Page 54 of Untamed Coast

Sam figured the only thing keeping him from ending up like Joe was the fact that Mr. Full Glass didn’t know who Sam was. Sam didn’t know exactly who he was, either. He knew Mr. Full Glass was a fancy dresser who carried an alligator briefcase, because Joe had let that slip in one of their meetings. That would make him stand out in Alaska. Not a lot of alligator in these parts.

At the same time, Sam needed this not to be a crime scene. He didn’t need law enforcement poking around looking for something that might get him in trouble. Losing the money was bad, but going to jail would be a lot worse. And letting Mr. Full Glass know who he was or that someone was on to him could be bad news as well. Certainly hadn’t worked out well for Joe.

Sam emptied the full glass in the basin, wiped it with his handkerchief, and stuck it in his pocket. He moved the second chair from the table to a place across the room. For an extra touch, he dropped Joe’s empty whiskey glass on the floor near Joe’s head. It shattered. He dampened a towel and cleaned up the vomit and the edges of the dried blood pool as well as he could. He didn’t want signs that anyone had been here except Joe.

Sam closed the cracked window. He looked around for any other places small animals might wriggle in. He didn’t want any critters coming in and having a feast on Joe’s body.

It was hard to look at his friend like this. Joe had been a good guy at heart, and didn’t deserve what someone had done to him here. Sure, he was committing a crime, but a lot of people were doing desperate things to survive the tough times—including Sam. He spit his gum into his hand and whispered a short prayer for his friend.

It might be a long time before anyone discovered the body. Sam had been careful that nobody knew he was coming today. He had felt something was wrong when Joe didn’t show up at the mine for a couple days, and he’d come out here to be sure Joe wasn’t planning to double-cross him.

He hadn’t expected to find a crime scene.

Maybe he’d point out to the other guys at the mine that Joe hadn’t been around lately. Somebody else might come and find him, then. He’d need to be casual about it—not seem too interested or worried.

Sam also needed to go to Sitka and find Mr. Full Glass—and his money.

He walked to the front door and tossed his gum into the bushes nearby, then stood in the doorway and looked around the room one last time.

Looked like an accident.

Chapter 42

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Sitka, AK

1982—Anya Baron

Anya would have assumed Chilton was just passed out drunk—if it weren’t for all the blood.

The lawyer was slumped forward in his desk chair and onto his desk, his upper body surrounded by a dark pool on an uncharacteristically tidy desktop. The gloomy mahogany veneer made the deep crimson almost invisible.

Aside from the gruesome desk tableau, Chilton’s office looked normal and undisturbed.

A strange sense of calm settled over Anya as she surveyed the scene. Nobody else was in the room, the only light coming from the open door where she stood. She had waited outside for almost an hour. Eventually, realizing this was unacceptably late even for Chilton, she had decided to try the door and found it unlocked.

Now, apparently, she’d need a new lawyer.

Had Chilton killed himself?

She continued cautiously into the room, closed the door behind her, and turned on the lights. The fluorescent fixtures blinked to life with the usual distressing buzz. Chilton’s blood was still glistening wet, and the only smell coming from the corpse was Chilton’s cheap cologne. Must not have been dead long. As she walked around behind him, she saw what looked like a bullet hole in the back of his head.

Chilton had not killed himself.

Apart from the lawyer’s upper torso, the normally disheveled desk held only a half-empty coffee cup, a bowl of peppermints, a stapler, a second coffee cup filled with pens, and an empty file folder.

No gun.

Anya’s breath left her when she saw her name on the folder.

The broken radio was hissing “Turn the Beat Around”—louder than usual—from the top of the filing cabinet.

Anya switched it off and opened the top file drawer. It was empty. So was the second. The third drawer down was half-filled with files—whose labels started with A in the front, then a gap, then more files with last names running D through the end of the alphabet. She checked the drawers of the other filing cabinet.

All empty.

Chilton’s file cabinets were evidently just for show. He had files from a few dozen clients at most, all in one drawer. He had obviously had her file out, and whoever had killed him had taken what was inside.