All Meghan wanted was a hot shower and a few days’ worth of sleep. Unfortunately, she needed to finish her job, which meant drafting the complaints in the case for the state and the troopers.
When she appeared from the bathroom, Meghan presented a cleaner appearance that only hid the grime that coated her body under the clothes she wore for days.
Trooper Chandler waited for her in the situation room. He smiled at her reemergence. She heard Matthew talking to the other two troopers in the lobby. He begged them for a cup of coffee. No one seemed to listen to him.
“We’re leaving now, Ma’am,” he said.
“Hey,” Meghan shouted. She moved around Chandler and walked to the archway separating the back room from the lobby. “He’s still my prisoner until he leaves here. He wants a cup of coffee.” Meghan saw her officer watching in awe. “Riley, please get our prisoner a coffee.”
She stood facing the men, Matthew included. A sight to behold, she thought — a small town barefoot police chief staring down a bunch of hardened state troopers. Wearing dirty tight jeans and a pullover scoop neck top, Meghan felt the clothes grew against her skin.
Riley got the coffee for Matthew, who took the cup in two hands because the troopers handcuffed him. He looked younger, more innocent, Meghan thought. The layers of worn-out winter gear hid a boy in men’s clothing. He had a choppy haircut that looked more disheveled now that the troopers had removed his equipment, searching him for anything dangerous. Meghan remembered those sad eyes watching her in the campfire light.
“Thank you,” Matthew said and sipped the coffee.
She learned a lot about him. Matthew liked to talk while they watched the fire and waited for rescue. A troubled childhood, a disorganized home life, a string of bad decisions that led up to the one fatal moment that made the rest of his adult life a statistic, and a product of the penal system.
“Good luck,” Meghan said. She turned around and returned to the office.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Over the next few hours that morning, Meghan had a collection of visitors. All the while, she worked on the reports for the state — the charging documents needed for Matthew upon his arrival at the Anchorage Correctional Complex.
Lester wandered into the office a half-hour after the state troopers departed with the prisoner. Like Meghan, he acted as though it was another typical day of work. He marched to the coffee station, poured a cup, and went to Meghan’s office. Leaning against the doorjamb, he sipped coffee.
She smiled at him from the desk. Lester wasn’t someone who shared his feelings with anyone. Stony faced and astute. He waited to speak, often had advice worth hearing. It wasn’t the first time they faced harrowing circumstances together. Most people faced that kind of danger or excitement once in a lifetime. Lester and Meghan lived in a place where anything happened. Danger wasn’t his middle name, but Lester faced it enough to call it an old friend.
“Did you call your wife?” Meghan asked.
He nodded. “She’s making my favorite for dinner tonight. She wants to know if you’re coming over.”
Meghan shook her head. “I need sleep more than food,” she said, “And a shower more than sleep.”
“Yup, I told her you’re probably tired.” He gave her a look of scrutiny. “Did you call Brittany?”
By the time on the laptop, it was four in the afternoon. In New York, it was already eight on a Friday night. It was the weekend before Christmas break for high school kids. Meghan knew a teenage girl had more business to worry about than her mother. There was business with boys, shopping, school, and the holidays with her friends and father.
“I’ll call her later,” Meghan said.
“Barbara’s back in town,” he said. “You should have a talk with her.”
“We will have a conversation with her together,” Meghan said, including the lieutenant. “How was Norman doing when he flew out of here?”
“As well as expected,” Lester said. “He told me again about not knowing Matt killed Hilma. He said, chasing after Matt made sense at the time.”
“Do you believe him?” she asked.
Lister sipped from his favorite ceramic mug. “I think Norman knew last Friday night that his grandmother died.”
“I think you’re right. I had a long talk with Matt. He used Norman’s framing hammer to kill her. He helped Norman with the roof repair.
“At some point when Norman wasn’t around, Matt saw Hilma handling cash. He knew she had a lockbox. It turned out he had more than one box of cash.”
“How much money did she have?” Lester asked.
“Well, I can tell you I burned about $3000 starting that fire. The backpack was stuffed full of cash. I didn’t count it. I didn’t see the point.”
Lester nodded.
They heard the commotion in the lobby. Meghan listened to a strong male voice that projected through the department. Lester moved away from the doorway when Neil Holt appeared. He looked in on Meghan, sitting at the desk.
“Lester,” Neil said. They shook hands.
He entered the office and stood behind the chair facing Meghan at the desk. His strong hands pressed on the back of the chair. Meghan thought for a moment what that felt like if the chair was her shoulders.
“So, big adventure,” he said.
“I guess.” Meghan underplayed it because so far, life in Alaska was a layer of adventures that were hard to categorize. “Thank you for finding us.”
“I live to fly,” Neil said, flashing a grin. He had those broad shoulders and sparkling eyes that went with the troublemaker grin.
Meghan deflected Neil’s charm with business. “If you can
