When Meghan opened her eyes and saw daylight still fingering its way into the house, she thought only an hour or two slipped by. She retrieved the smartphone from the nightstand and disconnected it from the charger. She lay in bed, scrolling through the social media posts from her daughter. She checked the text messages from Brittany and sent a few replies. A day got by her, and it was the middle of the afternoon on Saturday. Meghan didn’t want to think she’d slept through an entire weekday. Her back ached, and her thigh muscles suggested she lay in bed for too long.
Meghan ignored the text messages from Lester. She ignored one from Oliver. She ignored the messages from Calvin. The list of voicemails from Duane, Trooper Sergeant Reeve, and several from private numbers suggested, in her time of solitude, a lot happened. She got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen in her yoga pants and t-shirt. Coffee took time to brew, and she relished the sound of the coffeemaker while the rich aroma filled the kitchen. She read the current news for the rest of the world on her phone, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Shut out of the administrative email from the city, Meghan saw several emails from officials in law enforcement personnel. Meghan deleted the emails without reading them. She deleted the voicemails without listening to them. She removed the hosts of text messages from everyone except Brittany. With the digital tethers gone, Meghan thought her phone felt lighter. She knew it wasn’t possible, but the tangible links to the rest of the world made her feel forgotten by the rest of the world. The only person who mattered to her still had a connection in her texts.
Meghan dreaded having to leave the house. She wasn’t a sentimental person, but the few pieces of Alaskan artwork she collected over the years mattered to her. She wanted to pack up the essential bits and leave anything that couldn’t fit in the luggage she stored in her closet.
It was a bright and surprisingly warm day outside. She wore sunglasses and a ski cap over her ears, down to her eyebrows. It was after one before Meghan left the house and marched down Shore Avenue.
Saturday meant substantial business for the Ammattauq Native Trader. Several customers milled around the small store, checking prices for bulk supplies. Meghan kept her head down and was wearing civilian clothes. No one paid attention. She was as insignificant as everyone else. Meghan didn’t want to stand out; she wanted to do what was right. Sometimes it took a sharp tongue or a heavy boot to make a difference. She had to consider life without the badge. To do that, she had to get out of Kinguyakkii.
“Do you want some coffee?” Eric asked. He leaned against the back supply wall facing the counter. His arms crossed over his chest.
Eric Kennedy was a man who Meghan admired because he made a difference to the community without a badge or an attitude.
She pressed her fingers on the glass countertop. “I’m here to see if you have any extra packing boxes. I don’t want to go to the Alaska Merchandise Store unless I have to,” Meghan said.
“I think I have a few you can have.” He stepped through the door to the back room of the store. It took a minute before he returned with a stack of boxes flat with twine tied around them.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“I want a few minutes of your time,” he said.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I think the faster I get out of here, the better for everyone.”
“Really?” he said. His face remained neutral. “I disagree. But I’m not debating with someone determined to forge a path leading away from the people who care about her.”
“That is nice, but I think it’s not exactly true.”
“Give me five minutes,” he said.
“You’ve got customers.”
Meghan looked around for Linda. Eric’s wife wasn’t in the store.
“You folks don’t mind waiting to check out a few minutes while I talk to our police chief, do you?”
Meghan winced at the question blurted over the store. Head lowered, shoulders up, she didn’t look around before slipping through the break in the counter to follow Eric into the backroom.
“I think I’d rather pay for the boxes,” she said.
“I take donations for the boxes, Meg. I keep them for families who need them. The money goes into the food pantry.”
Meghan pulled a crinkled $10 from her front pocket and slapped it on the desk. Eric stood beside her and watched the monitors in the backroom. No one made off with supplies. Meghan suspected he knew everyone in the store. If they shoplifted, Eric would add it to their family accounts.
“Let’s talk about Chrissy,” he said.
“I can’t, please, Eric. I don’t want to talk about her. I am mad and sick about it.”
“I heard a rumor that you managed to solve a murder no one else knew anything about.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that you did that and managed to catch a child predator all without wearing a badge.”
Meghan sighed. She felt that hot knotted gutful of broken glass roiling inside her. It was a classic tale of predatory convenience. The estranged uncle preyed on the innocence of a ten-year-old girl.
“The worst of it,” she said finally. “I wonder how long it went on. How long did Eugene put his hands on that
