Alaska Heat

Excerpt

The mountains intimidated Kara Richardson. Fear had seldom made an impact in her life, but these great shaded monsters with deep pockets of ice packed into their valleys couldn’t be ignored. Skagway, last stop on the Inside Pas¬sage, looked so flat and small, so vulnerable by compari¬son. Even with its freshly painted buildings, the evergreens flanking the small commercial core, and early morning visitors peering into store windows, she couldn’t shake the sense that the Klondike-era gold town had been separated from the rest of the world.

Kara tried not to think about the isolation. It was mid-¬May. When and if her brother and father needed her, she could leave here a number of ways. The pilot who’d brought her here recommended one of the cruise ships that churned up and down the icy-gray Lynn Canal—if there was any extra space and if she had the time. The road leading to Whitehorse would work, if she had a vehicle. Otherwise, chartering a plane, although expensive, was the final alternative.

Alternatives. The word rang through her head like a sick joke. Options were something she didn’t have, not if she was going to support her family and, please, learn the truth behind that horrible day three weeks ago.

As she walked along the weathered boardwalk flanking historic buildings that housed gift shops and restaurants, she fought the knot in her stomach. Maybe she was the biggest fool in the biggest state in the nation to be heading toward the construction trailer at the north end of town. For all she knew, the moment Brand Lockwood heard who she was, she’d be without a job and without the money to get home—without understanding Lockwood’s role in the nightmare her family had been trapped in.

But she’d go through with it because doing nothing was incomprehensible.

And, somehow, she’d weather what Lockwood told her about her father.
Turning right, she left the small commercial area and headed toward the outskirts of town. Because she had to walk, she’d left the lodge a good half hour before her appointment. Walking also gave her the time she needed with her nerves. As she neared her destination, a large, cluttered lot next to a warehouse of some kind, she took a deep breath. It would take a lot more than an early morning stroll to put her life back on course.

The trailer she had been told to report to wasn’t more than five or six years old, but time hadn’t been kind to it. Its original color had been sanded away by the elements and little attempt had been made to keep it level. But why bother? She, the rest of the crew, and their boss, would be working on a mountain, not down here. The wooden stairs leading to the side door settled uneasily under her weight. The small sign bearing the no-nonsense word “Construction” had been screwed into place, but one of the screws had worked loose, canting the metal rectangle. She had no idea what waited inside, but whatever came of the meeting, she’d survive it.

She lifted her hand to knock, then paused, her attention momentarily drawn to the small silver band on her little finger. At eight, the ring, a gift from her mother, had been a perfect fit. It, like the cameo necklace resting against her throat, served as precious memories of Holly Crayton. Wondering if her mother might somehow be watching, protecting, Kara knocked on the door.

“Come on in.”

Kara sucked in a breath of chilled, salt-tasting air and turned the handle. For a moment the door stuck, then when she pushed on it, it jerked open. The interior, lit by a bright overhead light, was filled with the trappings of the construction business: tool boxes, hard hats, a hand cart, two-way radios, blueprints, product samples, and di¬rectly under the light, a wooden desk large enough to accommodate the stack of papers on it. Behind the desk stood a man, a large, silent, black-haired man who studied every nuance of her approach with dark, unwavering eyes.