For a guy who didn’t want to be in charge, he seemed like a natural.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “Miller boys? Where are you?”
Two young men, probably in their late teens, stepped forward from behind the food. Tall and lean with sandy blond hair, they both wore full snow gear. “Here, Sheriff,” the slightly taller one said. At Brock’s frown, he coughed. “I mean, Brock. Sorry.”
Brock didn’t address the title. “Give me the status of the warming huts.”
The second kid set down his plate. “All warming huts along Samson’s Crick, the bigger river, and the three finger tributaries are stocked and ready to go. The one closest to Jaordney’s Creek, northwest of Pike Creek, crumbled to the ground before fall. Looked like porcupines got to it and ate most of the wood.”
Brock nodded. “Good job, guys. Okay. We have food and drink here, while hot food and relaxation can be found at the diner as usual. Finally, Doc has the clinic open for anybody with injuries. There should be no instances of frostbite. Next to the radios is a box of hand and feet warmers. Take all you want. Let’s go.”
Groups started shuffling toward the door, their snow boots clomping.
Ophelia moved for Brock, surprised again when she had to keep looking up to meet his gaze. “I’d like to help search.” Maybe she could get a feel for the land around them and talk to other searchers.
Brock grunted.
Two men, both grizzled and wide, moved from the bar. “I’ll take you, Agent,” said the first.
“I’m a better driver,” said the second, smiling and revealing a missing front tooth.
Brock sighed. “No. If you’re going with anybody, it’s with me.” He looked at her jacket. “You need snow gear. It’s freezing out there.”
While she didn’t like the order, at least she knew he could drive a snowmobile. She swallowed.
Amka leaned over the bar. “I have an assortment in the back room, Olly. People leave stuff here every winter. I’m sure we can find something for you.”
“I’ll help,” Jarod said.
Amka cut him a look and then gestured for Ophelia to follow her behind the bar and to a swinging door, grabbing a thermos on the way.
Ophelia paused. “I don’t want to slow you down, Brock. I could stay here.” It wasn’t in her nature to stand by and do nothing, but she didn’t have a snowmobile, and she didn’t want to be a hindrance.
“You’ll just cause issues here, and I don’t have time for anything else right now, especially since I’m not the damn sheriff.” His gaze softened slightly. Was he teasing her? “You won’t slow me down, but I’ll be out for quite a while. I’m fine having you ride behind me.”
She really wanted to go. “Okay. I’ll be right out.” She dodged around the bar and pushed open the swinging door to find Amka digging through boxes in a large storage area that led to what appeared to be a back door. An adjacent window showed the day slightly brightening outside through billowing snow. Another doorway to the left led to a small bedroom with a bathroom beyond it. “You live here?”
Amka lifted bright pink snow pants out of a box and stood. “No, but if the weather gets bad, it’s easier to stay here. Also, I sometimes have folks sleep it off.” She winced and held out the pants. “They’re definitely not your color, but they look long enough for your legs.” She eyed Ophelia. “Your very long legs. You lucked out there.”
“Ha.” Ophelia accepted the pants and kicked off her boots to pull the snow pants over her jeans. “It didn’t feel like it when I towered over every boy in the ninth grade.”
Amka chuckled. “Probably not.” She reached for a pair of brown boots with fur over the top. “These are mine. They should fit you. Size?”
“Eight.” No way did they have the same sized feet.
Amka tossed them over. “These are eights because I like to wear three pairs of socks. You’ll be fine with one pair, so long as you use the boot warmers after riding for a while. Make sure you crush them up before inserting them.”
“Thanks.” Movement crossed out back, through the window, and she straightened. “There’s somebody?—”
“I know.” Amka grasped the thermos and unlocked the back door, pushing it open. A man came into view, caught sight of Ophelia, and stopped short of taking the thermos.
Ophelia set her stance, her right hand loose in case she needed to go for her gun. She knew danger when she saw it. The man stood well over six feet, with long black hair and a broad chest. The darkness obscured his features, but something about his eyes caught her attention, even in the dim light.
Amka sighed. “Christian Osprey, meet Olly Spilazi.”
Oh. The mysterious third brother. Ophelia remained in place as Christian took a step closer. The light illuminated him, showing one green eye and one black. His features appeared similar to Brock’s, but she couldn’t pinpoint just one that was thesame. A white wolf, or maybe a huge dog, stepped up to stand by his knee.
“Oh,” Amka breathed, dropping to her haunches and reaching for the wolf-dog.
