Both her sons were more their father than her, which was fine with Amy, although looking into their faces was like looking at miniature versions of Ben. Dexter even bore Ben’s chin cleft. The reminder was both pain and pleasure. She’d loved Ben James with everything in her. And he’d loved her the same way.
They’d been building a good life here in Treasure Creek, Alaska, where they had both grown up. The Alaska’s Treasures tour company had been their dream, a dream that had cost Ben his life. But she never blamed the business or the lifestyle. Danger, like beauty, was part of life and work in rugged Alaska.
Without the revenue from the tour company and the business it generated for the hotels, eateries and other enterprises, the little town of Treasure Creek could become another forgotten ghost town.
A siren ripped the cold, crisp air, and Amy found the sound as sweet as a Christmas carol. After another quick glance at the house, she turned to watch the rotating lights of Reed’s four-wheel drive. His ever-present dog, Cy, sat in the passenger seat, mouth open in a smile.
Dexter stopped crying and moved to a side window. Sammy followed his big brother, dragging the stuffed puppy along at his side. Cy was a particular favorite of her two sons. The one-eyed malamute was usually more personable than his master.
Some of the tension left Amy’s shoulders. Reed was here.
The tough, sinewy chief of police had been Ben’s best friend. Regardless of that awkward, humiliating marriage proposal, Reed was a loyal friend and a great cop. Whoever had broken into her house had just made a fearsome enemy.
Reed Truscott slammed the vehicle into Park and bolted out the door before the truck stopped rocking. In more than a dozen years on the job, he’d never seen this much trouble in Treasure Creek.
“Mack Tanner and his treasure,” he grumbled. People had been traipsing up on Chilkoot Trail for years, searching for the treasure Amy’s great-great-grandfather had buried there during the Gold Rush of 1889. Why did the thing have to be found in his lifetime? And why did Amy have to be in the line of fire?
It was that crazy magazine interview Amy had done. That’s what started all the trouble.
His boots crunched on last night’s new snow as he stalked toward Amy’s Jeep. Part of him expected Miss Iron Woman to still be inside the house. When he told her to get out, he’d intended for her to leave, to get completely away from the crime scene and any hint of danger. But Amy did things her way, so he was relieved to spot her and her little ones safely inside the red vehicle.
How was he supposed to take care of Ben’s family when Amy was so uncooperative?
With her usual, vibrant energy, she hopped out of the car and came to meet him.
An invisible fist clutched his insides. Looking at Amy seemed to do that to him lately.
Stress, he supposed. Or responsibility. The problem had started after Ben insisted Reed take care of Amy and the boys if anything should happen to him. Reed had tried to laugh off the request, but when Ben pressed, he’d agreed. It was almost as if Ben knew he wouldn’t be around to care for his loved ones. And Reed Truscott was a man of his word. He was honor-bound to look after Amy James. To his way of thinking, that honor was exactly why she should marry him.
But he probably shouldn’t mention that to Amy today. She looked in no mood for another marriage proposal. He’d bungled the first time badly enough, though he was still trying to figure out where he went wrong.
Hands shoved into the pockets of her open parka, Amy strode toward him in jeans and a yellow-green sweater that turned her hair to copper fire. The cold, fading sunlight caught in the shoulder-length waves and shot sparks in every direction. She had glorious hair, the kind a man wanted to touch.
Reed’s gut clenched again. He didn’t like thinking of Ben’s wife as pretty, but she was. Amy had been in his head and heart for a long time, first as a friend, but after Ben’s death—well, things changed. And the feelings rolling around inside him were downright uncomfortable.
“You and the boys okay?” He barked the question, more worried about the town’s main citizen than he wanted to show.
Amy nodded, pretending calm, but he’d heard the quiver in her voice on the phone. He was still angry about that. Any scuzzball who upset Amy was going to answer to him.
“Whoever broke in wasn’t after us.”
“This isn’t the first time, Amy. Somebody will do anything to get their hands on that treasure of yours.”
“I know.” Her reply was quiet and reflective as she gazed off toward the mountains to the west. He knew she was remembering the day they’d finally found Mack Tanner’s buried treasure chest. A pair of gun-toting thieves had found it at the same time.
He’d nearly had a heart attack when one of the thugs shoved a pistol against Amy’s temple. If not for Tucker Lawson’s help Amy could have been killed. That moment haunted his dreams.
Since this frenzy over buried treasure began he’d not had a moment of peace. Even though the heavy metal box was locked up in the safe in his office only he and Amy had that information.
The town’s excitement wasn’t helping, either. “Last rumor I heard down at the Lizbet’s Diner estimates the contents of that box at over a million dollars.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “What? Reed, that’s crazy. We don’t even know what’s in the box yet.”
“Tell me about it. The price goes up every day.” Grimly, he perched a hand on the butt of his service pistol. Until lately, he’d never worn it. Didn’t need to. His adopted town was a peace-loving place, filled with good people. Mostly. “Men have killed for a lot less.”
Amy had this crazy idea to wait until Christmas Eve, still four weeks away, to open the chest and present the treasure to the town. He understood in part because the town coffers were empty, and they needed money badly. The schools were in danger of consolidation, the library in danger of closing. Even his office budget was tighter than tree bark.
“You should open the treasure and be done with it,” he said.
Amy took exception. “No! Treasure Creek has faced such difficult times these last couple of years. Thinking about this treasure and speculating about the good it will do for the town has lifted everyone’s spirits. I will not allow low-life scums to rob us of the best Christmas possible.”
Reed suppressed a sigh. He knew she’d say that. This was Amy, as tenacious as Alaskan winter and with a heart as big as the sun. All of Treasure Creek leaned on her, and she let them, encouraged them. Even though she was barely into her thirties, she carried a whole town on her small shoulders.
A man had to admire a woman like that.
But for the chief of police, Christmas couldn’t come soon enough. Once the treasure chest was opened, maybe life would settle down and Amy would be safe again. Really safe.
He started up the drive. “I better have a look inside.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You and the kids stay out here.”
“No way. If anyone was inside, they’re probably long gone, but they also might be lurking in the bushes. I’ll take my chances in the house with you.”
Reed thought Amy might have just paid him a compliment. Though he’d rather she was somewhere safer, her logic made sense. An intruder could just as easily be outside as in. And Reed had the advantage of a loaded pistol.
They fell in step. As they passed Amy’s vehicle, her two little boys tumbled out and followed.
“Chief Reed, someone broke our stuff.”
Reed gazed down at the knee-high child. Dexter’s little head was tilted back, looking up with big gray eyes that trusted the police to do something. Police business Reed could handle,