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Nate set a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
He shook it off. Both his brother’s hand and the flashback. “I’m good. Point me toward the Roadhouse.”
Nate sighed, but walked over to a parked snowmachine and started the engine. “Hop on.”
Solitaire was little more than a handful of buildings gathered around the airport and connected by dirt roads. The Sugar Falls River wound around the town in a U-shape, bordering it on three sides. The Iditarod Roadhouse was a log cabin-style building on the bank of the river, right next to the airport’s one runway. It served as town bar, diner, community center, and hotel and didn’t look like it got a lot of business outside the race it was named after. Even their logo was a dog sled team.
There were more snowmachines parked out front than cars—which meant a grand total of three next to a shiny SUV that could only belong to Damian. He must have had it flown in. Jesus.
Damian, conspicuous consumption personified.
Did any of those snowmachines belong to the guy who shot at them?
Ellis studied them, but nothing looked familiar. He’d been half out of his mind with the cold and never got a close enough look at the man or his vehicle. But it was possible. Hell, even likely. This was the closest town, and the psycho snowmachiner would need to refuel eventually.
Inside, he found Peanut holding court in the diner, charming everyone with her sass and fashion model strut. Nobody noticed his entry at first and while the diners watched her, he studied them. Damian sat at the table where Peanut was putting on her show, his breakfast plate untouched in front of him. Two older men sat at the bar nursing beers and a middle-aged woman with long, gray-streaked hair worked behind the counter. Again, nobody he recognized. He didn’t know what he expected. Wasn’t like the guy would walk around town with a sign declaring he’d tried to kill two people.
Peanut noticed him first and gave her usual squeak of a bark. Everyone’s focus shifted to the door, and he felt Nate tense up beside him. Poor Nate. His middle brother hated being the center of attention.
Ellis stepped into the room and pulled off his hat and gloves before holding his hand out to the woman behind the counter. “Thank you for letting Peanut stay here while I recovered.”
The woman grinned. “Don’t you worry. That dog is a hoot.” She gripped his hand and shook with all the enthusiasm of a pit bull locked down on its favorite tug toy. “I’m Josie. I own this dump.” She motioned to the two men. “And those two seat warmers are Gus and Obadiah. Don’t mind them. Obi’s the town drunk and Gus don’t say much, but they’re good people.”
“You say drunk like it’s a bad thing,” Obi said with a full-bellied laugh. “Who wants to be sober when it’s fifty below outside?” He had a bushy Santa beard, stained tobacco yellow around his mouth. His smile of welcome included one sad, twisted tooth and his puffy face spoke of a life-long love affair with alcohol. No doubt he and Dad drank together whenever Will flew through here.
Gus barely grunted a greeting. He was about the same age as his friend but in much better physical condition. He had the look of a life-long outdoorsman: long salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tie and tough, weathered skin with squint lines fanning out from his eyes.
Ellis nodded at both men, then returned his attention to the woman who still gripped his hand. “I’m Ellis Hunter.”
“I know,” Josie said and finally released him. While she looked like a pit bull—short, stocky, muscular—she had the unbridled enthusiasm of a lab and waved her arms expressively as she spoke a mile a minute. “You been the talk of the town. We don’t get a lot of outsiders here unless it’s race time, so this is all juicy gossip. Heard you nearly froze to death out there. The doc wanted to ship you back to Anchorage, but you didn’t want to go. Why would you want to stay here? I don’t even want to stay here most days and I grew up here, my whole life is here. Does it have anything to do with why Bree keeps taking her dogs out every day? I asked what she was looking for, but she wouldn’t say. Told her—”
“Take a breath, Josie. You’re scaring the kid,” Obi cut in and shifted on his stool to eye Ellis, then Nate, and finally Damian. He waggled a finger in the air between them. “You three, you’re Will Hunter’s boys. I can see him in ya.”
“There’s nothing of him in me,” Damian said, but he rose from his seat and approached the bar. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care, but his actions spoke louder.
Obi snorted into his beer. “You a spitting image, kid.”
“Maybe in looks, but—”
“So you know Dad?” Nate interrupted. Always the peacemaker.
“Know him? Hell.” Obi slapped a gnarled hand down on the empty seat next to him and lifted his beer in a toast. “We’ve polished off more’n one good bottle together right here at this bar.” He snorted a laugh. “And many other not-so-good bottles.”
“Big surprise,” Damian muttered and backed off. He returned to his table and continued poking at his breakfast. He didn’t seem to notice his plate was short a slice of bacon, but Ellis did and crouched to find Peanut under the table. She held the slice between her paws like a precious treasure and when she saw him reaching to take it, the little devil unhinged her jaw and gobbled it whole.
He sighed, scooped her up, and dropped her in Damian’s lap. “You’re sleeping with bacon farts tonight.”
“Have you seen him lately?” Nate asked, still focused on Obi.
“Old Will? Uh…” The old man squinted one eye shut as he thought about it and listed sideways in the chair. “Maybe a week ago?”
“Yes, a week ago,” Josie said. “Stopped in for breakfast. Said he was on his way to Nome but ended up staying over a night.”
“Uh-huh, that’s right.” Obi scratched at his head, then nodded. “He wasn’t feeling well. We had a few drinks, but he went to bed early and that was last I saw him. Gone when I got here next morning.”
Drinks. They’d had a few drinks. Why that news struck such a sharp blow, Ellis couldn’t say. He wasn’t at all surprised. Maybe disappointed. All of Bree’s talk of Dad’s sobriety has gotten his hopes up.
No, it wasn’t even that.
