Page 159 of One Last Chance

“I am now,” Axel said, tightening his hold on Flynn.

Deke nodded and followed his men.

“You’re not going anywhere, Sparrow.”

She put her arms around his neck, her eyes shining. “Nope.”

Then she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him. Slow and perfect and lingering, something meant for heroes and happy endings, stilling all the what-ifs in his heart.

And behind them, the Copper River sang a song of applause as the stars came out and smiled.

CHAPTER16

Maybeshewas the phoenix.

Flynn sat on the deck of Moose’s amazing log home overlooking the Knik River, the smell of steaks grilling, some soft guitar strums from Oaken Fox, and the Air One Rescue team razzing Axel about his big appearance onGood Morning, Alaska!

Sure, he had fans, but she was president of the club, with first-in-line rights to his wry smile, those arms around her, the husky timbre of his voice in her ear. To the guy on the other side of the phone late at night or on her doorstep with donuts in the morning, greeting her on her way to her new job in the investigative support unit of the Anchorage Police Department. She didn’t know exactly what strings Moose had pulled to land her a detective position alongside his cousin Dawson. It had included a phone call from Chief Burke, no doubt—but she didn’t hate the changeup.

Mostly, she now parlayed her river-monster skills into hunting down kidnappers, robbery suspects, and vehicle hijackers.

And none of them crept up on her in her sleep.

More, she spent her evenings with Axel or hanging out at the Tenderfoot Bar and Grill.

Watching the sunsets becoming deeper, darker, more beautiful with each twilight.

“Here you go,” Axel said and handed her a pop. He sat next to her on the outdoor sofa, his arm over the back, and held his can up for a toast. “Moose runs a dry house here, so it’s the best we can do.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Those steaks smell amazing.” She glanced over to where Moose stood at the grill, smoke curling out. He wore an apron and held a grilling fork, and the sight reminded her of Danny Mulligan.

“I didn’t realize you guys were related to Danny and Bets.”

She’d only made that connection when her parents came out a week ago to visit Kennedy. They’d met Axel and deduced the connection.

“Distant, but yeah, small world.” He put an arm around her. Below, the river glistened under the rising moon. “Feels a shame that you just arrived and now you’re going to be in darkness for six months.”

“Not quite yet, and really, I’m not afraid of the dark.”

He looked at her.

“Especially now that the real Midnight Sun Killer is in custody. Or rather,bothof them.”

Axel nodded, but pain entered his eyes. “Poor Laramie.”

“Who’s he with?” Flynn asked.

“Hudson Bowie for now. His mother hasn’t shown up, so who knows where she is? They’re petitioning the court for temporary custody.”

London dropped into a chair, one leg pulled up. “That was some good sleuthing.” Her comment sounded almost haunted. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Something my mentor said to me—look at the first victim. Jennifer Greene. Age 29, summer worker at the Bowie resort. She disappeared about two weeks after she arrived, about a week before Aven Mulligan went missing. Her car was found by the side of the road, the back bumper damaged, no hint of why she’d abandoned it. Forensics on it suggested paint from a Ford pickup truck, but Alaska, and especially Talkeetna, is lousy with Ford pickups, so that wasn’t a good lead until I remembered Wilson Bowie’s supposedly stolen blue Ford. And then something Shasta said—about Wilson being missing during the hunt for Aven. I started to wonder—so I called around to body shops in Anchorage and found one that had repaired a blue ‘84 Ford 150 pickup during that week. Belonged to the Bowie resort.”

Silence.

“What I can put together is that somehow, Jennifer Greene and Wilson Bowie got into an accident. Maybe it was intentional, maybe not. Maybe she was wounded. There was no sign of a struggle at the scene, so maybe she went with him willingly. She probably knew him because he’d been up at the resort, fishing and helping his nephews, and probably his son, Dillon. I’m not sure if Dillon was with him for the abduction of Jennifer or if Dillon just happened upon his dad while looking for Aven a week later.”

She glanced at Axel, who she’d never really outlined all this for. Took his hand. “Aven survived the river and got out. And I think she must have gone south, looking for help. My guess is that Aven found the cabin and maybe even found Jennifer tied up. I think Wilson caught her, took Aven captive, and that she broke free and Wilson chased her through the woods—hence the gunshot wound. And the MO. Maybe Dillon witnessed it, or maybe just saw it after the fact, but he didnotknow that she wasnotsexually assaulted.” She looked back at Axel.“Not.”

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