The Season of Killing by Leigh Mayberry (top romance novels .TXT) 📕

“Make sure you’re leaving soon, too,” Lester said.

“I promise,” she said. “Next you’ll be telling me I’m stinking up the office.

Without words, Oliver’s eyebrows spoke volumes.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 Saturday morning, the post office had more people waiting inside the warehouse lobby than the last basketball game Meghan attended in the high school gymnasium.

Pleasant neighbors and acquaintances shuffled together, shoulder to shoulder, creating a logjam of warm bodies. It wasn’t exactly a holiday atmosphere inside the place. The post office lobby had three employees attending to customers. Last-minute packages took hours longer than most people had patience.

Meghan and Lester did their best, struggling through the lines. They weren’t interested in anything more than getting to the back. So far, no one wielded an ax or started a fight. As long as they all played nice, the police would leave them alone.

“How are you holding up?” Meghan asked.

Barbara met them again in the area behind the storeroom door. They had less space. More pallets of wrapped boxes occupied the entire backroom. Freight filled every foot of the bustling backroom.

“I haven’t had time to process everything,” Barbara explained. “We decided to let Eric transport Mom to Anchorage. It seemed like the right thing to do. My sister is handling things there.” Barbara looked at her empty hands. Meghan saw chaffed hardworking hands. “She’s going to see Norman tomorrow at the hospital. If the troopers let her,” she added.

Barbara gave Meghan a look of satisfaction. The kind of look that suggested the woman changed her opinion about Meghan. First impressions sometimes needed perspective. Barbara realized Meghan’s complicated job took the worst of people and tried to make sense of their lives.

“What’s going to happen to my nephew?”

Barbara’s question took ownership of Norman. It didn’t surprise Meghan. Accountability meant she had a stake in the young man’s future.

“I think he’s going to do some jail time because of the circumstances around the money. We’re still working out the details with the troopers.” It was more than Meghan wanted to share with the woman about ongoing charges. “Money sometimes makes people forget or forgive where it comes from.”

The noise inside the backroom took over the quiet between the three of them. Sorting boxes, chattering workers, and the local radio station playing Christmas music reminded Meghan the holidays had arrived.

“I got to get back to work,” Barbara said. She wasn’t interested in small talk. Before Meghan responded, the woman embraced Meghan. She squeezed her and whispered, “Thank you.”

Leaving the overloaded building, Meghan and Lester saw the fire marshal pull up on Shore Avenue. In a town where parking lots meant anywhere near stable structures, the only place left to park was on the road.

Beyond Shore Avenue, where the bay water met the shoreline, people started using the subjective ice flow that started piling against the breakers. Meghan had her fill with snowmobiles on ice. She left it unchallenged when people made a parking lot of the thickening ice.

“Hey,” Rowland called to them as Lester and Meghan walked away from the entrance. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to have lunch.” Meghan acknowledged Rowland as a fellow officer when it came to the preservation of buildings from fire. But his inabilities to communicate with her regarding the trip to Noorvik made her feel like he wasn’t someone to take seriously at times.

“I’m going to need some help clearing the lobby in there. They are way beyond capacity.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rowland,” Lester said.

“We’re off duty,” Meghan added. “Riley and Oliver are dealing with the department. They can’t help you either.”

“What about the fire codes?” Rowland called. More people slipped around him, heading into the overflowing mass of human bodies.

Meghan turned around and shrugged. She continued walking with Lester along Shore Avenue. It was 23°F. With the additional snow, the town had a sweet hush of white. Across the bay, where the mountains parted, making the wide mouth of the natural harbor, Meghan saw a glimpse of sunlight. A sliver of the pale orb skirted the horizon. The overcast had cracked, and the sun managed to peek out for a few minutes that day before it sank below the horizon again.

It proved something to Meghan. The sun didn’t completely set during the winter in the arctic. Unlike Barrow, Alaska, where sixty-seven days without sunlight meant they had to wait to see it again. There on the horizon of Kinguyakkii, thirty-three miles above the Arctic Circle, the sun teased the sky.

The insipid orange globe kissed the Bering Sea. It gave Meghan a little joy that day. She and Lester wandered along the street. People on four-wheelers and snowmobiles raced by them walking. A few people waved. Meghan waved back.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 Christmas on a Wednesday meant nothing to Meghan. The work completed, the charges filed, she wanted the day to recuperate. Saturday night, Meghan went to bed early after her lunch with Lester. It meant she got as far as the couch when sleep kidnapped her. She tried watching classic holiday movies on her laptop. Meghan never got around to buying a television. Cable and satellite expenses weren’t worth paying when she spent more time at work than at home to use it. The Internet was a necessity.

She had laundry to do, and Meghan meant to clean the house. She hadn’t dusted in a few months, so a few more days wouldn’t matter.

It was sometime early Sunday morning when someone knocked on the front door. She didn’t wake up immediately. Meghan’s brain suggested the knocking was part of the dream. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the living room of her house. Like most people in town, Meghan drew her shades in the winter. With no sunlight outside, she didn’t want to advertise her home fashion wear. Neighbors didn’t need to see her