A grave denied Read Online Free PDF Page B

had the tacit approval of the law in the Park, in the person of state trooper Jim Chopin, who was currently involved in a building project of his own. Yes, the troopers were opening a post in Niniltna, staffed by the aforesaid Chopper Jim, an event that in Kate’s eyes drastically shortened the twenty-five miles of road between the village and the homestead. It seemed to have a distinct effect on the regularity of her heartbeat and respiration, too, so she tried not to dwell on it.
     
    “Okay,” she had said. “We’ll build you your own cabin.”
     
    Johnny had been prepared for everything but capitulation. “What?”
     
    She grinned. “But,” she said, and she leveled a forefinger for emphasis, “you eat here, you hang mostly here, and I’m consulted if and when there are any overnight guests.”
     
    “That works both ways,” he replied smartly.
     
    She got up to rinse out her mug in the sink. “Dream on,” she said to the window, and had hoped that he hadn’t noticed the flush beneath the brown of her skin. The only downside to Johnny living with her was that now she had a witness when she embarrassed herself.
     
    She was recalled to the present by the sun going behind the tops of the trees. The stone seat had gone cold, and she slid to her feet and walked back to the cabin. With Len Dreyer dead, she was going to have to put Johnny’s cabin up herself. This would require a rearrangment of her summer to-do list, some of which might have to be put off until the following year. She’d like to catch whoever killed Len Dreyer herself, and roast him — or her—over a slow fire.
     
    She was on the doorstep, kicking the mud from her shoes, when a movement caught the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw a tall man enter the clearing. “Oh shit,” she said beneath her breath.
     
    Mutt burst from the clearing and launched a joyful assault. The man laughed, trying to dodge out of the way of an enthusiastic tongue. When Mutt liked, she
liked.
     
    “What?” Johnny said, appearing in the doorway, a pen behind his ear, one finger marking his place in his journal.
     
    “We’ve got company,” she said, and opened the door wide.
     
    The far-too-familiar shark’s grin flashed out at her. “Hey, Kate.”
     
    “Jim,” she said.
     
    The grin, if anything, widened. “Your lack of enthusiasm is duly noted,” he told her. “Hey, Johnny.”
     
    “Hey, Jim.”
     
    Kate, noticing the answering smile on Johnny’s face, thought sourly that Johnny was still young enough to be impressed by the crisp blue and gold of the state trooper uniform, not to mention the Smokey the Bear hat. Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Jim in his Smokey hat since before… well, since before last summer in Bering. He was wearing a dark blue ball cap with the trooper insignia on the crown and a noticeable lack of gold braid. And while he wore the uniform shirt, it was tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans, and the shiny half boots had given way to shoepacks, scuffed and muddy.
     
    She looked up and saw him watching her. One dark blond eyebrow raised ever so slightly. She couldn’t help it, the flush crept right up her neck, over the thin white roped scar stretching almost from ear to ear, and into her face.
     
    For some reason, it didn’t amuse him. The smile faded from his face and he said briskly, “I’ve got a job for you, if you’ve got the want ads out.”
     
    3
     
    At minimum, Bush courtesy required that no visitor be turned away without refreshment, and it was, unfortunately, time for dinner. Jim accepted Kate’s less than enthusiastic invitation and settled in on the L-shaped built-in couch, long legs stretched out in front of him with the air of a man entirely at home. Johnny was shaping moose burger into patties. Kate, having drained the fries and put them in the oven to keep warm, and having set the table and otherwise occupied herself in the kitchen half of the cabin, which after all was