Lost in the Wild by Leigh Mayberry (i am malala young readers edition txt) 📕

sag. When the tears came, they soaked up her shoulder because Meghan wrapped her arms around him and let him cry. She didn’t care who saw her holding the boy, waiting for the sorrow to drain out of him. “I never saw Dad again.”

They talked for a while about how Cecil orchestrated the hoax of his sister’s death. She found out details of Nicole Whitley’s involvement. Their social media connection had a lot to do with her willingness to take Chrissy away from the secret abuse. Eventually, Meghan led Cecil back to his family.

Meghan avoided the family reunion. She weaved around them, using the fence as a guide to get back to the gate. Oliver and Lester veered away from the others. They caught up to Meghan as she moved by the pick-up truck. Duane pulled away from the fence and drove back toward town.

“You want a ride?” Lester asked.

“You still police chief? Or did you quit because you couldn’t deal with the politics?”

Lester gave Meghan a long look. She saw him hold back something negative. “I’ll see you around,” he said finally. Lester got on the four-wheeler and kicked up gravel, pulling away from her and Oliver.

“You want to talk, or do you want me to give you a ride?” Oliver asked.

“I’ll take a ride, thanks.”

As they drove up Third Avenue from the airport, Oliver spoke to Meghan over his shoulder. Meghan held onto the rear rack staring out at the town that grew on her.

“Duane terminated me,” he said. “Think you can write me a letter of recommendation.”

Meghan laughed. “I wanted a letter from Trooper Chandler.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea. You think he’ll write me one too.”

“I hate you lost your job because of me,” Meghan said.

“I don’t care. I trust you. I think it was wrong. They got rid of you because that lady came to town and got into our business. I thought we did alright here.”

“Apparently, it wasn’t good enough for the people who make the decisions.”

The four-wheeler slowed down before Oliver turned down Bison Street. He pulled up in front of Meghan’s house and parked. He sat on the seat, watching Meghan climb the small creaking steps to the front door.

“Do you know what you’re going to do now?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll run for sheriff somewhere in the Midwest. I’d like to stay out of the cities.” She unlocked the door. It was an exercise she had to get used to doing again. “Want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No, I got to help my auntie pull the boat out and prep it for the coming season.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

Oliver shrugged. “I’ll find something. Do you know when you’re leaving?”

“No, I contacted the landlord about the house. I submitted the thirty-day notice. He already has someone renting as soon as I leave.”

Oliver nodded.

“I have to take care of my severance package with the city. I suspect the Borough will want to take time to scold me.”

He shrugged. “See you around,” he said.

“Hey, thanks for fighting for me with Duane.”

“I knew he’d fire me. I didn’t care.” Oliver revved the engine and rode off.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Monday, midmorning, brought a stranger to Meghan’s front door. She’d slept late. She had coffee brewing and needed to make another trip to Ammattauq Native Trader Store for a new bundle of boxes since she lost her last batch chasing leads that weren’t her business. Yet, something made it worthwhile. As a pragmatic, Meghan knew Christine’s relocation would not stay secret. She knew the state had ways of handling child endangerment. Cecil used his cunning to make a difference. In her eyes, more people should listen to him instead of seeing a child.

She opened the door to a man she met once in her career and never expected to see again.

“Can I come in?” Sergio Wilcox asked. He wore civilian clothing, the cold weather insulated jacket, cargo pants, and hiking boots. He looked like a rugged outsider in the northern landscape.

“If you don’t mind, I’m wearing my pajamas,” Meghan said. She moved away from the door in the sweatshirt and yoga pants.

The Anchorage field office Special Agent in Charge walked into the house and closed the door. Meghan went into the kitchen and got a second mug for coffee. She leaned against the counter when Wilcox followed her, scanning the place for all available exits, and any dangers. It was in the eyes. It was in training. He picked up the ceramic mug and took a sip.

“It’s good,” he said. “Thank you.”

Meghan waited. A man like Wilcox, with an entire state to monitor for the FBI, needed a good reason to fly back to Kinguyakkii.

“I want to issue a formal apology from the FBI.” It came out with a hint of irony. Meghan didn’t read much into Wilcox’s inflection. It was the statement that mattered. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the interview of Vincent Atkinson continued during your interaction with Cadet Aston Holmes.”

“I didn’t think much about it.”

“Upon reviewing the audio footage, the Bureau felt Mr. Holmes wasn’t the kind of person we wanted representing the United States Government.”

Meghan bit her tongue to stop from saying anything contrary to the oversight.

“He agreed to not press charges for assault after I recommended we’d not pursue sexual assault against him. I think he didn’t want to end up on the sex offender website.”

Meghan sipped at the coffee to keep from saying anything negative about the former cadet.

“What about Vincent? Are you leaving him alone?”

Wilcox nodded. “You know we’re not interested in whatever he does, as long as it doesn’t involve minors. I’d like to have someone talk to him about the choice in what he collects from