Page 22 of Cold Light of Day

Later, Dad...

Two miles out of town, Autumn turned off what could barely be called a road, then followed the muddy ruts up a steep hill that led to Hank’s cabin, the lush Tongass growing thicker around her and filling her vision. Maybe if she lived in the dense part of the forest, she’d search for Bigfoot too. She steered right and onto the edge of the one-car road, then parked behind Hank’s old truck, which he’d left sitting as far off the road as possible. The path ended a few yards ahead.

Autumn got out and eyed the forest around her—evergreens mixed with the bright yellows of the cottonwood and birch trees. For a second, she was reminded of Grier’s eyes and how she’d compared them to an eerie forbidden forest. Rain dripped from the leaves and the needles, but other than that, the forest was quiet.

Yep. Eerie.

Getting to Hank’s cabin required a good, exhilarating hike. Fortunately, his trips to and from his truck had created a decent trail, and she wouldn’t have to fight the underbrush along theway. His cabin was about a quarter of a mile in. He lived outside the city limits, and his troubles—technically—fell within the Alaska State Troopers’ jurisdiction, but she considered Hank part of the Shadow Gap community all the same. Wally would probably call her out on having the police department answer such calls. But seriously? This didn’t warrant calling in the Alaska State Troopers, who covered the entire state. Too few of them for too many acres.

Approaching Hank’s dwelling, she again noted the beautiful but eerie quiet. Hank’s cabin was small but included an attached lean-to under which he kept a snowmobile, firewood, and a generator along with other tools required for living in the Tongass.

She knocked on the door. “Hank. It’s Chief Long.” Waiting, she listened, but no sounds came from the cabin. Interesting. Hank knew she was coming, didn’t he?

Ross emerged from the woods, hiking from the trail, and headed toward her.

She smiled, glad to have him join her in talking to Hank. “You must have been right behind me. What’s Hank—”

Gunfire rang out, echoing off the mountains and through the forest. Autumn tensed and grabbed her firearm—a Staccato P4.4 9mm pistol. Ross his Glock 9mm. The sound of gunfire was familiar in Alaska, and guns were discharged for many legitimate reasons, but the gunfire sounded close. That set her on edge since Hank wasn’t where he should be. She’d try his cabin one more time.

“Hank, you in there?” She raised her voice this time. “You wanted to talk to me, remember?”

“Hank. I got the chief out here like you asked,” Ross said.

Shouts echoed through the forest to the west of the cabin.

Autumn shared a look with Ross. “Let’s go,” she said. “I think one of the voices belongs to Hank.”

“What has he got himself into now?” Ross growled and followedher into the woods, rushing through the underbrush, Sitka spruce, cottonwood, birch, hemlock, and cedar trees as they hurried toward the voices.

“Be careful. We don’t need to get accidentally shot by poachers.” Or intentionally shot.

She led Ross, cautiously weaving her way through the foliage but rushing all the same. The shouting died away. She paused to catch her breath and looked at Ross. “There’s another cabin not too far if we continue this same direction.”

“The way sounds echo in the mountains and woods, the gunfire could have come from miles away. The shouts too.”

“Agreed, but we’ll check that cabin first,” Autumn said.

The angry voices started up again.

Ross huffed. “My guess is that someone could have taken up residence there, and Hank has a bone to pick with them.”

“Maybe he found his dog,” Autumn offered. Since she didn’t hear any barking to accompany the voices, she hoped not.

Weapons drawn, Autumn and Ross continued cutting through the woods toward the cabin, and once they neared the dilapidated structure, they slowed their pace and approached with caution. Ross crept behind her as she slowed to a stop, taking in the surrounding woods and the cabin about twenty yards ahead through the trees.

“The chief’ll be here soon. Come on out.” Wearing an old green Army jacket and a knit cap over his long, greasy gray hair, Hank stood behind a tree, holding his hunting rifle.

From behind another tree Autumn spoke up and made her presence known. Surprising Hank or the man in the cabin could get her or Ross shot. “What are you doing taking the law into your own hands, Hank?”

Now that he knew she was here, she peered around the tree. Hank acknowledged her, so she crept up beside him.

He turned his attention back to the cabin, which had deteriorated into nothing more than old rotting logs cobbled togetherwith the roof caved in on one side. He didn’t take his eyes off the cabin as he answered. “He started it.”

“Right. Looks like you’re the one to me.” Ross remained behind a thick spruce trunk near them, though Autumn could see him.

“Doesn’t matter who started it. We can sort it out later,” she said. “Hank, what’s this guy’s name?”

“No clue.”

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