Page 19 of Fire Peak

Has she left town?

I don’t think so. I posted a camera at the only road out, and another one at the airstrip. She’s still here, IMO. Unable to locate her so far.

Then get your ass out of there. Waste of time.

Roger that.

Firelight Ridge had gotten the best of him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to leave without having completed his mission.

But he had no choice.

It left Nick with an empty feeling, not just because he hated not fully completing an assignment, but he’d hoped to set eyes on Charlie one more time.

I’ll get the first flight available once I get to Anchorage.

Good. Call me when you’re en route. We’ll regroup from there.

Oh good. That would be fun. Nick set his jaw, already anticipating the scathing grilling he would undergo. Quite possibly, he was going to get fired from this job.

He wouldn’t care, except for the issue of who they might hire instead.

In his threadbare room at the Lamplight, he quickly packed up his bag, then left a hefty tip for the girl who cleaned the room every couple of days, and who did a terrible job. But she was a great source of information, so he didn’t mind leaving her a hundred dollar bill.

When he checked out, Bethie Lund, the reception clerk, turned the volume down on her TV—unusual for her. “You’re leaving already?”

“I am.”

“But…we thought you might stay for the summer. We have some great bands coming for the bluegrass festival in July. Then there’s the salmon run in Snow River. You can’t miss that.”

“It does sound tempting.” Nick gave her his kindest smile. “You never know, maybe I’ll make it back up here.”

“Well then…” She poised her pen over the reservations calendar. “Do you have a forwarding address?”

“I…that’s an odd question.”

“Is it?” She blinked at him. “We ask all our guests.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“Against what?”

They locked gazes and tried to stare each other down. Man, she was good. This forty-ish Swedish woman, built like a grain silo, didn’t give an inch. And she had his credit card.

Eventually he gave in. “Heading back to Chicago.”

She graciously handed him his card. “Fly safe.”

The long gravel road back to civilization made him remember the exhilarating chase the other direction, when he had Charlie in his crosshairs. Her long blond hair caught by the wind, the tense set of her slim shoulders, the wild rush of anticipation of coming face to face with her again.

“I’ll see you again, Charlie,” he murmured out loud. “Pretty damn sure of that. One way or another.”

As soon as he reached the turnoff at Klutna, his phone gave off a series of dings as it picked up cell service.

An unknown number from an Alaska area code caught his eye. Missed call. Voicemail. He played it.

Charlie’s throaty voice filled the car. “Leaving so soon, Nick Perini? We didn’t even get a chance to catch up.”

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