Lost in the Wild by Leigh Mayberry (some good books to read .TXT) 📗

The music drowned most of the conversations around them. No one seemed to mind the volume.

“I was serious about the bootleggers. That’s a real thing. What in the world is a bootlicker?” Meghan asked.

Meghan and Dana walked around the main area where most people danced, and more stood on the sidelines watching. Meghan ignored most of the eyes on her. It was territorial and expected. In or out of uniform, Meghan Sheppard, Kinguyakkii Police Chief, was one person no one wanted to have on their heels. Her reputation and experience kept most troublemakers out of her line of sight.

“The city council keeps the town dry,” Meghan explained. “I appreciate that because it makes my job a lot easier. They don’t want alcohol fueling more problems. If we contact someone intoxicated, they already broke the law.”

“What do you do if someone drinks and drives?”

Meghan shook her head. “They go to jail, just like everywhere else. I call the troopers. They send someone out here to transport the prisoner back to Anchorage.”

“What do you do with a prisoner until they state troopers arrive?”

“It depends on the severity of the crime. Someone drinking and driving isn’t going anywhere if we take away the vehicle. We know who he is,” Meghan said. “It’s not like we won’t find him again.”

“What if you get more than a few people causing problems, or you have to make multiple arrests?”

“We do the best we can. I’m down an officer and looking to hire another person. The problem we have is no money and no real place to secure prisoners. We take their state IDs, passports if they have them. We can wait for troopers to show up and collect them when we need to make arrests. We could let them go and pick them up again later.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Dana said.

Meghan understood that in real-world situations, contacting suspects meant to keep them until everything got resolved. Dana saw it as help around the corner that happened all the time, and everything was black and white with case procedures. It wasn’t like that in Alaska, not where Meghan worked. She did her job and wasn’t interested in getting a lesson of proper police procedures from a woman who had the entire federal government riding on her shoulders.

Chapter Four

The evening events had most of the preliminary Alaska Games. Contestants from around the North Slope, as far as Barrow and Point Hope, to the south of Nome and Elephant Point, the young people keeping with traditional interests, competed for big money and scholarships.

The Native Youth Olympics meant any athlete had an opportunity to shine in traditional games, even if they weren’t hockey or basketball players. It was the reason the Memorial Day Celebration had one of the biggest turnouts for people of the north.

Meghan and Dana watched children to elders showing off their skills in arm pulls, wrist carries, Eskimo stick pull, Alaskan high kick, one-foot high kick, and scissor broad jumping. The games had senior and junior divisions.

When it came to the seal hop, Dana saw what it meant to have the endurance to compete between the ages. The seal-like hopping positioned people on their hands and toes. They had to maintain a push-up posture and not allow any other part of their bodies to touch the floor. Boys and girls, men and women, competed between classes where they had to travel a designated distance across the floor, pause, turn 180° and return to the start position.

It wasn’t about timing the contestant, though that was one of the significant factors. Athletes lost time or failed to maintain the mobile plank position. Once they completed the course, they had to maintain the position until judges measured the distance.

“I don’t know if Navy Seals could do that,” Dana said.

“A lot of these kids are in top form. It surprises a lot of people when they see what clean living does for the community.”

The Native Youth Olympics went for the whole two days in and around the sports arena, with Sunday having outdoor presentations, including the blanket toss and kiosk vendors selling Alaska art and food.

“Are you enjoying yourself,” Calvin Everett asked. He came up behind Dana and Meghan. The local reporter for the Northern Lights Sounder spent a lot of time at social events.

“This is Calvin Everett,” Meghan said.

He shook hands with Dana. “You’re Dana Wyatt, FBI field office out of Syracuse, New York,” he said.

Meghan frowned because it wasn’t common knowledge. It wasn’t something she talked to Calvin about directly.

“You’re someone who pays attention,” Dana said. Meghan saw their handshake lingered, and Meghan suspected Dana increased the pressure in the grip. “You think that’s impressive, isn’t it?”

“Well, I do have my moments. But I promise I wasn’t trying to impress you.” He smiled at Meghan. It was a knowing smile. Calvin did his homework. His grounding meant Meghan turned into a cliché in his mind. It frustrated her because at no other point in her life did she think her life and friends were so predictable.

“So, you know me,” Dana said.

Meghan waited because it mattered how Calvin got his information. She knew no one in her department gave away details. She trusted her lieutenant and sergeant with her life and their discretion.

“I’ve wanted to do an exposé on Meghan since she got here,” Calvin said. “I did all my background work. I’m not spying on her, and I’m not trying to sound gauche, or crass, but I saw your photograph more than a few times in the articles I read about Meghan.” He smiled. “You’re hard to forget.”

“Oh, my, Calvin,” Dana said. Meghan saw her friend flush. “You’re smooth. I see you don’t wear a wedding ring. Are you single?”

“Still