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“Afternoon, Chief. You here for some muffins to take back to the office?”
“Actually, Kitty,” Nicholls said, “we’re running a little late for lunch today so maybe a burger and coffee.”
He glanced at Barbara. She wasn’t really hungry anymore, but she looked up at the menu on the wall.
Reindeer sausage and eggs
Reindeer dog
Reindeer pancakes
Wild boar, bison and reindeer burger
Santa would have real trouble finding a guide for his sleigh out here, Barbara thought.
“And what would you like?” Kitty asked.
“Erm, you got anything without reindeer?”
“Fry bread or a salmon burrito?”
“I’ll take the burrito, thanks, and a strong coffee with milk, please.”
Kitty jotted down the orders and poured their coffees. The sound of running water made Barbara realize she needed to empty her bladder.
“Could I use your restroom?” she asked.
“Straight down, at the back.”
“Thanks.”
Barbara walked through the café, feeling eyes crawling over her. She pushed open the door to the Ladies. It was small. Just a single toilet and sink. But it looked pretty clean, except for some graffiti on the walls. She locked the door behind her and struggled out of her thick clothes to use the toilet.
She studied the graffiti. The usual mix of scrawled names, cartoon drawings…and there it was again, the Helsing symbol.
Barbara flushed, re-dressed and walked to the sink to wash her hands. A few stickers had been stuck on the wall around the mirror. Al’s Cabs, Talkeetna Air Taxis, Garrett’s Tours, and a newer-looking one: Be Damned Tattooists, Anchorage. Interesting. Barbara dried her hands on a paper towel, then took a quick picture of the sticker.
She emerged from the restroom to find that Nicholls had sat down with the coffees at a table near the counter. As she made her way over, she almost fell over the foot of the middle-aged man with glasses, catching her balance just in time.
“Watch where you’re going,” he snarled.
Barbara bit back a retort and walked up to Nicholls. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
Nicholls raised an eyebrow. “O-kay.”
They picked up their coffees, exited the café and sat down on the seats closest to the heater.
“You don’t mind the cold?” Nicholls asked.
Barbara shivered. “I’d rather endure the chill out here than in there.”
“Try not to take it personally,” he said. “It’s not you. It’s the situation.”
“Yessir. And I’m the one causing the situation.”
She gazed out across Main Street. Christmas lights twinkled in the darkness; snow glistened on rooftops. She could see the white tips of the Denali mountains in the distance, illuminated by a shy sliver of moon, and hear the call of moose and the wind rustling in the spruce. A reminder that whatever small space humans carved out upon this planet, nature, in all its callous ferocity, was never far away. She lifted her coffee to her lips and then paused.
A figure was walking down the middle of the road. A man. Broad and tall. Over six and a half foot, at a guess. As he drew closer, Barbara could see he was dressed in a long oilskin, cowboy hat and carrying a backpack.
