Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
On his second mug of coffee, Ace lifted the travel cup to his mouth as he climbed the stairs and pushed through the door into the sheriff’s building.
The place always smelled faintly of dust, old paper, and whatever disinfectant they’d switched to last winter.
Morning light slipped through the high front windows and stretched across the worn wood floor in pale stripes.
His boots echoed as he crossed the entry.
Flossy looked up from behind the reception desk. Her long gray hair was twisted into an intricate bun that never moved, not even when she laughed. “Hey, Ace.”
“Hi, Flossy,” he said. “I’ll get on that firewood for you later today.”
“After bridge?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
He glanced around. “Flossy. That’s a secret.”
She laughed, the sound bright against the quiet hum of the building. “Your brother ain’t here.”
“Where is he?”
Flossy sniffed. “He doesn’t report to me, Ace Osprey.
Not nearly as much as he should anyway.” Her fingers shuffled papers into a neat stack, and the old wall clock ticked behind her in a comfortable rhythm.
Ace shifted his weight. His body still felt loose and lax after an energetic night with May.
He’d dropped her off at the clinic on the way over, watched her disappear through the glass doors with that steady walk she had. He hadn’t shaken the warmth of it yet.
“Hey, Ace.” Amos’s greeting drifted up through the floor vent near the front desk, warped and hollow like it was traveling through a tunnel.
“Hi, Amos,” Ace said, aiming toward the vent.
The middle-aged guy rarely left his apartment downstairs. Most days, he might as well have been part of the building’s wiring.
Ace took a drink before speaking again. “You got any more storms coming in?”
“Yep. Tracking one right now. Probably middle of the week.” Amos paused for a moment, no doubt checking his monitors. “So far it looks like it’ll be clear for Christian’s wedding.”
“That’s good to know,” Ace said.
“Yes,” Flossy said, clapping her hands together. “I heard we’re going to block off Main Street completely.”
Ace nodded. “I heard that too. It’ll be good. We could put some nice tables out so people can enjoy the summer while we have it.”
Outside, a truck rumbled past. The town moved slow this time of morning, like it was stretching awake. Summer never lasted long enough, so everyone took time to enjoy the sun when it appeared.
“What are you doing here?” Flossy asked. “You haven’t been arrested again, have you?”
He brushed a hand through his thick hair. “I haven’t been arrested at all. Not yet anyway.”
Trooper Paige Johnson emerged from the back with an envelope in her hand. She moved like she hadn’t slept. Her shoulders were tight beneath her uniform, and her steps plodding. She handed it to him. “Here are the keys to your truck.”
“Thanks.” Ace looked her over. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Fine lines stretched from the corners of her eyes, and dark circles pooled beneath them.
She wasn’t wearing her hat, considering she was inside, but the rest of her uniform was crisp.
“I take it you’re no closer to finding who killed the young student? ”
“No.” Paige swallowed hard.
That wouldn’t do. “You’re sure you cleared the boyfriend, Tyler?”
“Yeah. He had several alibis, and I believed them. The kids headed back to Montana,” she said.
Ace could feel for them all. “Did you have to do the notification?”
“Yeah.” Paige wiped a hand over her eyes, exhaustion glimmering there. “Her parents were devastated, as you could imagine.”
The air felt heavier after that. Even the hum from the vent seemed to quiet.
“Are you sure you didn’t see anything that night?” she asked, squinting at him.
“I really didn’t. I got in a couple scuffles with Tyler, and that was it.
” Ace shifted the envelope in his hand and leaned one shoulder against the wall.
“There were a lot of tourists in the bar that night. Senator Mercer and his crew too.” He wanted to get back to May.
“I think you should look closer at them.”
“That’s what your brother said.” Paige crossed her arms, and the fabric of her uniform pulled tight across her shoulders.
“But we looked at the social media, and they really were doing some live events late into that night. Alaska’s several hours earlier than a good portion of the country.
” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “I guess they could’ve faked it. ”
“Plus, you don’t know what time she really died,” Flossy said, tapping a pen against her desk blotter.
“That’s true.” Paige exhaled slowly. “I mean, there’s no way to get a completely accurate timeline. But if we’re going to bring a U.S. senator in for questioning, I need more than you don’t like the guy, Ace.”
“Works for me,” Flossy said.
Ace winked at her.
The door opened, and Ophelia walked in, bringing a gust of summer air and the faint scent of pine with her. She moved with purpose, dark hair swinging over one shoulder, eyes scanning the room before landing on him. “Hey, Ace. Getting your truck back?”
“Yeah, finally,” he said. “Apparently I’m cleared.”
“We didn’t find anything in your truck,” Paige said quickly. “Doesn’t mean you’re clear.”
Ophelia didn’t seem bothered by that. She slipped her arm through Ace’s and tugged him toward the hallway. “Why don’t you come back to Brock’s office? I want to talk to you.”
“Okay,” Ace said, letting her pull him.
The hallway lights hummed overhead. Old photographs lined the walls, black-and-white shots of past sheriffs, past winters, and past storms. The building held to history in a way that was strangely comforting. Their footsteps softened on the runner rug as they turned into Brock’s office.
The room opened up wide on one wall with spectacular views of the surrounding mountains.
The other wall held bookshelves stuffed with binders, old case files, and family pictures.
The final wall, across from Brock’s desk, featured a framed photograph of the sheriff’s station at twilight with a glorious sunset spreading across the sky behind it.
“This is new.” Ace peered at the framed photograph.
“Yeah. May took it. Brock tried to buy it from her, but she wouldn’t take any money.” Ophelia stepped closer to the picture, her shoulder brushing Ace’s arm. “She’s very talented. If she ever wants to give up being a doctor, she’d have another career easy.”
It was true. May definitely had an eye for shadows and light. In the photo, the police station felt steadier than it did some days, the sky moodier, the lines cleaner. She somehow captured a mood with the use of light and shadow. And definitely talent.
Ace dragged a hand over his jaw and glanced out at the mountains. The town looked small from here. Manageable. Like nothing terrible could hide in it. “What’s up, Olly?”
“Well,” she said, folding her arms tight. “I want to get Amka and Christian a nice wedding present, but I just can’t figure anything out. You know your brother better than I do. Any ideas?”
Ace hadn’t even thought of a present. “Crap.”
Ophelia frowned, her blue eyes shining with intelligence like usual. “You’re just like Brock. He has no ideas either.”
“It’s Christian,” Ace said, and that should explain everything. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I mean, the guy doesn’t need or want anything. I guess we can get him a new pair of boots.”
“We can’t get them a new pair of boots,” Ophelia said, her voice rising.
Ace held up a hand to avoid that octave ever again. “Okay. Geez.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself as sunlight spilled across the desk between them, catching dust in the air. “I think we focus on Amka.”
“Yes.” Ophelia perked up, stepping away from the desk and pacing once across the office. “That’s what we do. What does Amka like?”
“Her bar?” Ace didn’t know fashion or think Amka was into that, anyway. “I mean, I’ve known Amka her whole life. She likes her bar. She likes people.” A wedding gift shouldn’t be this hard. “What about a new snowmobile? We could all pitch in.”
“As a wedding present?” Ophelia’s brows pulled together while she apparently considered the idea, and then she dismissed it with a small shake of her head. “You know who might have an idea is Damian.”
Ace pulled his phone from his back pocket and texted Damian.
WHAT ARE YOU GETTING CHRISTIAN AND AMKA FOR THEIR WEDDING PRESENT?
Three dots appeared almost immediately as Damian texted back.
OH, CRAP. I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT A PRESENT.
Ace’s shoulders slumped. “If Damian hasn’t thought of anything, we’re totally screwed.
” He let his gaze drift back to the framed photograph of the sheriff’s station.
The sky above it showed the pure blue of an Alaskan day.
“Wait a minute. I bet May has an idea. She probably has a photograph she’s planning to give to them. ”
Ophelia pushed him in the arm, the gesture quick and sisterly. “That’s from May, not you.”
“We’re dating now. I think I could sign her present. What if she has a photograph and then I pay to get it framed?” Relief slid through him. “Yep. That’s the plan.”
“What about us?” Olly asked.
Ace grinned. “You’re on your own, lady. That’s why you should be careful who you hook up with in this town. Brock’s terrible at giving presents.”
She snorted. “I’m well aware of that. I’ve already been the recipient of a practical gift from him.”
Ace held up a hand. “I don’t even want to know what it was.”
“No, you don’t. Let’s just say I’ll let my feet freeze before wearing those in the winter. Ever.”
“Oof.” He winced. Brock Osprey buying boots for a woman. “Oh, Olly, I’m sorry.”
Ophelia smiled, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe I’ll see if I can buy a photograph from May too.”
“Nope. That was my idea. Sorry.” He winked.
“What was your idea?” Brock walked into the room, filling the doorway before stepping inside. He leaned down and kissed Ophelia on the forehead, then straightened, his broad shoulders brushing the edge of the bookshelf.
“What to get Christian and Amka for a wedding present.” Ace felt pretty damn light all of a sudden, the weight from earlier conversations thinning out for a second.
Brock looked at Ophelia. “Do we have any ideas?”
“No,” she said.
“Huh.” Brock tossed a file folder onto his desk.
A knock sounded against the open doorframe. Paige poked her head in, her expression careful.
“Mr. Osprey?”
“Yes, Trooper Johnson?” Ace figured she was talking to him.
“My partner and I were wondering if you’d sit down with us again to answer a couple more questions.”
Great. They were back to this again.
Ace felt the shift in the room. “Not without my lawyer,” he said grimly.
Brock’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the face before lifting it to his ear. “Hey, Doc. What’s going on?” His expression flattened out. “When did you last see her? Okay. No, thanks. You stay at the clinic.”
“What is it?” Paige asked.
Brock tipped his head. “That was May. Ivy Carter didn’t come into work today, and Lance headed out to her house, but she didn’t answer the door. I need to conduct a wellness check.”
Tension wound through Ace. Ivy? What the hell? “Brock—”
“Where’s the sheriff?” came a loud and panicked man from the main room.
Brock pivoted and headed that way with the rest of them following quickly behind. “I’m the sheriff.”
“I’m Greg Thompson.” The man leaned over, sucking in air.
His hair was wild, as was his beard. He looked up and held out his phone.
“My brother just called. They’re fishing up Two Trout Creek, and they found a body.
It’s that nurse named Ivy? We played darts with her last night. Mick says she’s dead.”
Ace sucked in air.
Paige moved toward him. “Did you take her home last night?”
“No.” Greg waved his hands, today wearing a blue flannel over dark jeans. “Not at all.”
Ace exhaled slowly. The truth would come out soon enough, and he might as well get ahead of this now. This completely sucked. “I drove Ivy home last night.”