Chapter 9
(Talkeetna. Tuesday morning.)
Lanky Purdue was under one of his planes working on a strut when he heard someone approach. He stilled, shifted his grip on the wrench. When a glance at the uniform pant legs of the man standing next to the plane reassured him, he slid out slowly and stood up.
“Captain Wyckoff,” he said formally. “What can I do for you?”
“You heard from Dace? Or from Paul?” Wyckoff asked.
Purdue hesitated. He knew Wyckoff by reputation only, which was strange because they’d both been in Alaska for a long time. But Wyckoff was a private man, who didn’t seem to socialize. From all Purdue heard, he was also a by-the-book cop.
Unfortunately, it didn’t sound like instructions for this FUBAR were going to be found in the book.
“I got a call from Elizabeth Kitka,” Wy
