“You’re never off duty,” Dana said.
“Neither are you. It comes with the training. I see you checking everything. Tomorrow when we go to the events at the school auditorium, you’ll scan the crowds.”
“It’s true.” She smiled. “What about that vagina of yours?” Dana asked. “Are you getting any use out of that?”
Meghan laughed and smacked Dana’s arm draped over the back of the sofa. They talked for the rest of the night. When Dana retired to the bedroom, Meghan curled up on the couch. She pulled the heavy blanket over her shoulders and thought about what kind of life she missed. Dana was what Meghan used to be when she had lived as a federal agent.
They shared a career. They went through the academy together. Meghan got Dana through the struggles of psychology tests and the bookwork of the business. Meghan scored higher in her combat and shooting skills. She scored higher in the aptitude skills. Meghan never compared herself to Dana in aspects of work. Both of them understood, without Meghan’s constant attention, Dana didn’t have the proficiency to graduate the academy on her own. It was Meghan that helped her friend secure the badge and ID.
Once they took assignments in Upstate New York—Meghan in Syracuse, Dana in Ithaca—they spent time together on various assignments. Though, Meghan moved up in the chain of command, while Dana stagnated as a people watcher and paper pusher.
Then it all changed when the dynamic changes happened inside the bureau, and Meghan almost lost her life to a suspect. It wasn’t something she thought about. When it came to the weeks of recovery, physical therapy, what kept Meghan going wasn’t the job. It was a dedication to her daughter.
Now, somehow, Meghan lived alone, divorced, and Dana’s career took off. She took promotions and transfers, and Meghan got to talk to her daughter through social media instead of spending substantial time together between mother and daughter in the same house.
There were times when Meghan felt like she gave up life, that she ran away. Seeing Dana again, catching up on bureau gossip, and understanding the life behind the prestigious FBI moniker, Meghan felt the sting of regret before the inevitable sleep took over.
Chapter Three
When the North Slope School District planned and constructed the mammoth high school gymnasium for Kinguyakkii—home of the Wolverines—they understood the lucrative investment opportunity that came from having a prominent gathering place for the residents of the city, and the surrounding villages. It was a hub of the social congregation. Not only for the endless indoor sporting events, booking the venue was nearly impossible and extremely expensive. Craft shows, traveling delegates, and social occasions, meant every weekend something happened at the sporting arena at the Kinguyakkii High School known as George Hall. The George family earned their name over the door because they devoted their time, energy, and, most of all, money to the preservation of Native Alaskan Rights.
George Hall was the prime weekend spot in the City of Northern Lights. Community members used the venue beyond the basketball games for ongoing fundraisers, bingo, and the special holiday extravaganza for the Memorial Day Celebration. For people of the north, May was the time when rivers thawed, the bay waters opened, and the caribou herds got closer to town, spreading north across the tundra. Subsistent hunting and fishing meant the sooner spring arrived in the Arctic Circle, the fuller their freezers for the coming winter months. Everything in the north for people who lived off the land, it came down to seasonal migration and clear waterways.
“You’re going to see what it means to live in Alaska,” Meghan said.
They arrived at George Hall Sports Arena shortly after seven that Saturday evening. Meghan did the customary and obligated tour of Kinguyakkii for Dana. They spent time at the police department, and Meghan did her best to avoid Duane Warren. The mayor, always looking for more about Meghan, knew Dana came to visit because Meghan requisitioned the time off. He wanted to meet someone from Meghan’s past directly. So far, Meghan managed to steer clear of the buttery man with the smooth tongue and overreaching handshake.
Duane once had complete access to the police department and all its business. Once Meghan took over, she moved the politics out of law enforcement. Duane didn’t resent Meghan for treating him like an ordinary citizen. Still, she knew he missed the idea that he belonged to the law enforcement side of the business, instead of someone Meghan answered to when it came to doing her job incorrectly. Meghan knew to do her job right because it kept Duane away.
That Saturday night, KING-AM Radio DJs Dead-Air Dave and White-Noise Wayne took the stage to blare top 40 hits and country favorites for the swelling and dancing crowds. Meghan did her best to mingle, but work took precedence over trying to entertain her friend. Dana didn’t seem taxed by the adventure after flying twelve hours across the planet.
“Who are you looking for?” Dana asked.
Meghan smiled. She relaxed a little. “Sorry, occupational hazard.”
Meghan didn’t have to explain it to her friend. Dana lived life. Law enforcement officers checked exits, made eye contact with more people. They watched body language and demeanor. Dana and Meghan both checked hands and waists of people enjoying themselves at the event. Carrying a firearm was prohibited on school property. Even with the gun laws in Alaska, allowing people to open-carry, and living in an area where polar bears sometimes roamed, having a gun in the bush meant life or death. Meghan had other concerns besides looking for weapons.
“I’ve got a problem with bootleggers,” she said. “A town gathering like this is a prime location for people to smuggle booze. I’m always watching—what?” Meghan saw the bewildered look on Dana’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Dana said with a laugh.
