That Reckless Night

“Can we please just get to work?” Focusing on a detail within her scope of expertise was the most efficient way of stopping the inappropriate thoughts and conversation. However, she stopped to ask him a question that had been bugging her. “Whatever brought you to Alaska, anyway? According to your bio you had a pretty good job where you were. Why would you want to start over in a foreign place with people you don’t know?”

Jeremiah’s expression shuttered and she knew right away there was something painful he was protecting. She knew that look. She knew it deep in her bones. She knew it the same way she knew the discomfort of an old, worn shoe that in spite of the damage it was doing to your foot, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. Whatever he was protecting, whatever pain he was trying to suppress, it was something that rode him without mercy just as Simone’s death rode her every single day of her life. The fact that she could sense the pain inside of Jeremiah caused her to mentally stumble. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She didn’t want to know his pain. She didn’t want to know what caused that look in his eyes. She didn’t need reasons to identify with Jeremiah Burke.

Jeremiah accepted her exit from the conversation and simply jerked a nod. “Tell me about the suspects in this case.”

* * *

JEREMIAH COULDN’T BELIEVE how swiftly one single, innocent question from Miranda managed to tilt him on his ear. He’d known people would ask why he would leave a good job in Wyoming to come to the wilds of Alaska. And he’d had a ready answer. But when she’d asked that single question he couldn’t give her the practiced speech he’d prepared. It’d been on the tip of his tongue to admit that his son, Tyler, had been killed and he couldn’t fathom staying another minute in the place where there were so many memories. For a heartbeat, he almost envisioned sharing his personal pain with a total stranger.

Okay, she wasn’t a total stranger but he really didn’t know her. He didn’t know who she was. And what he did know about her, he wasn’t sure he agreed with. He was grateful she had given him an out. But in that moment he’d seen something in her eyes, something that identified with him in a way that shocked him to his toes. There was something in Miranda’s past, something she was just as sensitive about as he was about Tyler. Something told him he could probably find out fairly easily where her pain originated. That was the beauty of a small town. But going behind her back and snooping into her past seemed wrong. If Miranda wanted him to know what she was protecting, that information ought to come from her. Not that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d share.

* * *

“JUDGING BY THE EVIDENCE, what little there was left behind, we think there are five men involved. But that’s pure speculation because they cover their tracks so well. Sometimes I wonder if they’re somehow making it look as if there are more people when there’s only two. Who knows? But it’s definitely someone who knows what they’re doing. Which leads me to think that it’s a local. As much as I hate to think that. But who else would know the area the way they do and who else would know how to get in and out of those mountains without dying? It’s rough terrain. An inexperienced person could easily slip and fall to their death in these mountains. But whoever these people are they have the sure-footedness of a Billy goat.”

“Could it be one of the indigenous people?”

Miranda’s expression was grim. “Possibly. I’ve asked around but the tribes around here are pretty tight-lipped when it comes to their own. Even if they knew one of the tribal members was committing the crime, they’d never tell the authorities. They don’t trust easily, and like many indigenous tribes, they have reason to distrust those in authority.”

Jeremiah seemed to disagree with her comment but he didn’t chase after that train of thought and she was glad he’d remained quiet. She was protective of the Yupik and their rights because in her son’s blood ran the proud heritage of the local people. Mamu’s ancestors had fished the frigid waters and lived in harmony with Alaska before any white man had stepped foot on the shores to show them the “right” way to live. “I can check and see if there’s been any poaching crimes that fit the M.O. of the poachers here and see if anything pops up that might help. If they’re running a black-market operation, chances are they aren’t hunting only in Alaska.”

Miranda nodded. “That’s true. I made some inquiries but no one seemed all that interested in miring themselves in research for someone else’s pet project.”

“Poaching doesn’t rate on the same level as homicide or even grand theft. Every federal agency is underfunded and understaffed these days it seems. No one wants to take on more work than they have to,” he said.

“Don’t I know it,” she grumbled. “I’ve had a heck of a time getting anyone in our office to lift much more than a finger to help. No one is interested in fieldwork these days and tracking poachers is time spent away from the comforts of a warm office and their topped-off coffee mug.”

“When I was younger I used to spend a lot of time in the field as a ranger. I loved the solitude and the quiet of the mountains. Sometimes I was able to make more sense of what was going on in my life when I was completely surrounded by nature than when I was among other human beings.”

“‘The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness,’” Miranda said with a faint smile.

“John Muir,” Jeremiah murmured with approval. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Gotta love an activist with his heart in the right place,” Miranda said. “I think my brother Wade fancied himself a modern-day John Muir. Fitting, seeing as he moved to California to become a law-enforcement ranger in Yosemite National Park.”

“I did a stint there in my early days. Beautiful country. The valley floor takes your breath away. Have you ever been?”

Miranda shook her head. “Nope. Alaska is enough for me. I don’t share my brother’s wanderlust. Besides, I have plenty to keep me busy right here.”

Miranda allowed silence to fill the cab as she maneuvered the streets out of town and up toward the forest access roads. Jeremiah was unlike any man she’d ever met, particularly for an administrator. Virgil had been content to play by the rules without poking his head up too often to attract attention. His belief had been that if they kept their heads down, when budget cuts came around, Homer’s small satellite office would get overlooked for bigger fish. So with that in mind, Virgil never updated anything in the office, which included the furniture, the carpet, the leaky toilet. Perhaps his strategy had worked because Homer had been left alone when the last round of cuts had come around, but then, they’d been operating on such a ridiculously low budget, Miranda wasn’t sure where they could’ve cut expenses unless they’d started forgoing toilet paper and started using newspaper for their bathroom business.

As if keying into her thoughts, Jeremiah asked, “How was your relationship with your former boss? Virgil was his name, right?”

“Yes. Virgil was Virgil. Good, solid guy. A little on the cranky side at times but otherwise harmless. Why?”

“Just making conversation.”

“How was your relationship with your former boss?” she asked, lobbing the question right back at him.

“My boss was a jackass.”

“Why didn’t you like him?”

“She,” he corrected, “was a power-hungry egomaniac on her best days. However, she didn’t want to bother with my department and left me to run it as long as nothing landed on her desk that would make her look bad. Thankfully, I did my job well, and thus, our paths crossed only a few times a year for the obligatory dinners, and we managed to smile civilly for appearances’ sake.”

“So why do you call her a jackass?”

“Because she was as tough as any man I’d ever known and I figured the term fit.”

She chuckled. “Something tells me you’re not going to send her a Christmas card this year.”

“Crossing her off the list was done with more than a little zeal.”

Miranda laughed a little harder, picturing Jeremiah striking a name with a big black marker and an expression of maniacal glee. Jeremiah graced her with a wry but knowing look. “You just imagined me as a crazy person in your mind, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not,” she lied, her smile remaining. “Nice to know you’re human just like the rest of us.”

He shot her an assessing glance. “Should I be flattered or concerned that I come off as inhuman?”

She faltered, realizing she may have inadvertently insulted him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. We really shouldn’t talk about personal stuff. It’s a slippery slope given our history.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I have a decent sense of humor and I hardly consider polite banter between two people as crossing a line. Our history doesn’t have to be the elephant in the room.”

“But it is the elephant in the room,” she disagreed. “Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem joking around with my superior if I found that person open to it, but I’m not entirely comfortable doing that with you because of my fear that we’re becoming noticeably too familiar. The last thing I need is people talking about my professional relationships.” She added, grumbling, “They do enough talking about me as it is.”

Jeremiah chose to let her comment slide and she was grateful because she should’ve kept that complaint to herself. Her mother was fond of saying, “It’s your bed, now lie in it,” and ordinarily, she wouldn’t have given two flips of a sea otter’s fin how others felt about her, but for some reason she cared what Jeremiah thought about her. She’d dig into those reasons later. For now, she wanted to ignore them.

“I like to get to know my team,” Jeremiah continued. “I feel it helps me to be a better leader if I know the strengths and weaknesses of the people around me. I don’t know how to get to know someone without discovering some personal details about them.”

“And how did your team back in Wyoming feel about you poking your nose into their personal business?”

“I didn’t ask intrusive questions.... I simply showed that I was interested in knowing what they cared about. And you know what, my team appreciated my interest. They said it made them feel as if I was doing more than only being their boss because it was my job.” He paused before admitting, “I prided myself on being more than a superior, but I don’t know how to do that with you.”

“I think you know me well enough,” she muttered. “The way I see it, we already know each other too well.”

Jeremiah caught her gaze briefly but it was long enough for Miranda to see the heat smoldering behind those beautiful eyes and she knew in an instant that he was thinking of all the ways they’d spent the evening worshipping each other’s bodies. Her cheeks flared and her breath hitched in her throat as words escaped her. Jeremiah saved her from further embarrassing herself by speaking first. “I’m trying to operate as I’ve always done with employees. I’m trying to forget our first encounter.”

“How’s that working out for you?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“As well as it is for you,” he retorted drily. “But I’m going to keep trying and I suggest you do the same. In the meantime, if I don’t treat you the same as I treat everyone, it will look odd. So...I will ask you about your family, your pets and your hobbies just as I would for Todd or Mary or anyone else on my team. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” She didn’t like it, but Jeremiah’s statement made sense even if the idea of giving up more personal information, however superficial, made her squirm. But she had to admit, having a boss who actually cared about things wasn’t entirely bad. “You’re a good guy, Jeremiah Burke,” she decided with an irritated sigh. “Things would’ve been a lot easier if you’d been a total ass. And ugly.”

She was pleased when he simply acknowledged her grudging compliment with a slight head nod. If he’d mucked up the sentiment with more words, it would’ve ruined the good feeling she had about him. And she was glad that he hadn’t.

CHAPTER EIGHT

JEREMIAH WAS NO STRANGER to a beautiful landscape but the Alaskan wilderness took his breath away. Nearly literally.

He shrugged and shifted in his down jacket, shuddering as the cold jarred his bones, reminding him with an icy touch that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. An old skiing injury always flared up in the winter, aching and protesting when the temperature dropped, just like it was now. Miranda caught his subtle wince as they climbed the trail winding deeper into the Kenai Mountains and stopped with a frown. “You okay? If you aren’t up to this, we can turn around.”

“I’m fine,” he answered, determined to keep going. He didn’t want Miranda to see him as a weak desk monkey, though he knew it shouldn’t matter what she thought of his masculinity. He gritted his teeth and ignored the dull pain throbbing in his knee. “Show me the way. I’m right behind you.”

“If you say so, but the trail gets pretty rough up ahead,” she warned as she turned and kept trudging along the trail that was clogged with deep foliage and ruts caused by snow runoff. The bite in the air smelled sharp and clean even if it cut through his bones. He probably should’ve picked a warmer clime—like Arizona or Nevada—but if anything said “you’re old and can’t take it” faster than a move to Arizona, Jeremiah didn’t know. Besides, he hated the extreme heat even more than he hated the idea of being thought of as a soft-handed desk monkey.

They came to a ridge overlooking a meadow that bumped up against the edge of a lake, and the beauty filled him with joy. “Pretty as a postcard,” he murmured in appreciation. “This is definitely God’s country.”

“Yeah, nothing is better than Alaskan wilderness to remind us just how small we really are.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d match up the glory of Alaska to any place in the United States.”

“You love Alaska.”

“I do,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know why—by all rights, I ought to hate this place—but I can’t imagine my life anywhere but here. Guess I have Alaskan ice flowing through my veins.”

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