Is Anybody Alive? by L.J. Breedlove

Author:L.J. Breedlove
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alaska bush pilot, Native Alaskan, police, woman sleuth, Native American
Publisher: L.J. Breedlove
Published: 2023-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

5 p.m., Monday, May 15, Talkeetna

Dace liked it when she and Paul went home together. There was something about pulling up to the house — their house — and feeling like she was home. She smiled at Paul. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Long day, hey?” he said wryly. She laughed.

You could say that, she thought, as they got out of the car and headed into the kitchen. Paul peered into the refrigerator as if he was looking for inspiration. She poured herself a glass of wine and perched on a stool at the counter to watch. Paul liked cooking, especially after a hard day.

She was contented just to watch. Oh she could cook, if fixing a sandwich counted, and she would, if Paul asked. Usually she made the salad. But Paul liked doing it. He’d told her once that it was satisfying to make something come together instead of pulling it apart. Detective work was about pulling things apart and studying the pieces. Dinner was about assembling the pieces into a satisfying whole.

She’d objected: Detectives then studied those pieces and reassembled them into a case, didn’t they? Paul had shrugged. Well, it was his metaphor, she thought, still amused by the conversation. He could do what he wanted with it.

Whatever inspired him to cook, she was grateful for it.

Tonight apparently it was going to be venison stew. He’d made a big batch of it a while back and froze it. Her stomach growled. It had been good stew, and she’d missed lunch. Paul glanced her way with a smile and continued making biscuits to go with the stew now thawing in the microwave.

They didn’t talk. Dace didn’t do much small talk, and Paul never forced her to — one of the many things about him that she was grateful for. And she didn’t even know where to begin to talk about the day they’d just had. Impossible to talk about anything else either. What? She was going to tell him about the book she was reading? She’d finally started reading Dana Stabenow’s mystery series about Alaska, and she had questions. But not tonight. Tonight, she couldn’t handle any more questions about anything.

“You ready to make the salad?” Paul asked as he pulled biscuits out of the oven. Had she been staring off into space that long? She guessed so. She got up and pulled out the salad greens, a tomato and a green bell pepper. There was an herb ranch dressing that looked good. She glanced at Paul. He was heating the stew on the stove. He liked the microwave for thawing things, but he sniffed at the idea that it was the same as cooking something on the stove.

They ate together companionably, still without speaking. Dace hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until she found herself scraping the bottom of the bowl and then helping herself to seconds. “Really good,” she announced.

“I can see that,” Paul said with amusement. But she noticed he was getting seconds as well.

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