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“No. I moved from Boston in ’95.”
“Seems an odd choice for a young officer to make.”
He hesitated and then said, “My wife was murdered.”
Barbara felt his words like a blow. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She waited. Sometimes people wanted to talk about it. Sometimes the pain was too much.
“She was a teacher,” Tucker said eventually. “There was this pupil, had a crush on her. She laughed it off. Said it happened sometimes, it would pass. This kid looked harmless. Skinny, blonde, glasses. I even felt sorry for him. Then, one night, as she was walking to her car after class, he came up behind her and shot her in the head. Raped her while she lay dying.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t do my job any longer. I kept thinking, I missed it. I didn’t see that this kid was really a monster. I was about to quit the force when the job in Deadhart came up. It seemed as far away from my old life as possible, so I applied.”
“Good enough reason.”
“It wasn’t the only one.” He stared at her. “Here, I figured, I’d know the monsters.”
Barbara nodded. “And how’s that working out for you?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’ve spent twenty-five years living in a hut in the woods. How d’you think?”
Barbara reached into a drawer, pulled out a holster, gun and badge and pushed them across the desk. “I think we should get to work.”
26
Jess dropped by to take her dad for breakfast once a week. A routine that had started after her mom had died.
Jess had never been particularly close to her dad, growing up. He was a hard man to get close to. A man bred in tradition. Emotion was weakness; discipline built character. Jess knew, or at least suspected, that he loved her and her brothers. They always had enough to eat, plenty of presents at Christmas, and he only ever raised his hand to any of them when they really deserved it. But she couldn’t recall him ever saying he loved them.
When her mom’s illness really started to take hold, she saw a different side to him. A softer, kinder side. He did everything for Mom, and although Jess tried to help, she had Stephen and the business to look after. Even when the doctor said Mom needed to go into a care home, her dad refused. It was his duty to care for his wife. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. Her dad took duty and God seriously. And when God finally took her mom, Dad was by her side, holding her hand. It was the only time Jess had ever seen him cry.
After Mom—and Jess tended to divide her relationship with her dad into those two parts: before Mom and after—she made the effort to visit him more often. To make sure he was eating right. To bring him groceries, do his washing. He was still fit for his age and would regularly go out hunting with his buddies or to sink beers at the Roadhouse Grill, but Jess would make sure his small house was clean, the milk for his coffee wasn’t a week out of date and there was always a home-cooked meal in the freezer. Women’s work, but as the only daughter, and the only child who had remained in Deadhart, it was her duty.
The breakfast ritual had started as a way to get him out of the house, one that didn’t involve shooting things or propping up the bar with his cronies. Jess would pick him up, they’d drive down to the Grill or sometimes Harty Snacks (although her dad still regarded that place as a bit new-fangled, even though it had been in business for over a decade now).
They would drink coffee, eat fry bread and reindeer sausage and chat about this and that: the town, the goddamn Colony and what could be done about them (Jess had encouraged her dad to come to the church, but Beau didn’t care for the new female preacher). He liked to hear about Stephen. Beau was proud of his grandson, even though Jess sometimes worried that the boy was three quarters attitude and a quarter sullen defiance.
They talked, too, about the business. Her dad had put a sizable chunk of money into Dan’s touring and adventure firm. He’d done okay from his own business, running a truck repair shop in town till he retired (and a bigger one in Talkeetna took the trade).
So far, Dad hadn’t seen his investment recouped. The business had started okay, but in recent years there had been a decline. Dan had been quick to reassure Beau that it was only a temporary blip and had even shown him accounts and projections to back this up. What Jess could not tell her dad was that the figures were bullshit. The business had been leaking money like a slow puncture for a long time. And it was only getting worse.
Dan had wanted to trade on Deadhart’s status as a colony town. To attract more than the occasional group of goths. The plan was to take groups hiking up in the mountains to visit the old settlement. Deserted, but largely intact. They could camp out there overnight, enjoy “the real Colony experience,” which Dan planned to charge a premium for.
But before Dan could really get his plans off the ground, there had been the incident with the wolves. A pack had taken up residence in one of the deserted buildings and a hiker had been attacked. He had survived, but staying overnight was deemed too risky and the company’s insurance wouldn’t cover it.
After that the Colony tours idea had started to die off. They still got the usual hiking and mountain-climbing business; the national park was a draw for many. But there were other, more touristy towns that could offer the same things. Places with big lodges and hotels, gift shops and brewpubs. Deadhart couldn’t compete.
And then, around a year ago, the Colony had returned. Their protected status meant that the tours couldn’t venture within a half-mile of the settlement lest they “affect the natural habitat of the Colony.” Even the air taxis were restricted from flying over. That was bad enough, but now, with Marcus’s murder, trade would be hit even harder. It seemed callous to think of such a thing, but dead children were bad for business.
Dan had tried to reassure Jess. It would be okay; just a rough patch. Once a cull was authorized and the Colony dealt with, they could start up the tours to the settlement. They just had to sit tight. He had a lot of new ideas to drive more business.
In a way she admired his optimism. Dan always believed that things would work out. It was one of the things she loved about him. That and the fact he was hard-working, kind and a great dad to Stephen. Ultimately, she guessed that was why she forgave the dodgy accounting and his other indiscretions.
She pulled up outside her dad’s home. It was a modest building. Wood cladding, two bedrooms upstairs, a small living room, kitchen and another bedroom downstairs. Growing up here, with five of them, it had been tight. Now that it was just Dad, the place seemed too big.
She was a little early today. Dan was out, picking up some supplies from Talkeetna. The weather was worsening, and they might be cut off for a day or two. Stephen was downstairs in the den with Jacob. She kind of hoped that Jacob would be gone when she returned. Not that he was any bother. He was an inoffensive kid. And she certainly felt sorry for him, with that sad excuse of a father. But he was an odd choice of friend for Stephen. Marcus and Stephen had been friends since kindergarten; they’d grown up together. She didn’t understand how they had become best buds with Jacob Bell.
Still, she guessed right now that Stephen and Jacob needed to lean on each other. It was a terrible thing they’d been through. Every time she thought about poor Marcus, her heart constricted, and the same thought tore through her mind. It could have been Stephen. Her boy. Her only boy.
