A Night Without End. Susan Kearney
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But who would protect her from him?
AFTER TYLER UNZIPPED his ski jacket, he poured coffee, and Sean glanced at Carlie. Although he caught an alert gleam of speculation in her expression, the effort to hold up her head was costing her. Fatigue crept in around the edges of her eyes and her mouth drew into a tight line of pain. She’d clenched her jaw, but after she caught him watching her, she’d forced her features to relax, as if admitting to pain was a weakness. He couldn’t help but admire her mettle. She was strong, this woman, and he’d long ago discovered that strength often hid powerful passions. He couldn’t help wondering what kind of passions simmered beneath her surface. He also wondered if she thought she’d told him the truth.
She required medical treatment, but first, he had to think of the best way to calm down Roger. Jackson’s brother had one hell of a temper. He loved nothing better than a good fight. Next to fighting, he liked shouting, but once he settled, he had a good heart. And he never held a grudge.
Sean wished he could have a few moments alone with the man. From his clenched fists to the tight cords in his neck, Jackson’s brother appeared as if the grief bottled up inside him was ready to burst. But short of a fistfight, Sean had no way to ease Roger’s grief, fearing even a few kind words might set off Roger in front of the others.
Tyler set the coffee back on the stove, but not before shooting Carlie a look of angry speculation. He, too, had liked and respected Jackson, who had been popular among the men, not just because he was an old-timer and one of the partners in the Dog Mush, but because he had the habit of adopting strays, the lost, the lonely, the forgotten. So even the irreverent Tyler held him in high esteem, and his anger at his murderer was fully justified in his eyes.
Sean next glanced at Marvin. His normally gold-smiling visage was tight, as if having difficulty holding his poker face. Sean had his work cut out for him to defuse the men’s anger. Carlie was a stranger; Kesky’s inhabitants held a natural distrust of outsiders that was common in small towns and more prevalent in the Alaskan wilds.
Not liking the way all three men glared at Carlie and fearing their hostility could erupt into violence, Sean squatted back on his heels and accepted a cup of coffee. “When I called Marvin, I thought she—” he jerked his thumb at Carlie “—was dead, too.”
“Too bad you were wrong.” Roger’s dark brows drew together as he stared at his brother’s body.
“Why did she kill Jackson?” Marvin asked, his gambler’s eyes assessing Carlie with an interest that made Sean’s protective urges kick in.
“She isn’t going to tell,” Tyler said with a superior smirk that he probably thought made him appear worldly but instead revealed a hurt young man trying to be brave after the recent loss of his father in a hunting accident. “I’ll bet she’s claiming she didn’t even do it.”
“I’m not sure she did,” Sean said. At his words, the woman relaxed her body and eased her head back onto the sleeping bag.
Roger finally broke the tense silence. “Care to explain that, boss?”
Three pairs of male eyes locked on Sean as if he had the cabin fever that makes a man insane after spending too long indoors during winter. They all needed time to look at the murder more rationally. Calmly, he sipped his too-hot coffee, relishing the liquid as it burned his tongue.
“Those pretty eyes are playing havoc with your thinking,” Marvin said before Sean replied. “There wasn’t nobody up here except the old man and the girl. Who else could have done in Jackson?”
“There isn’t anyone else here now,” Sean stated with cool logic. “But suppose someone attacked both of them?”
“What are you implying?” Roger asked.
“When I first came into the cave, she looked dead. Maybe our killer made the same mistake.”
“Jeez.” Tyler shook his head in disgust. “I’m not believing my ears.”
“Is that what she said?” Eyes narrowing, Roger clenched and unclenched his fist.
Sean kept his gaze on the men, yet he was very aware of the woman on the sleeping bag. She’d been remarkably quiet during their discussion, not once interrupting to defend herself. He couldn’t fault her judgment and he respected her ability to realize that right now, remaining silent was the better part of valor. If she moved so much as an inch, they’d know it. But she wasn’t trying to escape. Instead she stared at him with pain-filled eyes edged with hope.
He softened his tone. “Look, all I’m saying is that Carlie was injured, too. Other possibilities exist. And I want to look into all of them.”
Tyler nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“You aren’t the law,” Marvin challenged Sean without quite meeting his eyes.
“I should be in charge,” Roger muttered. “He was my brother.”
Sean ignored the interruptions. “Jackson practically raised me from a boy. I want to find his killer just as badly as you, maybe more. But I refuse to jump to any hasty conclusions.”
“Seems to me you’re jumping over backward to give the pretty lady the benefit of the doubt,” Roger complained.
Roger should know better. Jackson’s brother was well aware of Sean’s debt to the old prospector. He’d never forget Jackson’s patience as the man taught him to trap, hunt and solve word problems for school. When a restless boy had complained of homework, it was Jackson who had explained the value of an engineering degree, who helped Sean focus on the future instead of dwelling on the past. Sean would never forget the love Jackson had freely given to a homeless boy. Nor would he forget that Jackson deserved justice.
“She’s even got blood on her sleeve,” Marvin added. “What more proof of murder do you need?”
Tyler pointed rudely at Carlie. “What don’t we let her speak for herself?”
Sean stared the kid down. “She has a knot on her head the size of a goose egg. And she can’t remember anything that happened.”
Tyler’s eyes widened. “Wow! You’re saying she’s got amnesia?”
“How convenient,” Marvin muttered. “Ten to one, she did it.”
“We’re not betting on a poker game here,” Sean admonished him.
“You believe her?” Tyler’s boyish voice rose an octave, indicating how upset he’d become as the news of another death sank in. After his own father’s accident, Tyler had become close to Jackson, often tagging along as the old miner hiked the mountain. Tyler would don his skis and tear down the slope with daredevil enthusiasm.
“Yes.” Sean held Tyler’s stare. “I’m inclined to believe her.”
Tyler dropped his gaze and blinked away a tear. “Mind telling us why, boss?”
Actually Sean minded a lot. He didn’t want to reveal Carlie’s identity and that she was Bill’s widow.
If Carlie hadn’t killed Jackson, then the person who had could be after her, too. Sean had known Bill’s work for customs was dangerous, had speculated the car accident that had taken his life might not have been an accident. During Bill’s assignment in Alaska, the men had fished, hunted and shared stories around a campfire. But Bill had been closemouthed about his cases and now Sean wished he knew more. In fact, how did he know that Bill’s murderer hadn’t followed Carlie to Alaska to kill her, too? Jackson may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Until the real killer was apprehended, Carlie wasn’t safe. Sean needed to keep her where he could watch over her, but how? He felt an obligation to protect his friend’s widow until they learned the truth. He owed Bill his life. When a wall of the mine had collapsed, a timber had trapped Sean. With his air running out, he wouldn’t have survived—but at risk to his own life, Bill had crawled back, dug him out with his bare hands, pried