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Ever since she’d moved to Alaska, she’d had trouble sleeping. She blamed it on her circadian rhythm. Her body liked to awaken when the sun came up.
But this time of year in Alaska, the sun didn’t come up until after eight a.m.
Because of that, she’d almost become accustomed to not getting much rest. Plus, there were the long trips in her truck.
If Andi were honest with herself, whenever she got excited about something, she poured all her energy into it. It had been like that when she worked cases as a lawyer. Once a fire lit inside her, there was no turning back.
She hoped to use that quality to bring Victor down.
Finally, after she could no longer take the restlessness, Andi threw her clothes on and wandered out into the cafeteria area.
She wanted to study that murder board a little longer to see if she’d missed anything.
When she spotted Duke sitting on the couch with a flannel blanket over his lap in front of the fire, she wasn’t surprised. He quietly stared at the board, acting as if he hadn’t heard her step into the room.
Andi took a moment to soak him in.
The man was quite a sight to see with his broad shoulders, thick lashes, and wavy, dark hair. He had a strength about him—not only physical but mental also.
She could admire that. At first, she’d thought he was too GI Joe for the two of them to ever connect. But she’d been wrong.
He was . . . well, he was someone she could probably be friends with if circumstances were different.
She’d initially thought the two of them were opposites. Now, she was beginning to think theywerecut from the same cloth. Part of her didn’t want to admit that, and she might not ever say it out loud. But Andi thought it was a definite possibility.
Andi realized she’d been staring a little too long.
She walked toward him and gently lowered herself onto the other end of the couch. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
“I have too much on my mind.” He rubbed his jaw.
“Me too.” She stared at the board. The timelines. The suspects. The evidence.
“I thought I’d put this part of my life behind me so I could concentrate on finding Celeste.” His voice sounded grim. “Yet I suppose that there was part of me that missed investigating.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.” Andi clamped her mouth shut.
She hadn’t intended to say that, and she hoped he didn’t notice.
“I keep trying to break this down,” Duke muttered. “Did this guy get away with the perfect murder? Is there even such a thing as a perfect murder?”
Relief filled her. If he had noticed, he hadn’t asked.
“I suppose it depends on who you ask. I’m anxious for Obadiah to send us the list of people they went to church with. I feel like there could be some answers there.”
“Do you think someone at the church had something to do with Henrietta’s murder?”
“I’m not sure. But it sounds like church was an integral part of the Blancos’ lives for sure. Those were the people that the family came to connect with the most.”
“A lot of times people who grow up steeped in strict fundamentalism end up walking away from the church totally.” Duke said the words matter-of-factly. “I’m talking about extreme fundamentalism—to the extent that it’s almost cult-like.”
“Are you religious?” Andi studied his expression, earnestly curious about his background.
“I didn’t grow up in a religious home,” he said. “And I definitely didn’t live a very holy lifestyle for the first few decades of my life. But after Celeste disappeared, something changed for me. I began wanting to believe there was more to this life. But I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.”
“What changed?” She settled back to listen.
“One of my friends from my time in the Army. I noticed he always seemed to have this peace about him, even when everything was falling apart in his life—and he had a lot going wrong, including a cancer diagnosis. He told me he went to church. He even invited me, so I went.”
