Alaska Twilight

  “Welcome to Hazel’s,” she said. “What can I get you to drink?” Her gaze went from Augusta to Haley, and her mouth dropped open. “You have to be related to Maggie Walsh,” she said. “Haley?”

  Did she really look like her mother? Augusta often said so, and Marge was at least the second person to remark on the similarity since Haley had arrived. “She was my mother.” Haley searched the recesses of her memory. “I’m trying to remember the name of my mother’s best friend. I was thinking she used to work here.”

  Marge smiled. “That would be Fannie Coghill. She owns the café. She’s back in her office doing paperwork. I’ll take you back to meet her after your meal.”

  Haley nodded politely, not sure how much she wanted to learn about the woman who rejected her in spite of their apparent similarities.

  “Vonnie Bird was ordered by the judge to do the home study. She’ll go out tomorrow. We just might have a chance, Marley.” Janine’s voice radiated satisfaction.

  The sun suddenly shone brighter through Marley’s window. “Wonderful! How soon before we can get to court?”

  “Be patient. Let’s find out what Vonnie has to say. If her report comes back in our favor, we’ll push for a quick court date.”

  Marley’s glee ebbed. “I’ve leased an apartment in New York and enrolled Brooke in a private school. I need to be there by the middle of August.”

  Janine sighed. “I wish you’d talked to me before you did that. These things take time. I don’t see any way you can have custody by then, Marley.”

  “We’re going! You just make it happen, Janine.” Marley punched off the phone with a vicious stab. She had promised Leigh, and she was going to keep her word. She stood and paced to the hotel window. Her view looked out Stalwart’s poor excuse for a park. Brooke deserved to play with Marley in Central Park, to be dressed in Lilly Pulitzer, and to have her hair done by a fashionable salon on Fifth Avenue.

  She’d paid an astronomical sum to get Brooke into this school. It was the first step in making sure her daughter was accepted by the highest quality people. Her daughter. She caught herself. Leigh’s daughter. She knew the difference. Of course she did.

  Eleven

  Tank crossed the street, avoiding the muddy potholes. The odor of sauerkraut hung in the air from the greasy spoon next to Chet’s office, and he wrinkled his nose. He liked most food, but he drew the line at sauerkraut. Judging by the crowd, most others didn’t share his prejudice against it. Chet hailed him through the open window of the trooper’s office.

  “I need to see you, Tank.”

  Tank switched direction and entered the office. His smile smug, Trooper Bixby leaned against a wall with his arms folded over his chest. Tank glanced at him warily, then stopped at his father-in-law’s desk. “What’s up?”

  Chet heaved a sigh and rubbed his temple. “Got a question for you, Tank. Why didn’t you tell me you were taking sleeping pills?”

  “What?” Tank glanced at Bixby, whose smile had widened into a triumphant grin. “I’ve never taken sleeping pills in my life. I hate drugs.”

  Bixby straightened. “I did some investigation at the doctor’s office. He wrote you a prescription for Seconal a week before Leigh died. How did you slip them to her? In her favorite tea?” He spat the last word as his eyes narrowed.

  Tank took an involuntary step back. “That’s impossible.” He tried to marshal his thoughts.

  “I don’t know what to think.” Chet’s eyes reddened, and he looked away. “You’ve been like a son to me.”

  Tank knew he was only seconds away from being arrested for his wife’s murder. “Think, both of you. Chet, you talked to Dr. Wooten when we found that packet of sleeping pills. He didn’t say anything about having written me a prescription, did he?”

  Chet looked up and shook his head. “Maybe he forgot.”

  “You know Joe better than that. He had a memory like an elephant. Someone is trying to set me up.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at Bixby. “You’re the one who found this so-called evidence, Bixby. Are you sure you’re not out to prove my guilt any way you can?”

  “It was right there in black and white.” Bixby grabbed the file and shook it in Tank’s face. “I’m placing you under arrest.”

  Chet put his hand on Bixby’s arm. “Hold on there, Bixby. He’s right about Joe. We’d better investigate this some more before we make any assumptions.”

  Bixby jerked away from Chet. “You’re not getting away with this, Lassiter. I’m going to nail your hide to the wall. Don’t be leaving town.”

  Tank exited the office without answering Bixby. The cloud of suspicion over him seemed as black as an Alaskan winter. He had to figure out a way to prove his innocence. His cell phone rang. He looked at the screen. Finally, the lawyer was calling him back. He punched it on. “Lassiter here.”

  The man’s voice reminded him of a frog with a cold. “Mr. Lassiter, this is Garth Jagger. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I’ve been out of town. My secretary says you need some counsel on a custody case?”

  Tank stepped onto the sidewalk and found a bench by a bait shop. “My sister-in-law is suing me for custody of my daughter. She can’t get Brooke, can she?”

  “Depends on if she can prove you’re an unfit parent. And the judge’s decision, of course. What’s going on?”

  “My wife died a year ago. Her twin sister doesn’t think Brooke should be brought up in the bush. She wants to get custody and take her to the Lower Forty-eight.”

  The lawyer’s voice sharpened. “Is the child in danger where you live? You work with bears, don’t you? I’ve heard your name. Is Brooke around the bears at all?”

  Tank flinched at the barrage of questions. “I’m a biologist. It’s my work. She’s not around them, though. Other than the cub I raised a few summers ago. I let Brooke help me give him his bottle sometimes, but he was just a cub. Once he grew, I never let her around him. He’s been released into the wild now and is no longer an issue.”

  “Does he come around at all now?”

  “Once in a while, but I drive him off. I’ve told her to stay in the house. She knows she’s not to be around him.”

  “Let me see what your sister-in-law is claiming and get the full story.” He quoted his retainer. Tank winced but agreed to it. What other choice did he have? Marley couldn’t be allowed to take his daughter. He thought about telling the lawyer about the ongoing investigation into Leigh’s death but decided to wait until there was something more to report. Keeping Brooke was more pressing right now.

  He clicked off his phone and dropped it in his pocket. He glanced down the street, then bolted to his feet. Was that Marley? Chet had said she wouldn’t be back from Seattle until next week. He squinted in the bright sunlight, then took off after her. There was no mistaking the bleached-blond cap of hair or the walk that invited every man in sight to look his fill. Dressed in snug jeans and an even tighter blue top, she was attracting more than the usual attention given to women in town.

  “Marley!” he called. She stopped in front of the Moose Nuggets shop and looked back. Her smile faded, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She and Leigh were as identical as two salmon in a stream, or they would have been if Marley had her natural honey hair color. He’d avoided her since Leigh died. Seeing her hurt too much. He forced a smile and a hearty tone to his voice. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk.” Her green eyes looked haunted, and faint shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tank, but I have to think about what Leigh would want. My sister isn’t here to fight for her daughter, so I have to do it for her.”

  “Leigh wouldn’t want you to rip Brooke from me. I love her,” he countered, barely holding onto his temper. He told himself not to give her any more ammunition for her suit.

  “Move from the bush, and there would be no problem. You let the wilderness kill my sister. I can’t let the same thing happen to Brooke. Leigh won’t allow
me to let it go.”

  He dropped his smile. “What do you mean, she won’t let you? Leigh is dead, Marley. I’d bring her back if I could, but I can’t. If you want to blame someone, blame your sister. She knew better than to go swimming at night.”

  She flushed, then grew pale. “How like you to pass the buck. If you’d been a better husband and had been around more, she wouldn’t be dead. I’ve already heard the autopsy report. She took sleeping pills. I knew she hated it out there. This is your fault, Tank. And you’re going to pay.”

  He flinched and drew back. “So this is about revenge, and not about what’s best for Brooke?” He wished he had a witness to their conversation. He might need it.

  “Of course not. You didn’t exercise good judgment about your family, and my sister is dead as a result of it. I can’t let you kill Brooke with your neglect too. Someone will be out to do a home study tomorrow. She’ll see how unsuitable you are as a father.”

  A home study. The whole thing was surreal. He’d never imagined he’d end up in court fighting to keep his own daughter. “I never neglected your sister, Marley,” he said quietly. “I loved her. And I love Brooke. I’m a good dad.”

  “You only love your bears.” She spat the words. “Leigh and Brooke were always second. She knew it, and I know it. I couldn’t save Leigh, but I’ll save Brooke.” Marley wheeled and marched off toward the jail, her small heels flinging mud as she walked.

  Tank started to go after her but knew it would do no good. Could her mental state be suspect? She’d never liked him, but now she seemed almost psychotic in her hatred. Leigh had killed herself. Pressure built in his head, and he wanted to hide somewhere like a wounded animal. He didn’t want to admit it could be true. He headed toward the little weathered-wood church that he and his family attended. Pastor Steve would help him pray through this.

  Haley sipped her tepid tea and grimaced. She glanced at her watch. Marge had promised to take them back to meet Fannie, but they’d been waiting nearly an hour. She was ready to go. She drummed her fingers on the Formica. The men in this town seemed disposed to stare, and she wanted to bolt back to her room.

  “Quit fidgeting,” Augusta commanded. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Before Haley could answer, Marge finally made her appearance. She’d discarded the stained apron, but she still wore the red bow in her hair. Haley’s gaze went past her to the woman behind her. About five feet two, the woman’s short hair lay in a chic cap that curled behind her ears. Strands of gray dulled the sheen, and her green eyes darted in a wary dance from Haley to Augusta.

  “It’s Haley all grown up. I’m Fannie Coghill.” Fannie extended her small hand. “I’m sorry you had to wait. We had an influx of customers, and I had to pitch in to help in the kitchen.”

  “I remember you,” Haley said, standing as gracefully as she could. “You used to come and drink coffee with my mother.”

  Fannie smiled and pulled out a chair. “That was a lifetime ago.”

  The café had begun to clear out, but the remaining men still regarded Haley with interest. Haley sat down hastily. “Why do the men have to stare?” she asked softly.

  Marge patted Haley’s hand as she turned to leave. “Honey, when a starving man sees food, of course he’s going to want his fill. To them you’re a caribou roast with potatoes and a huge slice of chocolate cake all rolled into one. Get used to it. It’s that way all over the state. Men outnumber women five to one in most remote areas. You’re going to attract attention wherever you go, but here you’re not just a ten, you’re a fifteen at least, and we don’t get many of them up here.”

  Haley kept her eyes averted from the handsome man eying her from the next table. “It makes me uncomfortable. It’s as if he doesn’t even notice I have a leg missing.”

  “He hasn’t looked lower than your hips.” Fannie grinned, then lowered her voice. “You sure do look like your mother. I’m still amazed. I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “I’m here with the bear researcher. I’m also trying to document things about my childhood.”

  Fannie picked up a napkin and began to tear it into strips. “My memory isn’t much good anymore.”

  “Did you see my mother the day of the fire?”

  Fannie’s fingers stilled, then she began to shred the napkin faster. “We had coffee the day before. After Bundle left.”

  Augusta put her hands over Fannie’s. “You seem upset. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine, fine.” She pulled her hands away.

  “I met Ned Bundle the other day,” Haley said.

  Fannie’s head jerked up. “The biggest loser to ever walk the earth.” She curled her lip. “He was always following your mother around, complimenting her, annoying her. She was scared of him. After the fire, Ned took over the dig as if it had been his project all the time. He took credit for the work your dad did.” Spots of color stained her cheeks, and her voice rose.

  “He didn’t seem that type at all!” Haley realized she’d raised her voice and lowered it again. “He was polite and gentlemanly. Very passionate about his work.”

  “Looks like he’s pulled the wool over your eyes. Ask Joy about him. She doesn’t think the fire was an accident either. Tread carefully around him, honey. He’ll pounce when you least expect it. Your father was blackmailing someone. I think it might have been Ned. Maybe he got tired of it.”

  “Are you saying this man may have set the fire? You and Joy both believe that?” Augusta asked. “But why? Just to get control of the dig? That hardly seems a motive to kill someone. And how do you know he was blackmailing someone?”

  “Maggie told me, but she wouldn’t say who it was. Fannie went back to tearing the paper napkin. “Maggie didn’t trust Ned—that’s why I think it might have been him. And she suspected he might be selling artifacts from the dig.”

  “Did my mother tell my father?”

  “Not that I know of. She was afraid of Ned.”

  The mother Haley remembered feared nothing. “Did you tell all this to Chet Gillespie?” Haley asked slowly.

  “Yes, but there was no proof. They didn’t find enough of the bodies to do an autopsy, so we had to go with the fire.”

  Haley winced at the look on her grandmother’s face. Did Fannie have to be quite so blunt? “Did they check to see if it was arson? Can’t they tell how the fire started?”

  “This is Stalwart. We don’t have arson investigators and such. Trooper Gillespie is a good man, but he’s overworked from all the shenanigans the men pull in this town. He declared it an accident and left it at that. But maybe you can get him to reopen the investigation.”

  “On what grounds? This Ned Bundle isn’t going to admit anything to me.”

  “He might.” Fannie thrust out her jaw in a stubborn pose. “I just hate to see him get away with this. Don’t you want to find out what happened to your parents?”

  “Did you date him or something?” Haley asked.

  A tide of red swept up Fannie’s face, and she looked down. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

  Her instincts had been right. “I realize you don’t like Ned Bundle, but a half-forgotten dig of doubtful value is hardly enough to kill over.”

  “I hoped you had more spunk than to ignore this,”

  Fannie said. “I heard how you loved to explore. Isn’t that how your sister died?”

  Haley wasn’t going to talk about Chloe. Not anymore. “My parents’ deaths are for the law, not for me. I don’t have the expertise to delve into something like this.”

  “I might ask some questions,” Augusta said thoughtfully. “This whole thing makes me uneasy.”

  “Stay out of it, Augusta! I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Fannie smiled. “Honey, if you’re so sure I’m all wet, why would you think your grandma might get hurt?”

  “The truth? I don’t care. If that sounds harsh, maybe it is. For me, my parents died a long time ago. They exited my life and never lo
oked back.” She expected Fannie to try to make excuses for her parents, and she didn’t want to hear them.

  The older woman nodded. “I talked to your mother about you several times. She was hard, clear to the end.

  It made no sense to blame an eight-year-old. You were too young to understand.”

  Haley didn’t look at Augusta or Fannie. “Oh, I understood. I knew what I did was wrong, and that I’d killed my sister. My parents never blamed me more than I blamed myself. If I could have taken Chloe’s place, I would have.”

  “Don’t say that, Haley.” Augusta put her hand over Haley’s restless fingers. “It was the Lord’s will. We have to accept what happened.”

  Haley clapped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear any more about the Lord’s will. If he’s that gruesome, how can you love him?”

  Augusta yanked Haley’s hands down. “God promises he’ll work all things out for our good, Haley. All things, not just the ones we like. This is an evil world, but God is good.”

  “I see no evidence of that,” Haley said stubbornly. She glanced at her watch. “I’m going back to my room.” She stood and dropped some money on the table. “Thanks for the information, Fannie. If we hear anything, we’ll let you know.” She grabbed her crutches and fled the café.

  Twelve

  What are you doing out of your room?” Tank scooped up Oscar, who was racing up and down the hotel hallway. His yipping would soon bring irate hunters out of their rooms in droves. The little dog wriggled in his arms and licked his chin. He strode down the hall to Haley’s room and rapped on the door.

  When no one answered, he rapped again, harder, and the door eased open. Sunshine flooded the room from the open curtains. “Haley?” He felt a stirring of unease. “Is everything okay?”

  A rhythmic thump came from the hallway to his left. He turned to see Haley coming toward him on the crutches he’d made her. Turning toward her so she could see the dog in his arms, he smiled. “We have an escapee.”