Endless Night

“Right. Stay warm.”

“Roger that.” As he turned off the radio, a movement in the tree line caught his attention.

So what was Jackie doing here now? Under a different name? Clearly she hadn’t planned the trip, showing up in an inadequate jacket with only a duffel bag in hand. And there was something in her eyes, besides the anger and pain. There was a shade of fear. The thought of her being afraid made his breath come up short. Was she in some sort of trouble?

He knew she did not want his help and he would never be able to offer it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things.

As long as he did it from a distance.

FOUR

Jackie floated briefly into wakefulness the next morning to the sound of a plane flying over. She knew it was Roman, on his way to pick up supplies or people at the airport. Part of her felt relieved that he had made it through the unforgiving Alaskan night intact. No one else should lose their lives at this beautiful lodge, even someone she never wanted to see again. She drifted back into another hour of fitful sleep, awaking groggy and dazed.

She lay for a moment, pretending she was on vacation. The fantasy didn’t last long. The threat from her voicemail chilled her. She wrapped herself in her jacket, having left her robe in San Francisco, and checked her phone for messages, calling back to her apartment to check there, too. Nothing. Her stomach knotted into a tight ball. Next she booted up the laptop and sat, foot tapping, urging the machine to work faster.

It finally loaded the messages and she found what she was looking for. Asia had sent a brief message in the late hours of the previous night.

Be at Delucchi’s soon. Mick is well enough to travel. Got to resolve this before it’s too late. When Mick worked at his brother’s practice they had a similar problem. One doctor lost his license for fraudulent billing. Cops thought he was working with a crime ring but never had enough to convict him. Gotta have an airtight case. I’m onto a new lead. We’ll talk soon.

Asia

She was so happy to hear from her friend, the implication didn’t hit her at first. Be at Delucchi’s soon? How had Asia found her? Jackie’s pulse pounded.

Her fingers hammered out a frantic message, hoping her friend was online, praying no one was hacking into their e-mails.

Are you okay? Location?

When no return e-mail arrived she thought about the thumb drive tucked in her bag. Buried somewhere in the data it contained was enough evidence to incriminate the crime ring and Reynolds. It also had plenty of confidential patient information on it. Second, now Jackie was definitely in deep, possessing information she had no right to.

Uncertainty surged through her again. What should she do? Was it safe for Asia to come, with Lloyd watching every move and the threat left on her voicemail? She typed quickly.

Might be trouble here. Don’t come.

She’d just hit the send button when a knock at the door made her jump. She hurriedly closed the file and shut the laptop screen before she went to the door.

Byron Lloyd stood there, bundled in a ski jacket, scarf and hat, stamping up and down to keep warm. “Morning.” His voice thundered through the small cabin. “Heading in for breakfast. Figured you might want an escort.”

He looked past her. “Are you working? Thought you were on vacation.”

“I am. I’m not quite ready for breakfast. I’ll be there in a few minutes. You go on without me.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Quite sure. Go on ahead, please.”

He gave her a jolly smile and headed out, crunching across the newly fallen snow, through the still-dark morning. She watched until he’d entered the lodge and pulled the drapes more firmly closed. She put the thumb drive in her pocket and deleted the e-mail. If Lloyd, or anybody else, came snooping around, they wouldn’t find incriminating documents on her computer. She pulled on the warmest clothes she’d brought and pocketed the thumb drive. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she surveyed the damage of a sleepless night. Shadows under her eyes, freckles standing out in sharp contrast to her pale skin. Sighing, she slicked on some sunscreen and carefully locked the cabin door behind her as she left.

The moonlight shone on the large footprints Lloyd had left as she approached the lodge. What had he said on the plane ride from the airport? She’d been so overwhelmed at seeing Roman she hadn’t listened fully. He was a reporter, covering the Winterfest events for a paper? Magazine? Which one? Had he mentioned a name? She made a decision to find out. Lloyd wasn’t the only one who could ask nosy questions. It made her feel marginally better to go on the offensive, at least with Lloyd.

She could just make out people busy filling front loaders with snow and emptying them into huge wooden boxes in front of the lodge, where the land flattened out for several acres. It clicked in her mind. The snow sculpture competitions would start the next day. Each participant got his or her precisely measured square of compacted snow to fashion a fantastic frozen work of art. She’d watched the competition many years running, always in awe of the talented artists who showed up to win the thousand-dollar prize. Skip had lobbied hard for years to host the competition and he’d finally been successful.

A person loaded up with a stack of boxes approached the lodge. Jackie scooted ahead to hold the door. The figure hesitated for a moment. Jackie shivered when she recognized the man.

“Thanks,” Roman said. “June’s cooking supplies.”

“You’re welcome.” Jackie noticed he seemed thinner than she remembered, but his arms and broad shoulders seemed just as iron-strong as he hefted the heavy crates with ease over the threshold. He disappeared down the hallway and she joined the assorted diners in the family eating-area. A huge fire was crackling and the room was filled with cheerful laughter and conversation. She recognized the honeymooning couple, a portly man and his wife, with skin nearly as white as their matching sweaters, and Byron Lloyd. Purposefully sliding into the empty space next to Lloyd, she filled her plate with scrambled eggs, June’s homemade blueberry scones and succulent sausages.

Her stomach growled and it dawned on Jackie that she hadn’t eaten a full meal since before her flight. She tried not to wolf down the food.

“Did you sleep well, Mr. Lloyd?”

“Like a log. I’ve been traveling for work for the past twenty-five years so I can pretty much sleep on anything. You?”

“Fairly well. It must be exciting to be a journalist.” Jackie noticed a sour-faced Fallon seating herself at the far end of the table.

“You bet. And you? What’s your line of work?”

She’d been ready for the question. “I’m between jobs right now. I’ve often thought about writing.”

He laughed. “Most folks I meet say the same thing. What was your job back home?”

She ignored the question. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. How did you get into the writing business, Mr. Lloyd?”

“Call me Byron.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’ve done all kinds of things, just sort of fell into it.”

“And what publication did you say you wrote for?”

“Adventure Roads. It’s a nice little rag.”

Jackie felt a presence at her elbow. She kept her body turned toward Lloyd, determined to wring more information out of the man, who she knew was not who he seemed to be.

Roman stood, shifting uneasily, a plate in his hands. Surely there was another place at the table somewhere. He found the benches filled with happy, munching people. The only available spot was next to Jackie, who seemed to be grilling Byron Lloyd. Roman was just about to turn around when Lloyd spotted him.

“Hey, young fella. Here’s a seat for you.” Lloyd shifted over and cleared a place between himself and Jackie.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat in the kitchen.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said June Delucchi, replacing an empty platter of sausages with a steaming new batch. “The kitchen is insane. I’ve got breakfast going out and lunch already simmering, plus the baking to start for the snow-sculpture crowd. If you eat in there, you’re liable to wind up in the stew pot.”

Mr. Lloyd beamed. “Better not cross a lady with a knife collection.”

Roman shot a glance at Jackie, who kept her gaze studiously fastened to her coffee cup. Sighing internally, he eased onto the bench, his arm tingling where it brushed against hers.

Lloyd clapped him on the back. “So, you two know each other, huh?”

Roman filled his mouth with eggs and nodded.

“Ever travel back to San Fran to visit her?”