Page 30 of Cold Light of Day

“No way of knowing. Let’s see if he has ID on him.” She dug around in his pockets and came up empty. “If he can be identified as an associate of Acosta, then we can strongly suspect he took the shot. But that still leaves a lot of questions.” She took a closer look at the body. “He has a knot on his head. He might have tried to flee but got caught in the mudslide.”

She let her gaze drift to the surrounding rough terrain.

“In the dark,” Craig said. “Maybe he slipped, hit his head, and drowned in the creek.”

“I don’t see another wound on him, so that’s my assessment too,” she said.

Fleeing into the wilds of Alaska on a stormy night had taken the man down.

“Fortunately for you, Chief, it’s out of your hands. You don’t need to worry about it anymore. The state boys will handle it all.”

She cut a glance to Craig, then focused on the swollen creek. Had he been smirking? Autumn bristled at his words and his attitude. Whose side was he on, anyway? While, technically, Craig spoke the truth—her responsibility ended at the city limits—she wasn’t about to let this go. Her job was to keep her community safe. She would get her answers, one way or another, and secure Shadow Gap while she was at it.

By the next day, any lingering outside law enforcement that had assisted in the manhunt had finally cleared out of town, and the shadows grew long in Autumn’s small office as midnight approached. Exhaustion weighed on her as she sat at her desk and stared at the image of the man they had pulled from the creek. At first, Autumn wasn’t completely convinced he was their guy. But they’d retrieved a rifle downriver from him and the ammunition to go with it—still, who in Alaska didn’t carry a firearm? Ballistics would have to match his gun to the bullet that went through Ross and lodged in the ground near the cabin. Alaska State Troopers judicial services had also done her the favor of transporting Acosta from her small jail to Anchorage.

Like Craig had enjoyed saying—it was all out of her hands, including the body.

As for the man they’d found in the swollen creek, he was identified as Oscar Evans, a Brit and known associate of Acosta. She figured that was all she would get out of the troopers, but the two men from opposite sides of the world were found in her region of remote Alaska, so she needed to know who they were dealing with. Why had they been here? To find those answers, Autumn would continue to dig.

Now she understood how local police felt when the FBI swooped in and took over an investigation. She would keep her finger on the pulse of what was going on. She didn’t believe in coincidence, and that philosophy solidified her feeling thatthe recent incidents were only the beginning and not the end. Her best option was to keep her guard up and be prepared for what could come next.

She’d carefully documented every facet of what had happened since the day she arrived back from Anchorage.

Tomorrow Autumn would follow up with Sarah, who’d been discharged from the hospital, so she would have to track her down. Catching the shooter took priority, so Autumn had been waylaid from her other investigations. Granted, if she worked in law enforcement anywhere else, the issues would be ongoing and her work probably filled with murder, domestic violence, and armed robbery every single day. She had long suspected that Dad had moved them from Topeka because he wanted a quiet, peaceful environment with less crime where he could enjoy more time with his kids.

She hoped that when she got home at this hour, she’d find her father asleep in his bed, snoring away. And if he wasn’t? She wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation, or to be his psychological crutch. Even if Dad was asleep, she wouldn’t be able to sleep despite the exhaustion.

Birdy and Ike were always a soothing balm to her aching soul, and if someone was up at the restaurant, she could use encouraging words. Her grandparents were workaholics and went to bed late and got up super early, and they loved every minute of their lives.

Autumn hiked across the empty street, and just as she got along the boardwalk, she heard footfalls. She paused, the hair prickling along her neck. Pulling her weapon out, she held it at the ready and turned to take in her surroundings.

Again, she heard the steps. In the alley this time. She crept over to peek between the walls of the buildings. “Who’s there?”

No one answered.

She shined her flashlight around. A ruckus came from the back of the restaurant. Someone in the garbage can. A bear?Her grandfather? Heart pounding, she rushed down the alley, leading with her flashlight and Staccato P.

“Who’s there?” she called again.

Autumn cleared the corner.

Her grandfather dropped the garbage but raised his .45 pistol, startling her.

She lowered her gun and gasped. “You scared me!”

“What are you doing back here?” His gravelly voice sounded breathless. She’d scared him too.

“I heard something—someone in the alley.”

“It could have just been me. I heard something, thought it was a bear.”

“Is that why you almost shot me?”

“I...no...your grandmother insists I take protection in case the bear that’s been snooping around is out here. He comes out at night to avoid people.”

“If you have a bear problem, let the wildlife troopers know. That’s part of their job. And why don’t you use bear mace instead? Or a paintball gun? Nonlethal and sends them running without hurting them.”

“Or makes them angrier. Now, answer me—what are you doing out at this time of night?” He lifted a brow, but something in his wise old eyes told Autumn that he’d already heard about the day she’d had. He turned and gestured for her to follow. “You can tell me about it over coffee or warm milk. Your choice.”

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