back to the spot where he’d left her. She was sitting in the café with a cup of tea and a stack of books. She turned toward the door when he came in. She seemed relieved to see him.
“I spent some of your money on books,” she said, tugging on her parka.
“Find anything good?”
“Yes.”
She held the books protectively, as if she thought he might try to take them away. Her eyes looked red and swollen. “Are you okay?” he asked as they walked outside. She’d taken a spill in the parking lot earlier.
“I’m fine.”
“You still want to come with me?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t try to talk her out of it again. If they were heading toward disaster, so be it. “I’m going to the stockyard now to pick up the load.”
“What are you delivering?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out when I get there.” He opened the passenger door to let her in. She crawled into the berth with her stack of books. She’d have to stay back there until they left Fair
banks.
A trailer filled with building supplies was waiting for him at the yard. He signed the paperwork and secured the load, pleased with the assignment. He’d hauled worse. Oversize loads, hazardous chemicals and cargo that exceeded recommended weight limits weren’t uncommon. All of it had to be delivered to the drop-off zone as fast as possible, in order to facilitate the lucrative work on the pipelines.
Oil was big business in Alaska, and black gold flowed in any weather. The coldest months of the year were among the busiest, because the ice roads made it possible to drive the short distance from Deadhorse to Prudhoe Bay. When the ice melted, the route was closed. Goods for the pipeline and its employees had to be delivered by air or sea. It was that remote and inaccessible.
Cam filled up his gas tank before he headed out of town, toward the Dalton. It was about a hundred miles west of Fairbanks. The entire length of the highway could be traversed in one long day, if you started early enough and the weather cooperated. Cam was getting a late start, by trucker standards, and the snow flurries reduced visibility. He’d be lucky to hit Coldfoot, the halfway point, by early evening.
Tala stayed in the berth, reading one of her graphic novels. She closed the book after about thirty minutes. “Can I come up front?”
“Sure,” Cam said, shrugging. No one would be able to see her in the snowy dark. Most drivers kept their eyes on the road and minded their own business, regardless. Cam wasn’t that worried about getting reported by another trucker.
She settled into the passenger seat. “Should I duck if we pass someone?”
“Nah.”
“What about after the sun comes up?”
“I’ll let you know. If it keeps snowing, we’re okay.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Good. I’d rather sit beside you.”
He searched her face, which looked a bit pale. He hoped she didn’t get carsick, because the Dalton was twisty as hell. He focused on the drive, saying nothing. Her eyes darted to the side mirror to check the highway behind them. It was the same thing she’d done on the ride from Willow to Fairbanks.
“You think they’ll follow us?” he asked.
