Wonderful. “You have no clue where he might be?”
“Nope.”
Terrific. “How about Christian?”
Brock lifted a hand. “Couldn’t tell you. He’s around here somewhere living off the land and will show his face in his own time.”
“That’s odd.”
“Is it?” Brock shrugged. “I guess.”
Fine. She could pursue two cases at once. “I’ll need to interview the Randsoms later today about Tamara’s disappearance.”
“Call her Tammy.” Brock shook his head. “People who live outside of town don’t want to be bothered.”
She’d already figured that out. “Listen, Osprey. Alaska is part of the United States. Hank died on federal land, and I can make the argument that Tammy disappeared on federal land, or atleast worked on a government project for EVE, which surely has government contracts, so the cases are federal if we want them. We do.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “For a woman who wanted to fit in by using her first name and not her title, you sure fell back on the agency real quick.”
Heat filtered into her cheeks that he’d figured her out so quickly. “The FBI appointed me as special investigator in these matters, so you might want to remember that I have the full force of the federal government behind me.” Yeah, she sounded like a tight-ass.
His smile was slow and daunting. “Darlin’, you’re in the middle of nowhere. Even the federal government can’t find you here. You might want to keep that in mind.”
A lone, solitary chill clacked down her spine. Was that a threat?
CHAPTER SIX
Brock had just placed his hand on the diner’s door when the hum of a snowmobile caught his attention. Ace came into view through the darkness, his headlights on and a black knit hat low on his forehead.
“No helmet?” Ophelia asked, pausing next to Brock.
It was a miracle his brother had bothered to come for dinner. “His hard head would dent any rock it might hit.” He’d talk to Ace later about being a dumbass and not wearing a helmet. Hank had always made sure they had something on their heads.
Snow drifted gently down, covering them as Ace stopped the machine at the curb and stretched off, his gaze on the agent through the dark night and billowing snow. “I’m glad I shaved. Hello.” He even took off his glove to shake her hand.
Brock barely kept from rolling his eyes. “Special Agent Ophelia Spilazi, please meet my brother, Ace.”
They shook hands. “Call me Ophelia.”
Was it Brock’s imagination, or had her voice softened? A spurt of something he didn’t like blared through him, and he grunted, yanking the door open. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”
The smartass look Ace cut him might get Ace another bruise to match the one on his jaw from earlier. “After you, Sheriff.”
Ophelia stumbled and then partially turned, her dark hair swishing and dropping snow onto the interior rubber mat. “Sheriff?”
“No,” Brock said, pausing inside the doorway just as Ace chuckled, moving past them and the long, wooden counter that ran the length of the kitchen. Ace headed for a table in the back, next to a roaring stone fireplace. Christmas decorations showed on each table with bulbs and smiling Santas.
Ophelia’s eyes darkened to a midnight blue, and a fine pink filled her pale cheeks. “Why did he call you?—?”
“Hey, Sheriff.” Gus leaned down on the other side of the window from the kitchen, his huge frame filling it. “Looks like you brought the FBI lady here. Thought you was gonna drop her butt in Anchorage.” His grizzly gray eyebrows drew down.
“Knock it off, Gus.” Janet, his wife, stood up from behind the counter, her hands full of straws. Gray liberally streaked her black hair, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Hi, hon. Welcome to Knife’s Edge.”
“Thank you,” Ophelia said, her head tilting. “Did you call him thesheriff?”
Gus snorted. “The sheriff eats for free, as you know. You eating for free, Brock?”
“No,” Brock growled, grasping Ophelia’s elbow and propelling her past several empty tables.
