Page 13 of Falling For Alaska

“Can I ask you something too?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. He raises his brows, studying me.

“Sure.” I wait a few seconds, unsure of what’s wrong with me, why I’m so stuck on a girl I barely know.

“Alaska,” I say it quietly, like her name shouldn’t be said aloud. He leans in, hands folded together, waiting. “What h-happened to her? Everyone here seems...really worried about her.”

He glances sideways. “You like her or something?” I don’t answer, but my silence answers for me. “A few years ago she... Whatever. That’s not my business to tell. Sorry,” he mutters. “If you want to know what happened to Alaska, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

My mouth pulls to the side. “I don’t know her.”

“Yet,” he says, pointing at the sky. “You don’t know her yet. Small town, Jack. In a year, you’ll know everyone and everything.”

“Not sure about that.”

“Trust me. Nothing stays buried too long here.”

“All right then.” I let it go and wait a moment before standing. Jared joins me, and we shake hands before heading to our cars.

“We’ll start next week on the cold cases, if that’s all right with you,” he declares.

“Sure,” I reply, opening the metal door and sinking into the driver’s seat like a stone. I just got here, and already there’s so much I want to know. Mysterious disappearances, bodies in the lake, cold cases…and her. I start the engine and crank the heat. Cold air slips from my mouth.

Alaska, what happened to you?

I guess I have a year to find out.

Chapter Six

JACK

Two weeks flew by while the icy temperature settled in Lakeside. Two weeks spent nose deep in cases Jared and I reopened at the station. An endless pile of missing persons in the county from thirty years ago, Captain Fletcher wants us to tackle. Despite the amount of info-dumping, leads, and locations, I kept her in the corner of my mind. Unable to erase from my memory. Those deep cherry lips, her pale translucent skin, the round shape of her face, and the silk of her brown hair. Alaska has been claiming my mind for weeks, and still, I haven't talked to her since that day in the woods.

But I have seen her.

Almost every day since the dinner at Jared's parents’.

I’m not stalking her. Not really. Not technically. Let's say I’m just getting my daily fix of her big blue irises and small silhouette, reading her books in her shop as I’m driving down Main Street in the morning to check on my fellow citizens. I mean, it's part of the job, patrolling around town, making sure everyone is safe, and reminding people to behave. I'll admit, I drive slowly each time I pass by her shop, so that I can get a few more seconds of her angelic face. Her graceful way of moving. Her shy nature as she talks to customers. That girl is warming my chest like a fireplace on a cold winter night and it’s simply too good to stay away from.

“Hey, you there?” Jared’s voice bounces off the walls of our office.

“What?” I blink, shaking my head back to reality. We’re both in our shared office, our desks facing each other, one window centered on the far wall, and the rest packed with shelves and boxes no one knows where else to put. It’s airy enough, so I don’t mind. Plus, it’s far from the entrance, which makes it better for working in peace. His desk is a chaotic mountain of pencils, papers, and scattered notebooks forming some kind of paper tower, while mine is tidy and organized. Just my computer, a pencil case, and a notebook. That’s it.

“I was thinking we sort cases by date and work our way up. From the labels, there should be seven.”

“Only seven? I thought we’d have way more, with the amount of p-paperwork we’ve got,” I say, waving at the mountain of files crammed into boxes. We’ll have to dig through them page by page. Not that I mind. I like being out in the field, but putting my detective skills to use is just as satisfying. Maybe one day I’ll actually become one, and if that’s the case, I’d better start somewhere. We pull out all the sheets and spread them across the floor, sorting them by case name on the headers.

“Wait…this is weird.” I run a hand through my hair. “Five…six… That can’t be right.”

“What?” Jared glances up at me, one knee on the floor, papers in hand.

“I can’t find the s-seventh,” I say, frowning. “We’ve got the cases from 1990 to 2015, b-but one’s missing, the most recent one.”

“Did you check the archives? You’re sure you grabbed all the boxes?”

“Yeah, even double-checked. I don’t get it. Captain said there were s-seven cases, but there’s only six.” I know I heard him right. And this isn’t like forgetting a candy wrapper; these are files on missing persons in the area. You don’t just misplace something like that.

“We’ll check again. Maybe a file slipped through or got stored somewhere else,” Jared offers, one palm up. Something in my guts says otherwise.

Instinct, son, my dad used to say. It never lies.