“Yeah,” Damian said.
Ace scanned the first page, then the next, his jaw tightening.
Well?” Brock pushed. “What is it?”
“Apparently,” Damian said, “when good old Senator Mercer was in college, his girlfriend?—”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ace said, reading. “Went missing and was never found again.”
The fire snapped loudly, and for a second nobody spoke.
“Seriously?” Brock leaned in. “Did he have an alibi?”
“Yeah,” Damian said. “Pretty solid. He was at a fraternity formal across town, and there were plenty of witnesses and photos to back it up.”
Ace closed the file. “Where was good old Senator Mercer when a college student was murdered here a couple nights ago?”
“Showing what a natural he is in the Alaskan wilderness,” Damian answered. “He was doing live social media events and even taking questions.”
“You think his staffers would lie for him?” Brock asked.
Damian shrugged. “It’d be hard to fake live shots, but I guess it’s possible.”
“Speaking of that mess,” Ace said, shifting the file back toward Damian, “are you guys anywhere on that case?”
“Nope,” Brock said. “Though I can tell you your place was cleared. So was your truck. You should be getting the Ford back.”
“Good.” The word came out rougher than Ace intended. The last few days had felt like walking around with a target pinned to his back. He wanted whoever killed that girl found. Fast.
“We need more CCTV on the shops and buildings in town,” Brock said.
Christian shook his head immediately. “Not in a million years. Nobody’s going to go for that. We live in Alaska for a reason, Brock. People like not being watched.”
“I’m with Brock,” Damian said evenly.
Ace looked from one to the other. “I’m with Christian. We don’t want to turn into a city.”
“Yeah, but if we had CCTV, we could at least tell who left with that girl or who followed her,” Brock said grimly.
He wasn’t wrong. Before Ace could answer, the front door opened and a draft of cool evening air rolled across the floor. Ophelia stepped inside, scanning the room. She waved at Amka behind the bar and then made a beeline for them.
“Hey.” Brock pushed back from the table and tugged her down onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Brock,” she protested, though she was already settling in.
He tucked her closer. “What do you know?” he asked quietly.
“Not much,” she admitted. “The troopers are being real tight-lipped. I tried to have a sit-down with them earlier and they were complete buttheads about it.”
“Sorry about that,” Christian said.
“I called Dutch,” Brock added. “He’s on a case outside of Fairbanks.”
Ophelia took the file off the table. “What’s this?” She started to read. “Interesting.”
“We’re wondering if the good ole senator might’ve had something to do with that college student dying the other night.” Ace stared into the fire for a moment, watching a log shift and settle. If Mercer had a history of women disappearing around him—even if it was just rumor—he wanted to know.
“I will say,” Ophelia continued, resting one hand on the open file, “that the domestic violence assertions, as well as the missing girlfriend, were all women close to him. People he dated for a while.”
