Page 10 of Wind Valley

“Legend.”

Lachlan wished he could remember who had told him all that, but it wasn’t coming back to him. It must have been an elder, or one of his colleagues who worked with the Ahtna, like Victor Canseco.

If it was Victor, well, that might be a problem. Victor was tied up with investigations related to the crazy things that had gone down at Smoky Lake this past fall. He was back in Fairbanks now, keeping his distance from everyone in Firelight Ridge. Lachlan thought he was probably embarrassed and ashamed, because every time he reached out, Victor politely ended the contact.

They passed the two gas pumps—one for diesel, one for gasoline, neither with a credit card reader—and headed for the side door entrance to Gunnar’s automotive shop. In the warmer months, Gunnar could often be found shooting the breeze with customers out in the sunshine. But in the winter, he stuck to his shop with its big barrel stove.

Warmth welcomed them inside. Lachlan knew it was warm only by comparison to the outdoors, since it would be impossible to make this large and barely insulated space truly toasty. The smell of diesel and, oddly, cinnamon greeted them.

“Yo, brothers,” called Gunnar from under a rusty Ford Pinto hoisted onto a lift. “Come on in. Got a pot of apple cider on the camp stove. Help yourselves. Just gotta pack this bearing and…” The rest of the words disappeared into the sound of wrenching.

Gil and Lachlan walked across the stained concrete floor toward the camp stove set up on a sheet of plywood atop two sawhorses. Gil plucked two paper cups from a stack and ladled cider into them. Bits of cinnamon stick and star anise floated on the surface.

“Damn, that’s good.” Gil finished his cider off in one gulp, while Lachlan savored the steamy fragrance. Even though they were twins, they had a million small differences like that one—along with several big ones, of course.

Lachlan offered to pour some of his cider into Gil’s cup, but Gil waved him off. “It’s not your fault I have no self-control.”

“It’s not about fault. I don’t mind sharing.”

“That’s because you’re the best person.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lachlan said good-naturedly. In his opinion, Gil was the best person, but Gil hated it when he said that. His brother put him on a pedestal, which felt uncomfortable, but Lachlan had learned that it didn’t help to contradict him. Maybe he’d have to rob a bank or something to completely lose the “best person” label.

“What were you asking me out there?”

“Wind Valley. Do you know anything about it?”

Gil frowned and cocked his head. “What have I heard about it? Oh yeah. Sam was talking about Wind Valley. He said none of the local flight services ever go that direction because the air currents are so unpredictable that there’s a high chance of wind shear.”

“Makes sense. What context did this come up in?”

“I don’t really remember. You’ll have to ask him. He and Molly are coming over tonight, you can ask him then.”

“Right, I forgot about that. Game night.”

He wasn’t looking forward to it. The group would be entirely couples except for him. Maybe he should invite Gunnar, he thought morosely as the mechanic came toward them, wiping his hands on a rag.

Lachlan reached for the orange bottle of Gojo hand cleaner and handed it to Gunnar so he didn’t have to lean past them.

“Thanks, man. If you ever want a job as a mechanic’s assist?—”

“No thanks,” Lachlan said before he could finish the thought. “I like staring at soil samples all day, not carburetors.”

“Shh,” Gunnar hissed. “Don’t say that shit around all these engines. They might take it personally.”

Gil and Lachlan both laughed, sounding so similar that Gunnar gave a double-take. The twins definitely had one thing in common—their sense of humor.

“Hey, were you guys talking about Wind Valley? I wasn’t eavesdropping, but sound in this place travels.”

“Have you been there?” Lachlan asked, kicking himself for not asking him first. Gunnar had been born and raised in Firelight Ridge, and there weren’t too many people who fell into that category.

“Sure, when I was a reckless idiot teenager.”

“You mean, a couple years ago?” Gil teased him.

Gunnar gave him a playful punch on the arm. “At least ten. Maybe more. A few of us went camping there once. We lost two tents and a sleeping bag, and if I remember it right, one girl lost her contact lens. It blew out of her eye when she was messing with it.”

“That’s impossible.” Gil looked at Lachlan. “Right?”

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