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Okay, she wasn’t a total stranger but he really didn’t know her. He didn’t know who she was. And what he did know about her, he wasn’t sure he agreed with. He was grateful she had given him an out. But in that moment he’d seen something in her eyes, something that identified with him in a way that shocked him to his toes. There was something in Miranda’s past, something she was just as sensitive about as he was about Tyler. Something told him he could probably find out fairly easily where her pain originated. That was the beauty of a small town. But going behind her back and snooping into her past seemed wrong. If Miranda wanted him to know what she was protecting, that information ought to come from her. Not that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d share.
* * *
“JUDGING BY THE EVIDENCE, what little there was left behind, we think there are five men involved. But that’s pure speculation because they cover their tracks so well. Sometimes I wonder if they’re somehow making it look as if there are more people when there’s only two. Who knows? But it’s definitely someone who knows what they’re doing. Which leads me to think that it’s a local. As much as I hate to think that. But who else would know the area the way they do and who else would know how to get in and out of those mountains without dying? It’s rough terrain. An inexperienced person could easily slip and fall to their death in these mountains. But whoever these people are they have the sure-footedness of a Billy goat.”
“Could it be one of the indigenous people?”
Miranda’s expression was grim. “Possibly. I’ve asked around but the tribes around here are pretty tight-lipped when it comes to their own. Even if they knew one of the tribal members was committing the crime, they’d never tell the authorities. They don’t trust easily, and like many indigenous tribes, they have reason to distrust those in authority.”
Jeremiah seemed to disagree with her comment but he didn’t chase after that train of thought and she was glad he’d remained quiet. She was protective of the Yupik and their rights because in her son’s blood ran the proud heritage of the local people. Mamu’s ancestors had fished the frigid waters and lived in harmony with Alaska before any white man had stepped foot on the shores to show them the “right” way to live. “I can check and see if there’s been any poaching crimes that fit the M.O. of the poachers here and see if anything pops up that might help. If they’re running a black-market operation, chances are they aren’t hunting only in Alaska.”
Miranda nodded. “That’s true. I made some inquiries but no one seemed all that interested in miring themselves in research for someone else’s pet project.”
“Poaching doesn’t rate on the same level as homicide or even grand theft. Every federal agency is underfunded and understaffed these days it seems. No one wants to take on more work than they have to,” he said.
“Don’t I know it,” she grumbled. “I’ve had a heck of a time getting anyone in our office to lift much more than a finger to help. No one is interested in fieldwork these days and tracking poachers is time spent away from the comforts of a warm office and their topped-off coffee mug.”
“When I was younger I used to spend a lot of time in the field as a ranger. I loved the solitude and the quiet of the mountains. Sometimes I was able to make more sense of what was going on in my life when I was completely surrounded by nature than when I was among other human beings.”
“‘The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness,’” Miranda said with a faint smile.
“John Muir,” Jeremiah murmured with approval. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Gotta love an activist with his heart in the right place,” Miranda said. “I think my brother Wade fancied himself a modern-day John Muir. Fitting, seeing as he moved to California to become a law-enforcement ranger in Yosemite National Park.”
“I did a stint there in my early days. Beautiful country. The valley floor takes your breath away. Have you ever been?”
Miranda shook her head. “Nope. Alaska is enough for me. I don’t share my brother’s wanderlust. Besides, I have plenty to keep me busy right here.”
Miranda allowed silence to fill the cab as she maneuvered the streets out of town and up toward the forest access roads. Jeremiah was unlike any man she’d ever met, particularly for an administrator. Virgil had been content to play by the rules without poking his head up too often to attract attention. His belief had been that if they kept their heads down, when budget cuts came around, Homer’s small satellite office would get overlooked for bigger fish. So with that in mind, Virgil never updated anything in the office, which included the furniture, the carpet, the leaky toilet. Perhaps his strategy had worked because Homer had been left alone when the last round of cuts had come around, but then, they’d been operating on such a ridiculously low budget, Miranda wasn’t sure where they could’ve cut expenses unless they’d started forgoing toilet paper and started using newspaper for their bathroom business.
