Okay, enough of that nonsense.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the imagery, and scooped up her papers as she stabbed the power button to shut down her computer. Miranda didn’t know how she’d manage to forget all she and Jeremiah had done, but she’d have to figure out a way because at the moment it seemed downright impossible to work side by side with the man and not want to stick her tongue down his throat.
And that just made her grouchy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JEREMIAH CLIMBED INTO Miranda’s Range Rover and immediately noted how tidy the interior was. “Not a fan of clutter, I see.”
It was true she didn’t care for clutter, possibly because her mother was such a pack rat, but the fact that he noticed just how meticulous she was with her vehicle made her shift uncomfortably. It was as if he’d somehow caught a glimpse into her inner psyche and that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. “And in your experience are most women comfortable with a mess?” Generally, she hated when someone answered a question with another question but she couldn’t help herself when it came to Jeremiah. Just being around him put her on the defensive. “It’s not so much that I hate clutter—it’s that I hate disorganization. I like being able to find whatever I need, when I need it.” Why was she explaining herself? She should’ve just left her answer and moved on. “How about we only talk about work rather than personal details?”
“I make you uncomfortable.”
“Of course you do.” Why should she lie? “But given our relationship, aren’t you uncomfortable, as well?”
“I thought we agreed to act as adults?”
Of course he would point out that she was being the difficult one. She glared for lack of a good defense. He held her stare. Finally, she shrugged and admitted, “We did.”
He released a sigh as if disappointed. “What if we hadn’t met the way we did? Would that have changed our relationship?”
She shot him a warning glance. “I don’t deal in hypotheticals. We can’t change the fact that we know each other intimately. I would love to step back in time and redo that decision but we can’t. What happened, happened. We just have to deal with it. But the more you bring it up, the more it’s in our faces. We need to be able to work together as peers and we won’t be able to do that if you keep talking about what we did.”
She didn’t know if she was angry with him because he kept bringing it up or if she was just angry at the circumstances, but she couldn’t prevent the snap in her tone. The fact was, as much as she tried to bury it, the memory of their night together continued to badger her at the worst moments. She wanted to lean in to catch a whiff of his cologne; her gaze was drawn to every muscular line in his body. The fact that she couldn’t push him from her mind as readily as any other man from her past irritated her.
“Can we please just get to work?” Focusing on a detail within her scope of expertise was the most efficient way of stopping the inappropriate thoughts and conversation. However, she stopped to ask him a question that had been bugging her. “Whatever brought you to Alaska, anyway? According to your bio you had a pretty good job where you were. Why would you want to start over in a foreign place with people you don’t know?”
Jeremiah’s expression shuttered and she knew right away there was something painful he was protecting. She knew that look. She knew it deep in her bones. She knew it the same way she knew the discomfort of an old, worn shoe that in spite of the damage it was doing to your foot, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. Whatever he was protecting, whatever pain he was trying to suppress, it was something that rode him without mercy just as Simone’s death rode her every single day of her life. The fact that she could sense the pain inside of Jeremiah caused her to mentally stumble. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She didn’t want to know his pain. She didn’t want to know what caused that look in his eyes. She didn’t need reasons to identify with Jeremiah Burke.
Jeremiah accepted her exit from the conversation and simply jerked a nod. “Tell me about the suspects in this case.”
* * *
JEREMIAH COULDN’T BELIEVE how swiftly one single, innocent question from Miranda managed to tilt him on his ear. He’d known people would ask why he would leave a good job in Wyoming to come to the wilds of Alaska. And he’d had a ready answer. But when she’d asked that single question he couldn’t give her the practiced speech he’d prepared. It’d been on the tip of his tongue to admit that his son, Tyler, had been killed and he couldn’t fathom staying another minute in the place where there were so many memories. For a heartbeat, he almost envisioned sharing his personal pain with a total stranger.
Okay, she wasn’t a total stranger but he really didn’t know her. He didn’t know who she was. And what he did know about her, he wasn’t sure he agreed with. He was grateful she had given him an out. But in that moment he’d seen something in her eyes, something that identified with him in a way that shocked him to his toes. There was something in Miranda’s past, something she was just as sensitive about as he was about Tyler. Something told him he could probably find out fairly easily where her pain originated. That was the beauty of a small town. But going behind her back and snooping into her past seemed wrong. If Miranda wanted him to know what she was protecting, that information ought to come from her. Not that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d share.
* * *
“JUDGING BY THE EVIDENCE, what little there was left behind, we think there are five men involved. But that’s pure speculation because they cover their tracks so well. Sometimes I wonder if they’re somehow making it look as if there are more people when there’s only two. Who knows? But it’s definitely someone who knows what they’re doing. Which leads me to think that it’s a local. As much as I hate to think that. But who else would know the area the way they do and who else would know how to get in and out of those mountains without dying? It’s rough terrain. An inexperienced person could easily slip and fall to their death in these mountains. But whoever these people are they have the sure-footedness of a Billy goat.”
“Could it be one of the indigenous people?”
Miranda’s expression was grim. “Possibly. I’ve asked around but the tribes around here are pretty tight-lipped when it comes to their own. Even if they knew one of the tribal members was committing the crime, they’d never tell the authorities. They don’t trust easily, and like many indigenous tribes, they have reason to distrust those in authority.”
Jeremiah seemed to disagree with her comment but he didn’t chase after that train of thought and she was glad he’d remained quiet. She was protective of the Yupik and their rights because in her son’s blood ran the proud heritage of the local people. Mamu’s ancestors had fished the frigid waters and lived in harmony with Alaska before any white man had stepped foot on the shores to show them the “right” way to live. “I can check and see if there’s been any poaching crimes that fit the M.O. of the poachers here and see if anything pops up that might help. If they’re running a black-market operation, chances are they aren’t hunting only in Alaska.”
Miranda nodded. “That’s true. I made some inquiries but no one seemed all that interested in miring themselves in research for someone else’s pet project.”
“Poaching doesn’t rate on the same level as homicide or even grand theft. Every federal agency is underfunded and understaffed these days it seems. No one wants to take on more work than they have to,” he said.
“Don’t I know it,” she grumbled. “I’ve had a heck of a time getting anyone in our office to lift much more than a finger to help. No one is interested in fieldwork these days and tracking poachers is time spent away from the comforts of a warm office and their topped-off coffee mug.”
“When I was younger I used to spend a lot of time in the field as a ranger. I loved the solitude and the quiet of the mountains. Sometimes I was able to make more sense of what was