Alaskan Mountain Pursuit Elizabeth Goddard (best short novels .TXT) 📖

that word. It wasn’t something anyone wanted to be, a victim, but something about how strongly Summer rebelled against the designation made him wonder if there was more to it in her case, some aspect of her life that he didn’t know about. Which wouldn’t be difficult as he hadn’t known her for a full week yet, though in some ways it felt like he had known her for years.

“Right.”

“But you’ll be there.”

“Yes. I’ll make sure they understand we have to stay together. Your brother wouldn’t want us separated.”

“Just my brother?”

Something about the way she asked it caught his attention—she was not speaking in a coy way at all, her tone was just honest. Like she wanted to know what he thought of her, if he cared. How much of this was a job and how much was because he didn’t want to see her hurt.

Clay didn’t know. He was afraid to let himself think through any of the possible answers.

“I don’t want it, either, Summer. I can keep you safer when I’m with you.” He took a deep breath, determined to make up the ground he’d lost with the hand-holding incident. “It’s my job.” He added the last three words knowing full well he cared more than he would about some random person he felt obliged to protect, which was all Summer had been to him before he had started to get to know her.

“It is. You’re right.”

She grew quiet again and Clay didn’t mind it as much as they entered Anchorage and traffic started to get thicker. They’d hit right about at the morning rush hour, or so it seemed. He wasn’t sure how long rush hour lasted there, he only knew that compared to Treasure Point and Moose Haven, the traffic was thick. He got off the highway when they were well into town and, following the directions he’d gotten from the internet, arrived at the Anchorage Police Department.

“Has Anchorage been working on tracking this guy, or would it be better to talk to the troopers?” Summer asked with a frown after Clay pulled into a parking place in front of the building.

“We’ll talk to both. They have both worked on the cases here in town.”

“So they don’t mind sharing information with each other, things like that?”

Clay laughed. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV. Most law enforcement departments are perfectly happy to have more manpower working on a case. Gets through evidence faster, prevents some backlogging.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything more.

They entered through the front doors and Clay told the receptionist who they were there to see. The detective Noah had told him to ask for came through a security door only a few minutes later. He held it open and motioned for them to enter.

“Clay Hitchcock? Summer Dawson? I’m George Walters. Thank you for coming. We’ve been hoping to talk to you, but it didn’t sound initially like you’d be able to make the trip up from the Kenai. Did your drive go well?”

“No traffic, roads were great,” Summer confirmed.

“It’s nice that the snow is melted now.”

“It is. It’s tricky getting up here in the winter.”

Clay hadn’t considered that, but when he thought about it, he realized the Seward Highway, which they’d just taken, was the only road between the whole Kenai Peninsula—not just Moose Haven but also five to ten other medium-sized towns, he’d guess from the maps he’d looked at—and Anchorage.

“If you’ll both come to my office.” He stopped at a doorway and motioned them inside. Clay stopped to let Summer go first and she did so, and then he followed.

“Thank you again for meeting with us,” Clay said as he sat. “We had another incident last night and wanted to make sure everyone working on this case had as many details as possible.”

“Chief Dawson told me some of it this morning, though not specifics. I wanted to get those from Miss Dawson firsthand. I appreciate you both making the trip—anything that could help us make some progress.” Walters ran a hand across his forehead as he shook his head. “I don’t like knowing this guy is out there somewhere. I don’t feel like any of the women in our city are really safe—or apparently the entire area.” He looked at Summer.

She didn’t say anything but Clay thought she looked a little nervous. He decided he’d better talk first. She could answer questions once Walters asked some.

“Do you guys happen to have any idea why he might have moved onto women on the Kenai?”

Walters seemed to weigh his words. “I understand you’re former law enforcement, Clay. So you’ll understand why I can’t answer that question fully. Here’s what I know. We’re working with a profiler at the FBI to try to figure out his motives, try to decipher if his MO might change. The move to another location surprised the guys at the FBI and us too, but there are possible explanations.”

Clay nodded. He could respect if the other man didn’t feel like he could say more since he wasn’t technically an officer anymore. He knew everything Walters did tell him today was a favor.

“Speaking of that subject though, could I ask you a few questions, Miss Dawson?”

“You can call me Summer.” She sat up a little straighter, leaned forward a little, Clay noticed.

“Alright. Summer, do you have any idea who might want to attack you?”

The man didn’t pull punches; Clay liked that.

She shook her head, as Clay had already known she would.

“I have no idea. I’m working on...compiling a list of suspicions I have.”

“Of people the killer could be?” The detective raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you were being so proactive.”

Summer laughed it off, which Clay appreciated. He didn’t feel the other man needed to know the effort Summer, and he by extension, planned to go to find a link between her and the other victims. Since it wouldn’t impede the official investigation and might yield useful clues, some things were just better left unsaid.

“I’m working on figuring out possible