Page 70 of Fire Peak

“That’s him,” said Pinky. “Poor old Bulldog.”

The photo showed a hulking young man with a thick beard, wearing a fishing hat and squinting into the sun. He turned the photo over. On the back, someone had written in block letters, Chadwick Tudor III aka Bulldog, Fangtooth Alaska, 1978.

Bulldog was Chadwick Tudor III?

The name Tudor rang a bell. That name was on art collections and libraries through the greater New York area. That certainly fit with what Charlie had learned, that Bulldog and April had both come from the same world of wealth and privilege.

“Can I keep this photo?” he asked Bear, who nodded.

He tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Maybe he could confront April with it and get her to confess to Bulldog’s murder—or at least to being blackmailed about it by Vasily and his arrow-shooting Chechen minions.

“Any pictures of Vasily?” he asked, without much hope. And in fact, there were none—unless the man in the photo from Solomon’s camper was Vasily.

Hopefully Charlie would get that confirmation soon.

Outside, the sun had dipped behind the ridge, but there was still plenty of light in the sky, and brilliantly lit clouds were collecting at the peaks. The rainclouds seemed to dump their rain in the mountains and never made it to the valley. Here in town, it had been a dry spring, and every time a four-wheeler passed by, a trail of dust would envelope everyone nearby. Rain would be a nice change.

He debated heading over to the hardware store to see if Lila was still up. Maybe he could learn more about Bulldog. At the least, he could warn her that a Chechen dude was asking about the place where she lived.

Digging out his phone, to his shock he saw that it was almost ten thirty. Too late to do anything besides go home and watch the end of Goonies with Hailey.

He wouldn’t even text Charlie with an update because she needed her sleep. Would he ever get used to this never-ending daylight?

He yawned deeply. Man, this cold mountain air really knocked a guy out. Or was that due to getting naked with Charlie?

He’d have to put that question to the test as soon as humanly possible.

Just as he was passing The Magic Breakfast Bus, footfalls behind him had him spinning around, just a fraction of a second too late.

A chop to his neck dropped him to the ground just outside The Magic Breakfast Bus. Through the stars dancing in his vision, he swung his legs around, aiming to trip the person who had clocked him. He heard a grunt from his assailant, then came a vicious kick in his ribs. He grabbed onto the leg that had kicked him and rolled over, trying both to unbalance him—or her—and get a better look.

Black watch cap, pale skin, male Gore-Tex hiking clothes, mid-thirties…definitely the Chechen.

“What do you want?” he rasped. He rolled over again to avoid another kick. “Who are you?”

He shielded his head from another hard kick. His upper arm took the brunt of it; he could practically feel the bruise forming.

“Did you shoot those arrows? Did you throw that smoke bomb? Why are you interested in the hardware store?”

A booted foot slammed him into the ground, face down. He saw scrubby grass, gravel, the big tires of the bus. And then his jacket was getting ripped off his body. Painfully, with no regard for his shoulder joints.

Then the man was gone. Along with his jacket and cash. And the photo of Chadwick Tudor, aka Bulldog. Third jacket down, damn it.

31

A long hot shower did wonders for his bruised body. But still, Nick had trouble getting to sleep. He was unable to keep his brain from trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Some of them seemed to fit.

Chadwick Tudor and April Whitfield had traveled to Alaska together. When he’d been killed, she’d dealt with her grief by building a haven for herself at Fire Peak. She’d left behind the hardware store. So why were the Chechens interested in it?

Why did they care enough to steal that photo from him? Were they the ones who had installed that camera that had been spying on the hardware store? What exactly did they hope to learn from it? Were they interested in it because of Chadwick or because of April? Or both?

So much to tell Charlie.

Charlie…

Thinking of her, with a smile on his face, he finally drifted off.

The sound of her voice woke him up. She was at the door, talking to Hailey. Jesus, what time was it? The blackout curtains in the little bedroom made it impossible to tell.

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