Alaskan Sanctuary

Also technically true. But he’d made things sound so much worse than they actually were. The kids didn’t interact with the wolves. They helped with things like fencing, preparing meat, landscaping and cleaning pens. Empty pens. She’d never allow one of the teens from the youth group to enter an enclosure without her close, personal supervision. She’d told Ethan as much.

This was bad. Really bad. Her panicked gaze flitted around the page, snagging on words like clear and present danger. Awful words. And apparently her wolves weren’t just a threat to the people of Aurora. He mentioned the neighboring reindeer farm, as well.

That was the final straw. Piper sniffed, and the black newsprint swam before her eyes. She stopped reading, and an awkward, uncomfortable silence fell over the youth pastor’s small office.

Not that Piper blamed the couple for going quiet. What were they supposed to say to the woman who’d apparently brought wolves to the area in order to ravage the townspeople and all of Santa’s reindeer?

She hoped barefoot Ethan Hale did have frostbite. She hoped all ten of his toes fell off.

“We’re so sorry, Piper,” Posy said. “We were there. We saw the work that the kids did. We know they weren’t any more in harm’s way than if they’d been anywhere else outdoors in Alaska.”

Liam leaned across his desk, his face so full of concern that it made Piper feel even worse. “What can we do to help?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. It was too late for help. The damage had been done. People all over Alaska were reading Ethan’s damning words right this very minute. “I just can’t believe it. This isn’t even a news article. It’s an attack on the sanctuary. It’s full of opinions. Biased, inflammatory opinions with no basis in fact. I thought journalists were supposed to be impartial. He can’t do this, can he? He just can’t.”

But he already had.

“It’s an op-ed piece. That’s why it’s in the editorial section.” Liam nodded at the top of the page, where EDITORIAL was printed in large block letters.

Piper blinked back a fresh wave of tears and glanced at the articles surrounding Ethan’s piece on the sanctuary. “But I don’t understand. Mine is the only negative article on this entire page.”

“I know. I’ve actually never seen such a strongly worded piece in the Yukon Reporter.” Posy turned toward Liam. “Have you?”

“Not that I recall,” he said. “Something just doesn’t seem right with this entire scenario.”

Nothing was right about it. Absolutely nothing. “This will destroy me. People won’t want to come see the wolves anymore. Not after this. And I can kiss my donations goodbye. Who in their right mind would want to give money to an organization that ‘poses a clear and present danger to the community at large’?”

Nobody. That’s who.

Beside her, Posy sighed. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. It’s an op-ed piece, as Liam said. By definition, that means it’s an opinion. And this reporter is only one person.”

“But he’s one person with a voice that can reach the entire town. Folks know him. They respect him. Other than you two and the kids in the youth group, I don’t really know people here. I’m new in town, remember?”

Posy’s delicate eyebrows furrowed. “What you need is another voice, one to tell your side of the story. A voice that can explain why the wolves are important and why they aren’t dangerous.”

Liam nodded. “Posy’s right. Maybe you can contact the editor and ask him to send another reporter out to the property. Actually, I know someone who used to work for the Yukon Reporter. Ben Grayson. He’s a dog musher now, so he might be a little more sympathetic to your cause.”

It was a kind offer, but it would take too long. Something needed to happen. Now. Before Ethan Hale’s ill-formed opinion became accepted as truth. “You’re right. What I need—what the wolves need—is another voice.”

“Do you want me to give Ben Grayson a call?” Liam reached for his phone.

Piper lifted her chin. She’d driven all the way from Colorado to Alaska with a trailerful of wolves. She’d put the sanctuary together from the ground up. She could do this. “Thank you, but no. After this fiasco, there’s only one person I trust to tell my side of the story.”

Liam set his phone down. “Who?”

“Me.” It was the perfect solution. Who was she kidding? It was the only solution. “I’m going to write the article myself.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_72e5789b-f1d7-5858-93eb-47c981941d06)

The morning after his op-ed piece on the wolf sanctuary appeared in the Yukon Reporter, Ethan began his day as he always did. He got ready for work, then drove the twenty miles from his cabin near Knik all the way back to the coffee bar at the Northern Lights Inn. Aurora was in the opposite direction of his office, which meant he was spending an extra half hour or so in his car just for coffee. But it was worth it. The coffee at the Northern Lights was that good.

Besides, he was up earlier than usual. He hadn’t exactly gotten a good night’s sleep after he’d finally turned in his article.

“Morning, Ethan.” The barista slid a coaster across the smooth walnut surface of the bar and grinned. “What can I get you this morning?”

“A large Gold Rush blend. Black, please,” Ethan said. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” The barista smiled again. Either Ethan was imagining things or Sam seemed more outwardly cheerful than usual.

“So everyone in Aurora is talking about your article. You know...the one about the wolves.” Sam eyed him over the top of the espresso machine.

The one about the wolves. It had to be that one? Couldn’t they talk about the piece he’d written about the upcoming city elections or the one about Arctic ice melt season?

“Is that right?” Ethan shifted on his bar stool.

He shouldn’t feel uncomfortable about what he’d written. He absolutely shouldn’t. He’d been doing his job. That was all. His extensive knowledge of Alaskan ecology and wildlife was one of the reasons he’d landed his job at the paper in the first place. They’d asked him to write an educated opinion on the wolf sanctuary, and he’d complied.

He’d done the right thing. The safe thing. The town would be better off without the wolves. So would Piper Quinn. She just didn’t know it.

“Oh, yes.” Sam let out a laugh. “Your article already caused quite a stir around here, and now this morning—”

Ethan’s cell phone rang, cutting the barista off.

It was just as well. Ethan may have had no reason to feel bad about what he’d written, but that didn’t mean he wanted to discuss it with Sam. Or with Tate, who’d left a few voice mails the day before.

Ethan couldn’t keep avoiding his closest friend. Tate probably wanted to make sure he was okay after losing his shoes to a wild animal. There had been an underlying note of concern in his voice in the messages he’d left.

That hint of worry was exactly why Ethan had been reluctant to return his calls. Couldn’t he leave the past dead and buried, where it belonged?

Dead.

Buried.

Ethan’s temples throbbed. He glanced at the display on his phone, expecting to see Tate’s name. It wasn’t. LOU MARSHALL. His editor. “Hello, Lou.”

“Ethan, I’m glad you picked up. I need you to get into the office early today.” He sounded urgent. Even more urgent than he usually did, which was extremely urgent. He was, after all, a newsman.

“How early?”

“As soon as you can get here. We need to talk about this wolf woman. Immediately. Just get here.”

The line went dead.

We need to talk about this wolf woman.

Super.

Ethan sighed. “Sam, I’m going to need that coffee to go.”