Chapter Four

The distance from the police station to the crime scene couldn’t have been more than four blocks, but the officers arrived on scene in record time. When they radioed their status, no laughter echoed in the background. Owen remained on site while the investigators and Carducci returned to the station.

Dispatchers video tape the trip the prisoner takes once he enters the station until he arrives at the jail cells upstairs. I turned on the camera and watched as White turned the blood-soaked suspect toward it.

“State your name,” White demanded.

“You know my fucking name.”

White tightened his grip on the man’s arm and said, “State your name.”

“Fuck you, tunik.”

“Funny, how three-quarters of the folks arrested have the same name, don’t you think?” White asked Clawson.

“Yeah, those Tuniks are one prolific family,” Clawson answered.

From the confused look on the bloody man’s face, he knew the officers were having fun at his expense, but he wasn’t quite bright enough to figure it out.

“What do you mean? Tunik isn’t my last name. It’s you. You people. You’re tunik.”

“So, Fuck You, what’s your last name, then?” Clawson asked.

White and Carducci laughed, which upset the bloody man even more.

“I’m Billy Joe Leavitt, you fucking idiots.”

“Gotcha. Mr. Leavitt, please come with me.” White led Billy Joe through the back hall, up the stairs and into the back entrance of the jail where he handed Billy Joe off to Daniella Frick, a corrections officer.

Joe stepped into dispatch and quietly asked, “What does tunik mean?”

“I believe the original meaning was ‘non-native’ or ‘outsider.’ Now it’s a racial slur similar to the ‘N’ word.”

The buoyant newbie from the airport had been replaced by hardened cop complete with scowl and a don’t-mess-with-me expression.

“Are you okay? What happened out there?”

He walked past me, sagged in the other chair, and started to launch into his story when Bernadette showed up.

“White called and said you got the guy, Carducci. I need to hear how this happened. Meet me in the squad room.”

“Be right there, boss.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for the brownies. They saved the day.” He left the room, and I admit I admired his departing form.

Man knew how to fill out a pair of jeans.

By eight A.M. all the officers had returned to the station and three people were in custody—the two guys from the shooting in Kaktovik and our friend the murderer.

Usually, shift change consisted of a couple of reports of barking dogs and maybe a rowdy party or two. A shoot-out in Kaktovik, MERT deployment, Search and Rescue helicopter flights in search of a suspect and the newbie arresting the murderer made for a more interesting change out. When the briefings ended, one of the day shift officers gave Carducci and me a ride to our apartment building. Exhaustion had seeped into my bones. Carducci appeared so tired a kitten could’ve knocked him over, but I felt obliged to ask. “Would you like some breakfast? It’s been a long night for you.”

I figured he’d refuse, but he surprised me with his, “Sure.”

“Great. Come on in.” I mentally scanned the contents of my fridge and freezer as I unlocked the door. “Coffee?” I offered.

“God, no. I’ve had too much already.”

“Yeah, me too.” Nelson and Cash careened out of the bedroom and slammed into me, meowing the whole way. “Morning, boys.”

“That’s some welcoming committee.” Carducci laughed, and the cats turned their attention to him.

“Hard to feel unloved when you have furry friends.”

“Unloved?” he asked. Nelson clawed him on the hand, distracting Carducci enough I didn’t have to answer.

Stupid. Stupid. Why did I let things like that slip?

I went into the kitchen and found all the necessary ingredients for a frittata. Butter melted in the pan as I cleaned and sliced potatoes into very thin pieces. As the potatoes browned, I chopped bacon and onions and threw them into the skillet. I cracked eggs into a bowl, added milk, whipped them until they were creamy and poured them over the potatoes.

I’d made Irish soda bread for a party the month before and froze a leftover loaf. I sliced it and toasted it while the eggs cooked. Some sliced oranges completed the meal. I set the table then walked into the living room.

Carducci slept on my oversized sofa making it look small and insignificant. The cats had made themselves comfy on his chest.

God, he’s good looking. And you’re not, so quit admiring him. I touched my crooked nose and caved-in cheekbone. You’ll be fixed soon enough.

I hesitated to bother him, but he needed to get up if for no other reason than to go to his apartment to sleep.

“Carducci,” I called his name, but he didn’t budge. Nelson and Cash jumped down at the sound of my voice. I looked at him and smiled. Hadn’t had anything that attractive on my couch since...well, ever.

“Um, Joe.” I shook his arm. When he didn’t stir, I leaned next to the sofa and touched his chest. “Joe, wake up.”

He grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm behind my back, and sat up quicker than I could blink.

Cash jumped on the coffee table and hissed. Nelson yowled and bowed up in his terrifying Halloween-kitty pose.

“Ouch.” I struggled to get away. “Joe, what’s wrong?”

He released my arm. “Oh God, sorry.”

Rubbing my wrist, I backed away. “I was only trying to wake you because breakfast is ready.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He reached for me, but stopped himself. “Cop dreams. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No problem.” I’d had worse, but didn’t tell him that.

I led him into the dining room where the omelet-laden, cast-iron skillet took center stage on the table.

“That looks great.” He looked at me with sad, obsidian eyes and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries. I’m good.” I surveyed my wrist and held it up for him to see. “No bruises. All is well.”

After three violence-filled years of marriage to Ray and four years of hiding, I had spot-on people reading skills. I could identify abusers at forty paces and peg a victim with one handshake.

Carducci was neither, but I still maintained my distance.

“So, tell me what happened this morning. How’d you end up with Billy Joe?”

“It’s all because of you.” He smiled.

Lordy, what a smile. My dining room had never been brighter. Once I got past his radiance, his words registered. “What?”

He laughed, buttered a piece of toast, and launched into his story. “That house was fricking freezing. Good advice. Yeah, dress in layers. Layers of molten lava wouldn’t have made that place warm.” His shoulders shook as he shivered. “If I could’ve sat on that damn stove, I would’ve. Instead, I moved a lumpy armchair as close to it as possible. It didn’t take me long to realize moving to Barrow was the worst mistake of my life. Frostbite in a heated house.”

“The weather folks always say that the wind-chill doesn’t affect inanimate objects,” I explained. “But since the houses move in the wind, I consider them animated. A wind-chill of fifty-five below is cold, regardless of your location.”

He bit into the toast and paused before continuing with his story. Another endearing trait, he didn’t talk with his mouth full. “It’s a good thing my cell phone doesn’t work here, or I’d been booking a flight outta this God forsaken place.”

“Know the feeling.” I laughed.

“The house was interesting. Not like anything I’d seen before.” He set his fork down so he could make gestures with his hands, and I smiled to myself. Folks have always said the quickest way to shut me up is to tie my hands. “The walls were covered with pictures—you know, photographs? Some were framed. Others were taped to the wall. You couldn’t even see the paneling there were so many of them.”

“That’s a common decorating theme on the Slope. Not sure why, but it’s popular. It seems like there’s a competition to see who has the oldest, most interesting family photos.”

“In order to get the blood pumping, I looked at every picture. All I could think about was that Jack London story. You know, the one about the dude who was trying to light a fire?”

“To Build a Fire?” I so helpfully offered.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” He grinned. “Catchy title. Anyway, the guy just lies down, goes to sleep, and dies. Every time I got drowsy, I’d jog around the living room and check out the photo collection. After I finished with the ones on the walls, I checked out the ones on the bookcase. The books distracted me.”

“Oh yeah?” An avid reader, I hoped for some good suggestions.

“I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t peg the victim as a sex therapist.”

“What?” I coughed to dislodge the piece of toast I inhaled.

“All the books were about sex—manuals and erotica. The hardcore porn magazines really puzzled me.”

“Why?”

With a surprised look, he explained, “They definitely appealed to a male audience.”

“Really?” I wanted details, but didn’t know the guy well enough to ask him to elaborate.

“They said she lived alone, but since I figured I’d freeze to death if I sat still, I decided to see if there were signs a guy lived there.” His fork waved in the air as he talked. “Before I could get started, Owen showed up with coffee and the brownies, which were frozen.”

“Did you tell Owen your theory?” I asked.

“Nope. Figured I’d see if I could find anything before I mentioned it.”

Cash and Nelson joined us and sat at Carducci’s feet waiting for a piece of mackerel to magically appear from his pocket. When that didn’t occur, Cash stood on his back legs and put his paws on Joe’s thigh.

Darn cat, read my mind.

Absently, Carducci broke off two pieces of bacon and offered them to the cats. They rubbed against the chair legs and purred loud enough to vibrate the table.

That smile and he likes cats. I’m doomed.

“When Owen left, I put the brownies on the stove for a minute to thaw them out. Man, the room smelled like the Keebler Elves and Betty Crocker were having a cook-off.” He buttered a second piece of toast. “My mouth started watering. I was checking if they were thawed when I heard a coughing sound from the bedroom. I went in there and looked around, but didn’t see a thing.”

He shook his head, and his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. “Boy, I debated it, but finally decided to call for backup. I regretted my decision the second Owen and the investigators walked through the door.” Sitting back in his chair, he scratched Cash’s ears. “They were laughing and told me I needed to get used to the wind. They did look around and they ate all the brownies.”

“You didn’t get one?”

His cheeks drooped into a pitifully sad face. “Nope.”

Good Lord, he’s adorable. Look at those sad puppy dog eyes. No big surprise when I said, “I’ll make you some more.”

“Thanks.” His playful frown turned into a radiant smile.

Holy smokes, he’s cute. And you’re not, so stop it. But, Anne…there’s nothing wrong with appreciating the fineness of his form from afar.

“They had just stepped outside, when I saw. Saw the bed move. I called them back in for another look.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “The newbie jokes were humiliating. I was prepared to trap a walrus and put it under the bed just to clear my good name.”

I laughed. “I doubt that would have worked. White is ruthless.”

“Figured that out on my own.” He finished off his last bite of omelet and smiled. “That was good, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaned back in his chair, the only cue Cash needed. He jumped on Joe’s lap.

“Cash, get down.”

“He’s fine. Aren’t you buddy?”

I watched Carducci knead Cash’s back and marveled at his gentle touch.

Just my luck, the cat gets a massage, and I get a broken wrist.

“So, the guys leave. I go back into the living room and sulk because I didn’t get any brownies and I’d made a fool out of myself. Then, BOOM.”

Cash leapt to the floor and Nelson fled the room. I jumped and my chair skidded back three feet. I put my hand over my heart to stop its racing and tried to convince myself it was beating so fast because of Carducci’s exuberant storytelling and not because I found him so attractive.

He grinned at my reaction.

“What was it?” I asked. Cash and Nelson ventured back into the dining room, but kept a safe distance.

“I ran into the bedroom. The mattress flew across the room, and a bloody man crashed through the platform of the bed.”

“Oh my God. You’re kidding. He was in the house the whole time?”

“Yep.” He grinned. “White said the bed had a secret compartment to hide bottles of bootleg liquor.”

“Good Lord.”

“The guy had a knife and was screaming and slinging sweat everywhere. Didn’t understand a word he said, but I knew the instant he saw my gun belt draped over a chair. He made a move for it, but tripped over the base of the bed. Fortunately, I got to it first.”

“Holy crap.” Stunned by his story, I literally sat on the edge of my seat.

“They forgot handcuffs when they issued my gear, so I stood there with the guy at gunpoint until I got backup.”

“That’s crazy. I’m so glad you found him. Now, all the walruses are safe.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t know a thing about trapping.” He laughed. “When we asked him why he came out when he did, he said, ‘Because something smelled really good and I’m hungry.’”

“No way.”

“It’s true. Your brownies enticed a killer from hiding.”

“Well, they are good.” I grinned.

“Now, I’m even more pissed that I missed out on them.”

“Wow. On the job for a less than a day, and you arrest the first murderer Barrow has seen in fifteen years. Congrats.”

He smiled. “I’m going to celebrate by sleeping for twelve hours. Or more.”

“Don’t blame you a bit. You look knackered.” I smiled in sympathy. “You should go home.”

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“I’ll get them. No worries.” I walked with him to the door.

He looked at the couch and then smiled at me in apology. “I’m really sorry I grabbed your arm. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Right as rain.” I rotated my wrist as proof that it was still in working condition.

“You should be safe. That only happens when I’m sleeping, and it’s not like I’ll be doing much of that around you.”

I ignored the punch to my gut and smiled. “True. Get some rest, Carducci.” I shut the door behind him.

Nelson sat on the edge of the couch and meowed. “Message received, huh, big guy?” I scratched his orange ears and stirred up a purr. “No way, super-hunky-cop-dude will be staying overnight with boring-homely-dispatch-girl.”

The dirty dishes cluttered the counter, but I ignored them and headed to bed instead. The harsh arctic wind pelted my window with ice-encrusted snowflakes. Wrapped in layers of flannel, I crawled under my goose-down comforter and snuggled with the cats. A light gray mark had formed on the underside of my wrist.

“That’s going to be pretty, isn’t it, boys?”

Cash nudged my hand so I’d pet him.

“Cop dreams. Wonder what that’s all about?”