Love at First Light (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 6) Read online

  Love at First Light

  Jennifer Bernard

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Bernard

  Prologue

  The first time Ethan James nearly died was at the age of six. He’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest and gotten stung twenty-three times before his sister Olivia had dragged him away. The next time, he was ten. He went into a brief coma after reacting badly to anesthesia during surgery on his leg. No one thought he’d pull through, but lo and behold, he did. Close shave number three came when he was twelve and he’d decided that climbing a tree with his leg in a cast would be a good idea.

  The brushes with death didn’t stop after he’d—despite the setbacks—survived childhood. Over the course of his career as a private investigator, a few more near-death experiences followed.

  By the time he was about to turn thirty, he’d almost gotten used to the idea of flirting with the Grim Reaper.

  But this one felt different.

  For one, he’d never nearly drowned before. That was new. The man chasing him with a car—the cheating husband he’d been hired to follow—had forced him onto a bridge with a flood-swollen river below. It was either jump off the side or get run over by a Lexus. If he had to decide between death by Lexus or death by drowning, that wasn’t a hard choice.

  He probably should have picked a less torrentially rainy day to track his target to his motel tryst outside of Fresno. Flash flood season in California could be so damn dangerous. Every year people died when they got trapped by floodwaters. He hoped everyone driving this route would be extra careful—though it might be too late for him. When his car had refused to start, he’d been forced into fleeing on foot.

  Without any further thought, he leaped off the bridge, the speeding Lexus nipping at his heels like the dogs of the Underworld.

  The churning water rushed toward him. He knew he had to do his best rag-doll act when he hit the water. Don’t resist. Surrender. Now. Do it. He filled his lungs with air, went limp and closed his eyes as his body collided with the river. Cold. So cold. And fast and wild. The current batted him around like a cat playing with a mouse. He tried to right himself, to work with the flow, to find the surface. He was running out of air, his lungs aching, the urge to suck in water irresistible.

  And then his head hit something brutally hard and the black pain erased everything around him. No more river, no more rapids, no more Lexus, no more fear.

  He was somewhere else. A meadow. Tall golden grass waved in a gentle breeze. Butterflies flitted past him on important but obscure missions. The air felt sweet on his face; his sense of smell seemed to be amplified. How was that possible if he was dead?

  And there was a woman next to him in a gauzy white dress. He couldn’t see any specifics about her because the sun was shining right in his eyes. Was she an angel? The angel of death? He was dead, right? Finally? Sorrow made his heart heavy.

  Then he realized that their hands were linked together. In her other hand, she held a bouquet of bright wildflowers.

  A bride? Was it Olivia? Was she getting married? Was he her best man? Where was Jake?

  No, none of that was right. In a flash, he understood. The groom was him. He was getting married. In a fucking meadow. He never spent time in meadows. West Covina didn’t have any, as far as he knew. “What the…?”

  He sat bolt upright, finishing that sentence with a very loud “fuck?”

  The meadow was gone, replaced by a gaggle of medical types wearing masks and scrubs. A strong fluorescent light shone in his eyes.

  “I’m not dead?” he asked.

  A doctor pushed him back down onto the gurney. “Not anymore. Stay still, please. We’re trying to keep you alive here, but you have to help us out.”

  He settled back down, heart racing. His body throbbed like one gigantic all-encompassing bruise. Not anymore? That implied he’d been dead, but survived. Once again he’d slipped from death’s grasp. Incredible. Another near-death experience. And this one came with a vision.

  Or, more likely, a delusion. Because one thing he knew for sure—he had no intention of getting married in a meadow. Or anywhere else, for that matter. With his medical history, he didn’t seem like a good bet for anyone he cared about.

  But the feeling of that vision—that delusion—clung to his senses as he drifted back to sleep. The scent of antiseptic had joined the flowers and grasses of the meadow, all just as strong as before. He knew from experience that almost dying could change a person. Could it enhance his sense of smell? Would it do other things to him?

  When he woke up next, the medical crew was gone. His girlfriend Charley sat near his bed, tapping something into her phone. She must have come straight from an appointment with a client, because she always wore white during her life coaching sessions. She said it gave her patients a sense of calm.

  A tailored white linen dress, in this case. Nothing like the one in his vision. But why quibble over details?

  It seemed pretty clear what he had to do next.

  Chapter One

  Two months later

  This wasn’t the first time Ethan James had found himself in trouble with the local authorities. As a private investigator, sometimes he worked with them, sometimes he got on their nerves. But they didn’t usually arrest him and toss him in jail.

  Welcome to Lost Harbor, Alaska, where before last night he’d mostly been worried about bear encounters.

  “We have a new police chief,” the arresting officer informed him as he fingerprinted him. “She runs a very tight ship. Sorry, man. Blame her, not me.”

  “Chief Maya Badger. Yes, I know. She’s the one—“

  “Nope.” The sergeant threw up a hand to stop his explanation. He was friendly enough, with a sunny smile and a fringe of white beard, like a Santa in uniform. “I’m just doing my job. Letter of the law. Following orders. Not my fault. Filling out reports. Dotting I’s and crossing T’s. Just the way she likes.”

  Obviously this guy was hellbent on putting him in that cell. Ethan gave in and handed over his personal items, which didn’t amount to much—wallet, rental car keys and phone. He hadn’t even checked into the Eagle’s Nest yet. That was where he’d stayed on his previous trips to Lost Harbor; but those had been financed by clients. This trip was different.

  Very different. He chuckled to himself as the sergeant steered him into the small holding cell tucked into a corner of the bullpen area of the police station. Its door had a small window, with bars in place of the glass. At the back of the cell there was another window that looked out on the inviting grove of birch trees behind the station. At least there was a view. If he had to spend a night in jail, he could do worse.

  He spread his arms wide, realizing he could ne
arly touch both walls. “It’s a good thing Lost Harbor has such a low crime rate so I have the place to myself.”

  “We’re a little cramped for space here,” the sergeant explained. “They’re building us a new station, but for now, it is what it is.”

  “I’ll have to come back in a year and get arrested again,” Ethan said dryly as the cell door closed behind him. “I promise to rewrite my Yelp review.”

  “Funny. Okay then, Ethan S. James. Enjoy your night.”

  “It’s off to a great start, can’t lie.”

  The officer snorted and shuffled off. Ethan realized he hadn’t been granted the traditional one phone call, but since it was three-thirty in the morning, he’d just suck it up until Maya Badger showed up.

  She’d asked him to come here, after all. True, she hadn’t asked him to hack into the police station’s database and pull all the records related to one “Spruce Grouse,” aka S.G. But old skills never went away, and with an antiquated system like Lost Harbor’s, he could hardly be expected to ignore such a tempting opportunity to get a head start on this case.

  He settled onto the bench that lined the back of the cell and stretched out his legs. His right leg was aching vaguely, with a kind of desultory whine, like a kid asking “are we there yet?” He rubbed it automatically, out of habit, even though what he really needed was a hot bath and a bed.

  “You’ll have to wait, buddy,” he murmured to his leg. “Behave or I’ll switch you out for a pirate peg leg.” He’d gotten into the habit of talking to his troublesome limb when he was a kid, and had never quite shaken it.

  “Eh?” shouted Sergeant Santa.

  “Nothing,” he called back. “Can you keep it down? Gonna try to get some Z’s. Any chance you got some of those eye masks, like on a plane? It’s so damn light in here.”

  “Teach you not to commit crimes in Alaska in the summer.”

  Ethan grumbled to himself and settled his back against the wall. Was “crime” really the right word? Maya Badger, the police chief, had hired him for this case, after all. On the phone, she hadn’t set down any “rules” about “computer access.” At worst, he was just an overeager new colleague.

  The light from the little window above his head cast a shadowy blue glow into the cell. From where he sat, the other window, with its aluminum bars, gave him a view of the police station’s acoustic tile ceiling. A sepia stain shaped like Florida spread across two of the tiles.

  If only he could drag the bench to the front of the cell, so he could enjoy the view of the woods behind the station. Then his first night back in Lost Harbor would at least include some sightseeing. He loved this little town clinging to the edge of the Alaskan wilderness. With its magnificent setting on Misty Bay, right across from the snowcapped mountains and deeply forested slopes of Lost Souls Wilderness, it had a special mystique that had stayed with him even back in the James Agency office in humdrum West Covina, Los Angeles.

  This was his third trip to Lost Harbor. He’d met Maya on his first trip, when he’d worked with her to protect Padric Jeffers, the rock star, from death threats. He respected her, but they certainly weren’t close friends.

  This last time, the Alaska phone number had flashed on his phone in the middle of an argument with Charley.

  His new fiancée.

  Who wanted him to quit being a private investigator.

  “You don’t have a real schedule.” She’d been ticking off her complaints on her fingers. “Your life is so unpredictable it’s impossible to make plans. And what about all the people who apparently want to kill you?”

  “But they keep missing the mark,” he pointed out.

  “You’re not taking this seriously. Are you forgetting that I’m a life coach? This is exactly the kind of thing I advise people about.”

  “I’m not your client. And I enjoy my work.”

  “Oh, so you enjoy nearly drowning?”

  “No, that was a low point. Gotta admit.”

  “Okay, what do you enjoy about it? How does it serve you?”

  Ohh, that life-coach talk really got under his skin. How could he explain that it made him feel more alive than the computer work he used to do? He liked throwing his body into things. It was his body. Not the surgeon’s or the oncologist’s. His, to risk as he wanted.

  She tried another approach. “You don’t want me to worry, do you? Some things have to change when you get married. You have to accept that.”

  Just then, Maya’s call had come in. He’d listened to her outline the situation. Spruce Grouse, known as S.G., was a mysterious runaway girl who’d been raised in Lost Souls Wilderness by a trapper who had found her as a baby. She’d recently become eager to find out her true origins, and had asked Maya to help her. With Maya’s recent promotion to police chief, she didn’t have enough spare time to investigate the mystery of a teenage runaway’s origins.

  He said ‘yes’ before they so much as discussed terms.

  Before Charley could scold him, he took her hand. Cool to the touch, neutral nail polish. His future bride. Was this how her hand had felt in his vision? He couldn’t remember.

  “One last job,” he told her softly. “It’s in Lost Harbor, Alaska, and it won’t involve any vengeful husbands or crazed Lexus drivers. It’s a cold case, really. We’ll be trying to figure out the true identity of a fifteen-year-old kid. I’ve been to Lost Harbor before, and it’s a tiny little fishing town with a low crime rate. I’ll be facing no danger. Should be back in a week.”

  “Just one week?”

  “One week.”

  “Do you promise that it’ll be your last job?”

  He nodded, though it took everything in him to do so. If he was going to marry her, he should try to make her happy. “Last one. You can even come with me. It’s a magical place.”

  “My schedule is beyond booked, you know that. Besides, Alaska…” She shivered. “No thanks.”

  One last job.

  He’d never imagined that it would land him in jail on his very first night back in Lost Harbor. But whatever. It was just a few hours. As soon as Maya Badger came into the station, she’d spring him out of here.

  Another thing he’d learned long ago was how to sleep in uncomfortable places and positions. He managed to doze off despite the sporadic sounds of phones ringing and voices and metal chairs screeching against the floor.

  What woke him up was a smell.

  Not just any smell. A divine fragrance wafting through the bars of his cell door like Tinkerbell riding an air current—if Tinkerbell was bringing him spiced coffee cake. Ever since his near-drowning, he’d been acutely sensitive to smells. It was weird, and it hadn’t faded in the months since the incident.

  Light footfalls sounded on the floor outside the holding cell.

  “Hello?” a female voice called. “Is anyone here? Maya?”

  Ethan stiffly pushed himself off the bench to stand up. He wobbled there for a moment, gaining his balance. Come on, buddy. Don’t let me down. “Hello? I’m here. Hungry as a horse.”

  The footfalls paused. “Who said that?”

  “Over here. In the corner. Behind the bars. Don’t worry, I’m not dangerous, though a little breakfast might help with that. ‘Hangry’ is a real thing, you know.”

  “Oh, I know, believe me. I see it firsthand every morning, as soon as the bakery doors open.” Her voice came closer, and a few seconds later she was peering through the bars at him. Rich auburn hair backlit by the office fluorescents. Curious amber eyes, a merry smile. “Who the heck are you? I don’t believe I know you.”

  “Ethan S. James. Nice to meet you.” He gave her a little salute, like a military officer. “And you are?”

  “Not about to introduce myself to a prisoner.”

  “Good policy in general. But I’m not supposed to be in jail. It’s a mistake, and as soon as Maya realizes it she’s going to be furious and full of apologies.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “That doesn’t sound like Maya. She ruined my sued
e jacket in a snowstorm once and she still hasn’t apologized.”

  Was this girl for real? He was in jail and she was ranting about a suede jacket? Talk about frivolous. She was pretty; maybe too pretty, the kind of girl who got by on her looks. The opposite of his sister and his fiancée. He liked brains in a woman.

  But clearly she knew Maya, and maybe that meant she could help him out.

  “Sounds like you’re pretty close to her.”

  “Besties since third grade. Except for sixth grade, half of sophomore year, and part of our early twenties. Long story. Several long stories, come to think of it. I can tell you if you’re interested, since you seem to have plenty of time. You’re literally a captive audience. Our sixth grade fight was the worst, it started when she was sitting in front of me and I pulled her braid to get her attention. I only intended to offer her some Juicy Fruit but she thought I wanted to mess with her about the half-assed job her mom had done on her hair and—“

  Oh my God. Was this story going anywhere? Was it worth listening just to pry some information out of her?

  Good thing Charley was nothing like this. They might disagree about things like the dangers of PI work, but she was a practical, sensible person just like he was. That was why people trusted her life coaching skills.

  “Are you sure Maya wants you spilling all her secrets like this?” he interrupted at the first possible moment.

  “Oh, none of it’s a secret. We had an epic fistfight right there in class. Hair pulling, eye gouging, the whole thing.”