The newly renovated space above the sheriff’s office still smells like fresh paint. Two weeks since Katerina Volkov traded her freedom for information, and I'm organizing files from what she gave us.
Two desks face each other across the small room. Four folding chairs that wobble when you shift your weight. Filing cabinets still in their boxes. A coffee maker we haven't bothered to unpack. Voices drift up from the street below—someone arguing about tire chains.
Not much, but it's a start.
"You sure about this?" Rhys asks from the doorway. He carries two more boxes, sheriff's badge still clipped to his belt. "Taking the consulting position means you're tied to Alaska. To this investigation. Could be years before we dismantle what's left of the network."
"I'm sure." I take one of the boxes from him. "Katerina gave us names. Locations. Enough to prove the network is bigger than we thought. Someone needs to coordinate the investigation."
He sets his box down. "The Bureau's loss."
"More like their stupidity." I pull out file folders and start organizing them. "But forming a multi-agency task force meansI can stay involved without the red tape. Consulting pays better anyway."
Katerina bought her freedom with eighteen hours of interrogation. Names. Financial records. Safe houses from Anchorage to Seattle. The feds gave her witness protection in exchange. But she couldn't give us the Marshal. The mysterious figure who built the network Sergei managed. The ghost who's still out there rebuilding what we tore down.
"The federal office approved the task force yesterday," Rhys says. He crosses to the window. Snow falls through gray afternoon light, coating Main Street below. "Official jurisdiction spanning Alaska, Washington, and Oregon. You're listed as lead consultant on trafficking operations. Wells gets promoted to deputy in charge when I'm working task force business." His jaw tightens. "Town council wasn't happy about me splitting time."
"What did you tell them?"
"That the trafficking network targeted our town. That eight women were held captive twenty miles from here. That we have a responsibility to finish what we started." He turns to look at me. "They came around."
I join him at the window. Below, a few trucks are parked outside the diner. Someone shovels the sidewalk in front of the post office. The ordinary rhythm of a small town in winter.
"The office needs work," I say, "but it'll do. Whiteboards for network mapping. Secure server for federal databases. Coffee maker that actually functions." I glance at him. "You don't have to split your time. I can run the task force solo."
"No." He pulls me close. "We started this as partners. We finish it as partners."
"Even though it means years of work? Even though the Marshal is still out there rebuilding?"
"Especially then." He cups my face. "You're not doing this alone, Harlow."
My shoulders drop. Tension I didn't realize I was carrying releases. "Okay. As partners."
He kisses me. Soft at first, his lips testing, asking. Then I rise on my toes and his hand slides into my hair, angling my head. The kiss deepens. Turns hungry. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him. The taste of coffee and want. Heat spreads through my chest, pools low in my belly. When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine, thumb stroking my jaw.
Footsteps pound up the stairs. Wells appears in the doorway, tablet in hand. The deputy stands straighter these days. Shoulders back. Chin up. The promotion suits him.
"Sheriff. Harlow." He nods to each of us. "Federal office sent over surveillance footage from Anchorage. Three possibles at the safe house Katerina identified."
I take the tablet. Three men entering and leaving a nondescript building over a two-week span. All wearing hats or hoods. All avoiding direct camera angles.
But not careful enough.
One glances up at the wrong moment. I freeze the frame. Run it through facial recognition software connected to federal databases.
"Yuri Lebedev," I read when the match appears. "Known associate of the Volkov organization. Multiple arrests for witness intimidation. Three suspected kills, all cases dropped due to lack of evidence."
Rhys moves beside me. Studies the screen. "Seattle based. What brings him to Anchorage?"
"Cleaning up loose ends." I pull up Lebedev's file. "He specializes in eliminating people who testify against the organization. Witnesses. Informants."
My throat tightens. I helped rescue eight women. Testified at Sergei's arraignment. My name is in every federal report.
I am exactly the kind of target Yuri Lebedev eliminates.
Wells shifts his weight. "The footage is from three days ago. He could still be in the area."
"Or already here." Rhys straightens. His hand drops to his weapon. Pure instinct. "Harlow testified. She's on his list."
