Chapter 7
On his wayto The Fang, Nick took a detour to book a room at the Lamplight Motel, one of the few places in town with Wi-Fi. While he loved the idea of being out of reach, Wi-Fi was a must while he was on a job. In the shabby room, he sent a text to Mark Jones, the head of security at Hobbs Financial Services and the man who’d hired him.
I’ll need a couple days here.
You lost her?
Alaska’s a big place. Oops, he’d forgotten that Jones didn’t do humor. She’s here hiding out. It won’t take long to find her.
Already taking too long. Maybe I should fly out there.
No point until I find her. You’ll just be spinning your wheels.
The last thing Nick wanted was for Jones to show up in person. Whenhe’d taken this job, he’d been asked to find Charlie Santa Lucia, then persuade—not coerce, not force—her to meet with Mark Jones. For what, they wouldn’t say. The meeting could be in person, by phone, by FaceTime, by Zoom, whatever. But it had to be private.
The whole thing felt off to Nick. Usually, he had some idea of his client’s ultimate goals. But Mark Jones gave away nothing.
Nick had long ago decided that Jones would have to be satisfied with a phone call. Charlie Santa Lucia had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He liked her style. He didn’t know what she’d done to get on Hobbs Financial’s bad side, but he was secretly rooting for her.
You aren’t dragging this out, are you? I’ve seen the photos of her.
Nick gave his phone the middle finger. He was a professional. Of course he wasn’t dragging it out. If anything, he was embarrassed by how long this was taking. Maybe he should have intercepted her somewhere in Canada instead.
Just doing my job, he texted Mark Jones.
Get it done.
And thus ended another friendly exchange with his current client.
While he had a connection, he decided to text Hailey. Ever since he’d met her, he’d tried hard to find the right balance of reaching out and not bugging her. Sometimes she loved hearing from him, sometimes she couldn’t be bothered. Was that a teenage thing? Or an “I just met the dad I thought had abandoned me but who actually didn’t know I existed” thing? Whatever it was, he tried to respect it.
Where are you rn? she texted back.Since he traveled so much, that was usually her first question.
Alaska. He tried to send her a photo he’d taken of the mountains, but the Wi-Fi wasn’t quite up to that task.
No shit.Was she supposed to be using that language? Should he say something? He dismissed the thought. Trying to be Mr. Authoritarian at this point would be stupid. He’d just alienate Hailey, and Jill might decide to clamp down on his time with her.
After Hailey had first reached out to him, he’d consulted a lawyer, who advised him to work things out amicably instead of going to the courts. He’d taken that advice to heart and it hadn’t led him wrong so far.
Finally the photo went through.
YOUR IN ALASKA???
Should he correct her grammar? Would that alienate her?
I’m in Alaska.
I always wanted to go there, there’s this dope vampire movie set there.
No vampires so far, but I just got here.
Ha ha. Wrong time of year for vamps. Isn’t it light all the time?
Yup. My motel has blackout shades.
I’m so jelly. Are you going to be there for the longest day of the year? Midsommar? Do they have rituals and stuff?
Did all her knowledge of the world come from horror movies? Don’t know. Hope not.
Hope SO! How’s Hector?
Fine AFAIK
He’d gone against his better judgment to check on the wounded warbler. That mistake was probably how Charlie had figured out he was still in town. Still, it was worth it because Hailey had been quite worried about Hector. Two things he knew about his new daughter so far: she loved horror movies and she had a soft spot for all wild creatures. He wasn’t sure how those two things fit together, but that was teenagers for you.
You should adopt him. He can be like the kid you didn’t even know you had
He sent her a laughing face emoji for that one, even though it stung a little. He would have liked the opportunity to be more of a dad, even though he could hardly blame Jill. She’d tried to find him, but after their one night together, he’d left town with no clue that anything had gone wrong with her birth control.
When’s your last day of school?
1 more week, ugh. I can’t wait for summer even tho Mom won’t let me get a job. How am I supposed to prepare myself for the real world when I can’t even work at Mickey D’s like everyone else?
An idea formed. A radical one, something he couldn’t possibly share with Hailey until he worked it through. She has her reasons.Just have fun this summer while you still can.
Why do grownups always make being an adult sound like a living hell?
Good point.
It’s not so bad, look at me, I’m in Alaska about to grab a beer at a bar called The Fang.
Sooooo jelly
After that, she had to sign off to finish up some homework.
This is your life now, he told himself with a sense of disbelief. You have a daughter who has to finish her homework. How fucking trippy and amazing is that?
Deciding that he’d be better off at The Fang if he abandoned any hint of “law enforcement,” he changed into jeans and a sweater. Even though it was full springtime, late May, he still felt the last gasp of winter in the air as he strolled down Pioneer Boulevard toward the simple cedar-sided building known as The Fang.
As he walked, he took in the mix of grungy, dilapidated frontier cabins with moss growing on their roofs, along with brightly painted new businesses that had opened up more recently. That was the conundrum of Firelight Ridge, from what he’d read. The old mining community—then known as Fangtooth—had nearly disappeared after the copper mine had shut down nearly a hundred years ago. But some hardcore residents had hung on, and over the years they’d been joined by newcomers drawn to the magnificent setting deep in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.
Those two types didn’t always see eye to eye, to say the least. Some locals wanted to bring in more summer adventure tourists. Others would prefer it if the world forgot about Firelight Ridge.
In fact, just recently a major bust had exposed a local family, the Chilkoots, with some wild plans to cut themselves off completely from the outside world.
It felt strange heading for a dive bar when it was full daylight outside. But his phone told him it was after eight in the evening. Everything about Alaska was disorienting to Nick, but he liked that. Being in the investigation business could make a guy cynical. You saw the same criminal behavior over and over, you spent time in the same kind of seedy environments. Sometimes Nick thought he’d seen and heard everything.
But he’d never breathed anything like the pure mountain air here, and never seen anything like the brilliant sunlight glaring off the fields of snow in the upper ridges. One particular peak drew his eye because of its nearly perfect triangular shape and the beautiful colors along its flanks. He’d have to find out what that one was called, and if it had a hiking trail.
You’re not here to hike, he reminded himself.
But if his crazy idea worked out, and if he wrapped up this case in a couple of days, maybe he could come back here with Hailey.
“So…you’re law enforcement?”
The big black-haired guy behind the bar frowned at him. Nick hadn’t noticed him in the crowd gathered around the bulldozer, but word must have gotten around.
“No.”
“Impersonating an officer?” The bartender still didn’t seem inclined to take his order. He rested his hands on the counter, his bulging muscles flexing under his thermal shirt.
“Oh, you mean my car? Yeah, I gotta get a paint job. Everyone thinks I’m an undercover cop. Go figure.”
“You’re not?”
“If I were, would I even say those words?”
Big Guy didn’t seem impressed. “Who are you?”
“Just a guy, looking for a girl.”
“Wrong place to look for a girl.” The old guy at the next barstool over snickered. He wore a battered straw hat and his gray beard was scattered with peanut crumbs. “We got women here, not girls, and they’re tough as they come.”
Glancing around The Fang, Nick didn’t doubt it. One woman in an olive-drab fishing hat and her arm in a sling was matching shots with a man the size of a small bulldozer. Another woman had her feet on the table, her chair tilted back against the wall, and what looked like a baby porcupine curled on her shoulder.
“It’s a specific woman. I have some good news for her, but she seems to think it’s bad news. She stays one step ahead of me.”
“Can’t you call her? Text her? Send her a letter?” the bartender demanded.
“I am familiar with all the modern modes of communication, yes. I’ve even tried faxing her, which shows just how desperate I am. No go. So I’m going the old-school route. Face to face, live, in the flesh. Nick Perini, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. Big Guy ignored it.
“Got some ID?”
“Are you carding me?”
The bartender just waited stoically for him to dig up his license. He handed it over and watched the man scrutinize it within an inch of its life. It wouldn’t tell him much. Nick Perini, born thirty-six years ago, brown hair, brown eyes, six feet tall, a hundred and eighty pounds, resident of Chicago, Illinois.
Finally, the man handed back his license. “We don’t like strangers showing up here asking questions,” he stated.
“That must make it hard for tourists,” Nick said mildly.
The man’s mouth twitched. A-ha. A sense of humor lurked behind that iron-man facade.
“Bear’s just being his usual nice-guy self,” said the old guy on the next stool. “He’s trying to warn you to mind your own business.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Nick said. “So long as I can get a drink to do it with.”
Bear finally relented. “Beer?”
“Beer will do. Whatever’s on tap.”
He didn’t much like beer, but he’d gotten used to it over the years. That and whiskey were his go-to drinks for pulling information from people.
“Who’s this gal you’re huntin’ for?” The man next to him swung around to face him, tilted his straw hat back, wiped his hand on his pants, then offered it to Nick. “I’m Solomon, been around here since Fangtooth days.”
He gestured with his head toward some old framed photos tacked up on the wall behind the bar. Nick looked more closely at one photo of three grinning men with their arms around each other’s shoulders…was that the same straw hat?
Solomon hadn’t quite gotten all the grease off his hand, but Nick shook it anyway. “I’m Nick, just visiting. What do you do around here?” he asked.
“This and that, you know. I’m a miner by trade. A trader too.” He gave a rattling laugh that spoke of loose tobacco and abnormal lung scans. “I drink for free here cuz I traded my old truck to Bear. So who ya looking for?”
“She’s tall, long blond hair, stylish clothes…”
He trailed off because Solomon was already shaking his head. “Ain’t no one like that around here. We got Molly, she has stylish clothes but she’s a redhead. A blond came to visit a while back, but she’s long gone. Could be her?”
It was her.
“Where’s the best place to find Molly?”
Solomon wagged his finger back and forth. “Uh uh. I’m a trader. Watcha got for a trade?”
“Cash,” Nick said simply.
Cash usually worked, but Solomon shook his head in disappointment. “That’s not trading, man. Don’t you know what a trade is?”
Before Nick could answer, Solomon got distracted by the arrival of a woman at the opposite end of the bar. Bear emerged from the prep area behind the counter and the two plunged into a quiet conversation.
“Now that’s a woman,” Solomon muttered. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Nick took another look at her. She was older, though not quite Solomon’s age, more like mid-sixties, at a guess. With her slender frame and perfect posture, she commanded attention just by standing at the bar. Even though she wore simple corduroy work trousers and a blue denim overshirt, her queenly bearing gave the outfit a certain flair. As she strode out of the bar a moment later, she caught Solomon’s eye and gave a short nod. He scrambled off the bar stool and trundled after her.
Hopeless crush, Nick decided. Either that or an irresistible trading opportunity.
With his barstool companion gone, Nick settled into a state of quiet listening. From experience, he knew that some of the best leads could be gleaned from eavesdropping in bars. Everyone seemed to be talking about the Chilkoot family, but he tuned that out because he didn’t see much connection between that case and Charlie.
Except for one link—Molly.
Occasionally her name would come up. That was how he learned that she had been staying with Lila in an old hardware store, of all things, but now she and Sam Coburn were “hot and heavy,” according to the woman with the porcupine.
That gave him two places to check out, Lila’s hardware store and Sam Coburn’s place. Not only that, but he picked up the fact that Lila Romanoff also worked at The Fang. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever.
He’d find Charlie. It was just a matter of time. And when he did, he’d make sure he was present for whatever happened next. He wouldn’t throw her to the wolves, no matter what she’d done or hadn’t done to Hobbs Financial.
What exactly did a multinational corporation with seventy-two subsidiaries want with Charlie Santa Lucia? He’d really like to know the answer to that. She was fascinating to him with her wry humor and her caginess. He’d enjoyed every second of the time he’d spent with her. In another situation, another universe, maybe…
But if life had taught him anything, it was that you had to play the hand you were dealt. For instance, what would his life have been like if he’d known fifteen years ago that he was a father? Maybe he would have a different type of job, something more settled, less secretive.
No point in “what ifs.”
Charlie might have liked him back in Barlow, but she probably despised him now. He couldn’t blame her for that. And if he completed his mission, she’d probably hate him even more.