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

small front deck of the house. Without hesitating, because she suspected if she hesitated she’d get back into the car and ask Clay to drive straight back to Moose Haven, she knocked on the door.

Waited.

The door opened slightly and a woman she’d guess to be in her midfifties looked at both of them. “Yes?” Summer detected a slight European accent, something that was common in Anchorage and other parts of Alaska. In this woman’s voice, it sounded almost musical.

“Mrs. Hunt?”

“Yes?”

She opened the door slightly farther after they mentioned her name. Summer realized she shouldn’t waste time before explaining who they were. The woman’s life had just been changed by violence. She was probably going to be slightly suspicious of anyone she didn’t know.

“I’m Summer Dawson. I wanted to ask you some questions about your daughter.” The words spilled out before she could decide if that was the best way to approach saying who she was.

“Jenna?”

“Yes.” Summer nodded.

“The police have been here. You’re not the police.”

“No. I’m not. I’m...” She weighed her options, then decided to take a chance with full honesty. “Police think the same man tried to kill me.”

Her eyes and the door both widened. “Come in. And your friend?”

“Clay. He’s a former police officer who’s my full-time protection at the moment.”

The older woman nodded and moved aside.

Summer walked inside the house.

“Please, have a seat.” She motioned to a couch and Summer sat. Clay sat beside her. She was grateful for the fire in the fireplace, since she’d started to shiver slightly. While she wasn’t convinced it was from the weather, since it wasn’t cold or rainy outside, the heat might help anyway.

Mrs. Hunt sat across from them. “Why don’t you tell me why someone who isn’t a police officer needs to ask me questions.”

Summer weighed her words. She hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be to talk to people who had been so personally affected by the man who was after her. Here she was, doing what she’d planned, taking charge and getting involved, and right now all she could do was sit there.

“I just... I need to see if I can find any answers to explain why this is happening. Maybe help find the man responsible.”

The other woman studied her. “You seem, Summer, like the kind of person who has her own grief. You’re careful in how you talk to me. I can tell that.”

Avoiding Clay’s eyes, Summer shrugged. The woman could read people, Summer would give her that. But she wasn’t there to talk about past griefs. She wasn’t even there to make the woman feel better about her own, though if she somehow could she’d certainly be happy to know she had done so. She was there for answers.

Mrs. Hunt shifted in her seat, leaned forward and rested her elbows on her legs in a graceful gesture. “Tell me about yourself first.”

“Um...” Summer fumbled for words. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She had her questions, on another page of her notebook, written down, ready to show how she could help in this investigation rather than being the one person everyone else was protecting. Not that she minded being kept alive—she appreciated that part. But she was tired of being treated with kid gloves. Again.

If only it was the first time people had seen her as a victim. At least this time she wasn’t to blame. That first time, she’d been a victim of her own life choices.

“Please.” The older woman smiled and Summer sighed.

“I’m twenty-eight. I live in Moose Haven, with my family. We run a lodge.” She glanced at Clay, noticing how carefully he seemed to be listening. Did he want to know more about her? Summer knew it was silly to wonder. It wasn’t as though anything could come of any possible interest. But she still wanted to know—did he have any interest in her? Or did he just see her like so many other people did at the moment, as someone to protect?

She turned her attention back to Mrs. Hunt. “I love Alaska. It seemed like your daughter did too from her Facebook profile.”

Mrs. Hunt nodded. “She was a fan of yours, you know.”

“Of mine?” Summer shook her head. “I haven’t done anything in years.”

“But you were a mountain runner back in the day, weren’t you? Jenna followed your career. You weren’t too far apart in age and she was amazed at all you accomplished, starting with those records you broke back in high school.”

Once again, the tables were uncomfortably turned. Summer had researched this victim and her family but it had never dawned on her they would know details about her life.

“I was. Yes.”

“You still are.”

“Why do you say that?” Why was this woman insisting on talking about Summer?

“I think it’s a gift God gave you. You can’t just ignore it. It’s still part of who you are.”

Summer didn’t know what to say.

Mrs. Hunt smiled slightly. “I just felt like I was supposed to tell you that. Now, let me tell you about my Jenna.”

For the next ten minutes she shared information about her daughter. Summer didn’t think that all of it was relevant to the investigation, though she supposed there was a chance it could prove useful later. But a lot of what she said did pique her interest. She and Jenna had been in a lot of the same circles, even though they had never met. She ran 5Ks, hiked almost every weekend, rain or shine, and many of her favorite hikes were Summer’s favorites too. She wrote a note to herself in her notebook to follow up on that possible lead. Did they both hike those mountains consistently enough that someone could have targeted them both because of it? And did the other victims share their love for those hikes?

If anything, this visit was leaving her with more questions than answers, but at least Summer felt like they were making progress. They were on the right track.

“I appreciate you talking to us today,” Summer