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The girl listened. At the end, she smiled.
“And we’ll make them pay?”
“We will.”
21
Only a few lights were on along Main Street. The sky had darkened, and snow gusted down in thick flakes. Wind rattled shutters and shook the gaudy decorations. Harty Snacks had taken in the chairs and heaters. The town felt like it was battening down, Barbara thought. Going into hibernation.
She pushed open the door of the café. The place was empty except for the same blonde-haired girl behind the counter—Kitty—who was engrossed in her phone.
“Hi there,” Barbara said.
“Oh.” The girl hastily slid the phone into her pocket. “Hi. What can I get you?”
“Coffee, and—” Barbara glanced at the menu. Still reindeer-heavy. “Some fry bread, please.”
“Sure thing.” The girl turned to the coffee machine. She glanced back over her shoulder at Barbara. “Saw a helicopter landing earlier. Looked like the air ambulance?”
“Really?” Barbara smiled. “Well, I hope whoever they picked up is okay.”
The girl continued to look at her and then said, “Yeah. Well, they’re lucky. Nothing will be flying out of here for a few days.”
Great, Barbara thought. She took her coffee and bread and settled in a far corner, away from any other customers that might come in. A lot to unpack from today. And a lot to do tomorrow. First thing in the morning she would head back to Dalton’s. Any evidence would need to be sent back to Anchorage, along with the other samples she had collected. Cab and then air taxi was probably the fastest. If either of them was running.
The mold she had taken of Marcus’s bite wound would be run through a 3D scanner, and any unusual identifying marks logged. It would also be compared to bite wounds from other cases. Unfortunately, it was too long ago for molds to have been taken in the Danes case, but it might throw something up. Ideally, Barbara would take bite samples from every member of the Colony, but she had a feeling they might not be forthcoming on that. The colonies had learned not to trust humans. To minimize contact. To protect their own.
That’s why it was unusual that the girl vampyr, Athelinda, had approached them near the hunting shack. “Ask ’em about the Bone House.” Barbara had run a quick Google search, but nothing relating to the Bone House in Deadhart had come up, which only made her more curious.
She took a sip of coffee. The door to the café swung open again. A familiar figure in a bright crimson snowsuit walked in. Rita. Barbara’s stomach sank. She liked Rita, but she wasn’t really in the mood for cheery conversation right now.
“Hey there!” Rita grinned. “I was looking for you.” She lowered her voice. “I heard about the Doc and Pete.”
Barbara glanced across the counter. Kitty stood with her back to them, tapping on her phone.
“How d’you hear?” Barbara asked.
Rita pulled out a chair and sat down. “Pete called me from the hospital. He told me about the video the boys filmed too.”
Barbara bit back her annoyance. Nicholls shouldn’t be divulging information to anyone without running it past her. But then, she guessed Rita was his friend as well as the mayor.
“How is he?” she asked.
“They were about to wheel him into the OR. Metal pins and plates. Nasty break.”
“Damn.”
“To be honest, an enforced rest will probably do him good. It’s not an easy ride here. The wages are low, and the work is tough. You get asked to do everything, from breaking up brawls to chasing off bears. Plus, blowtorching the lock on your front door every night because it’s frozen solid soon stops being a novelty.”
Barbara nodded, wondering again how Nicholls ended up here. “I can imagine. How do you cope?”
“Well, I’m Deadhart born and bred.” Rita chuckled. “This is my normal.”
“Never thought of moving?”
“Maybe, when I was younger.” Something flickered across her face, and then it was gone. “Anyway, what did Jacob have to say for himself?”
“Well, turns out the Doc was selling blood to the Colony. Jacob was running it for him. And he paid the boys to fake the video.”
