Page 13 of Midnight Secrets

My breath fogged, sweeping past my face as I ran through the darkened streets of Parker’s Landing. Icy fire seared my lungs as I inhaled deep breaths of the cold air, but I didn’t mind. It helped to clear my head.

I’d lain awake for hours last night, mulling over details of the Hammond case. I couldn’t find the husband. Every phone number I called either went to voicemail or there was no one at that location by that name. I’d called both hotels in Boston that Claire Holmes mentioned in her message. Neither had a guest registered under Hammond’s name. There wasn’t even a booking for the couple.

To cover my bases, I emailed a picture of Warren Hammond to the heads of security for both places. They said they’d keep an eye out, but I didn’t hold out much hope he was there.

If Hammond didn’t murder his wife and then run, he was dead somewhere. Or running from someone who wanted him dead.

I sucked in another lungful of icy air, willing the returning thoughts away and forcing my mind onto something else.

I cycled through my morning to-do list. Number one was making sure Marie Hammond’s body left the county morgue andheaded to Anchorage for autopsy. After that, I planned to book a flight there for a couple of days from now so I could observe the procedure. Once I had my travel squared away, I would file requests for the Hammonds’ financial information and phone records. If the warrants were ready. I filed for them yesterday afternoon, and they should be through. Then I needed to go to the school where Marie Hammond taught and interview her colleagues.

Or that might happen before I put in the records request. It all depended on those warrants. Things moved more slowly here than in North Carolina. It wasn’t because of less urgency. There just weren’t the personnel to get things done any faster. As a special detachment of the state police, I was the only detective on the small police force here. Most of the legwork for this case I would do alone. Though the chief said I could borrow an officer when needed. If I needed more expertise, I could call Juneau’s police department or bring in the big guns from the other state offices in Juneau or Anchorage. It was a much different way of policing than I was used to.

My jogging route carried me around the corner toward Claire Holmes’s house. Her windows were still dark, which didn’t surprise me. I’d set out a little earlier this morning since I’d been unable to sleep.

I still couldn’t believe the put-together professional I’d met at the Hammonds’ was the same hot-pink slippered, bathrobed woman I encountered running down the sidewalk after her little Yorkie in the dark yesterday. The two images just didn’t jive.

Both were appealing, though.

Claire Holmes was a beautiful woman, no matter what she wore.

But she’s a witness, my internal voice reminded me.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

Like I was really looking for a relationship.

I’d been in town a month. And I hadn’t moved here to find a woman. There had been plenty of those in North Carolina. I was here to build a deeper adult relationship with my brother. We were the only family each other had left after our Mom died last year. Ellis had another couple of months until his stint in the U.S. Coast Guard was over, then he planned to take over a commercial fishing vessel from a friend.

I couldn’t imagine him as a full-time fisherman. Right now, he was a machinery technician and spent his days repairing ship engines and hydraulics. It would be interesting to see him go from that to catching fish.

Jogging past Ms. Holmes’s house, I continued around the block to the path that took me along the water through a local park.

It sure was beautiful here.

At this hour, there wasn’t much to see. Some lights glistening off the rippled water of the bay. But once the sun came up, I knew the sea would be alive with fishing vessels of all colors and sizes. That eagles and gulls would swoop overhead, looking for an easy meal. I loved the salty smell that permeated the air and the sound of the birds squawking. I’d been a mountain boy all my life, but living on the ocean felt right.

It helped that I hadn’t sacrificed the mountains for my new home. They ringed the entire region, so close I felt like I could step out my door and hike up one.

Maybe in the summer I would.

Meandering through the park, I turned toward home, ready to get back where it was warm. My nose felt like a popsicle. The rest of me was fine. It was just my nose. I needed to invest in a treadmill before next winter. When I first arrived, I’d been too busy to do more than lift weights and maybe take a quick sprint on the treadmill at the police gym. Once the weather warmed some, I started running outside.

The first week or so, I kept the runs short. It was just too chilly for my southeastern U.S. blood. But I gradually acclimated and the weather had warmed enough I could go more than a mile or two. I was up to five, which is what I typically ran back home.

My nose still froze, though.

Reaching my house, I let myself inside, savoring the heat that enveloped me. In my living room, I did some stretches, then went to the kitchen, guzzling a bottle of water before heading upstairs to shower.

Clean and dressed in the department’s standard uniform, I made breakfast, then headed out to my car for the short trip to our small police station.

The engine of my gray four-by-four, heavy-duty truck roared to life. Cold air blasted from the vents, but I knew it would soon warm up. This car had been a great purchase. Before I left North Carolina, I sold the small SUV I had, knowing that one, the cost to ship a vehicle was ridiculous, and two, I would need something more robust up here. Something I could put a kayak in or a load of wood. This truck was a few years old, but the mileage was low, and it ran like a dream.

Making my way along Glacier Highway, I drove the two miles to work. I could have run, making it part of my morning exercise routine, but there was one shower at the station, and the water never got past lukewarm. Plus, the weather here could be unpredictable. Not to mention the risk of stumbling over wildlife. Animal encounters weren’t unusual even near people’s homes, but I had to pass through about a mile of vacant land to get to the station. I preferred to stick to the neighborhoods near my house, where I was less likely to encounter a moose.

Water splashed under my tires as I drove through a puddle turning into the station’s parking lot. I found a space near the backdoor, then headed inside.

The scent of cinnamon and coffee hit me the moment I walked in. Even though I’d eaten, my stomach rumbled. Riggs’s wife liked to bake. At least once a week—usually more—she sent him in with a pan of something.

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