Ophelia cast Brock a look and then refocused on Leo. “Is there any chance Hank and Tammy had relations?”
Heat flushed down Brock’s back. “Hank would never have slept with Tammy since he considered Leo a friend.”
Leo nodded. “Totally agree. They weren’t there together.”
Ophelia put her palm to her forehead. “Okay. So what? Eighteen months ago, in the summer, Tammy had liaisons with tourists, none of whom you know.”
“Not just in the summer,” Leo groused. “She kept it up until we got divorced. But at least her taste improved after that.”
Warning ticked down Brock’s back. Why? He didn’t know. “What are you saying?”
Leo looked miserable. “This May, after you left town, Tammy and Ace had a thing. It might’ve only been one night or weekend. She was now living at the Tundra, and I dropped by the kids’ spring soccer schedule and found him coming out of her place. He still had bruises from the plane wreck and wouldn’t meet my eyes.” Leo glanced up, sweeping his hands wide. “I didn’t give a shit. Felt bad for the guy, to be honest.”
Brock’s eyebrows lifted. Ace had slept with Tammy? That didn’t sound like Ace, since he and Leo were friends, but he had gone through a rough time after the plane wreck, which they still hadn’t discussed in any detail. “What the hell?”
Ophelia sat back, looking like her nice buzz disappeared. “Brock?”
“I didn’t know that,” he said.
Ophelia focused on Brock. “When did Ace return to town after his plane wreck?”
Brock crossed his arms. “I left on the first of May, and apparently my brother came home on the fifth. Obviously, if I knew he was coming home, I would’ve stayed. I didn’t know, and I went off the grid until last week.”
Leo nodded. “Don’t blame you. Walkabout is a good way to handle stress, and getting out of the service seems stressful. My brother was a Marine, and he went through the same thing.”
Brock didn’t regret his time wandering the wilds, but he wished he could’ve been there for Ace.
Ophelia lowered her chin. “Leo? What’s the timeframe between when you caught Ace with Tammy and the Tundra burning down?”
Leo shrugged. “Maybe a week? Shit, I don’t remember. I didn’t torch the place because my ex-wife had sex there, and I can’t even pinpoint when she disappeared since she refused to agree to any sort of custody schedule. May was a rough month for Knife’s Edge. I guess Tammy disappeared, the sheriff keeled over in the middle of church, and then the Tundra burned down. We were all scrambling, I guess.”
Brock glanced at Ophelia. “I heard that everybody got out and nobody died in the fire, so that’s good.”
“Leo? While you staked out the Tundra, did you see anybody else of interest?” Ophelia asked.
Good question. Brock sat back to watch her work.
Leo finished his beer. “No. After we divorced, I saw her with Ace, with Fred Jeronimish, and still with Jarod.” He glanced under his lashes at Amka behind the bar. “Fred moved down to the lower forty-eight, but if you want more info, I’d talk with both Jarod and Ace. Sorry, Brock.”
A stone dropped into Brock’s gut. He really didn’t like this.
Leo kicked back his chair and stood. “All right, I’m done with this interview. If you want to ask me anything else, talk to my lawyer. All I’ll tell you is that I have no clue where Tammy is, and considering she hasn’t tried to contact the kids in any way, she’s probably dead. That’s it. Sorry. I truly am.” He turned and lumbered toward the bar to pay his bill.
Ophelia took another sip of beer. “You know, every time I think I have a line on either of these cases, they go in the opposite direction of what I expect.” She gently placed the mug back on the table. “Well, let's go talk to Ace.”
The door opened, and Christian walked in, snow in his hair.
Brock instinctively stood.
Christian moved toward him. “I was out night hunting once it got dark and I think I found Tamara Randsom’s body up by Gravewatch Peak in an old warming hut.” He glanced at Ophelia, keeping his voice to a low whisper. “It looked like something clawed her to death…and gouged out her eyes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The nighttime snowmobile ride took nearly two hours, and by the time Ophelia stretched off the back of Brock’s sled, she regretted insisting on seeing the scene for herself. Her legs were stiff, her spine ached, and her bones felt bruised from the constant jarring over rugged, icy terrain. They had to be at least 4,000 feet above sea level. The air felt thinner, colder—like even breathing here required effort.
Brock knew the area well, and with his headlights, the ride had felt safe.
At least Ophelia had sobered up as midnight approached. Regardless of the late hour, with one body already having disappeared on her in the Alaskan wilderness, she needed to view the scene and take pictures to document this one.
