North Country(77)

He answers with, “Miss me already?”

“I might have new information. Well, I do. I just don’t know if it’s useful.” I reiterate what Logan told me.

“So, the Landrys pointed at the Murphys and the Murphys pointed at Logan, and now Logan is pointing at the Murphys again. Who could have foreseen this?”

“Yeah, I get your point, but Logan didn’t know who Axel was until I told him.”

“So the criminal says.”

I grit my teeth at Terry’s snark. “What do you have on Axel?”

“Give me a sec.” Terry’s sigh fills my ear as I wait, my focus divided between the game and the call. “He left the Bale House at 10:15 p.m. in his tow truck and then came back with it around midnight and left a few minutes later, which is when Hank Murphy left. According to Hank, Axel was giving him a ride home. Story checks out.”

“And after that?”

“He says he went home. He was alone, so no strong alibi, but no sign of his tow truck or him around the Bale House after that.”

“But he could have come back to the parking lot in a different vehicle.”

“A third time?” Terry pauses, and I picture him scratching his chin in thought. “It’s not impossible. There were a lot of pickups pulling in and out. We couldn’t ID all of them. If he drives a white, gray, or black F-150—”

“A black one.”

“Well, there you go. That parking lot was jammed with them. If he came in and parked around back, then … yeah. It’s possible.”

“You need to dig into him. See what you can get on his alibi.”

“Will do—”

“Maybe one of his neighbors saw something or has a security camera.”

“I’ve got it—”

“And go further back in Holly’s phone. See if there’s a connection.”

“I don’t know how I ran an investigation without you,” he mutters but follows it with “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

We end the call.

“He thinks I’m lying,” Logan says.

“He’s giving another viewpoint, is all.” Albeit in his typical dickhead fashion. “The Murphys all said they saw you and Holly in the hallway that night, so they’re parroting what Axel saw, and embellishing it.” Information I shouldn’t be sharing.

“Of course they are.” He shakes his head. “Fucking assholes.”

“It’s a good thing you have a strong alibi, right?” I flash him a cutting look and then lean in to add, “You know, the one I gave you, right before you kicked me out of your family’s home on Thanksgiving?” No, I’m not still bitter.

Logan’s lips purse as he shifts to face me, his shoulder leaning against the glass. “It’s a good thing the detachment commander of Cold River’s OPP knew exactly where I was and what I was doing that night.”

He was doing her.

It’s a blunt reminder of how risky that night was for my career. And yet all I can focus on right now is how close Logan is standing, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and how enticing he smells. Like fragrant men’s bodywash. He would have showered off the workday before he came here—a visual I don’t need in my head until I’m home alone, in bed.

“You still ate, didn’t you?” His eyebrow arches, his tone softer.

“There may have been a package of leftovers at our door that night, yes.” A large white casserole dish tucked inside a cardboard box, sitting on our doormat. I found it when I returned from collecting Isla from Dillon’s. It had Annie written all over it, but I suspect she made her son walk it over. “Isla was thrilled. Donna’s a terrible cook.”

“Good. Dillon deserves to suffer.” Logan chuckles, and the tension from moments ago dissipates.

“I told you, I don’t need you lying to protect me,” I whisper, peering up into his handsome face.

“Yeah?” His eyes graze my lips. “What do you need from me, then?”

This arena is always an icebox, colder than the air outside in the dead of winter, and yet the urge to tug off my scarf is overwhelming as sweat prickles my nape.

It takes me a few long moments to gather my decorum. “I need you to stay off people’s radar—”

Two players slam into the boards in front of us, rattling the glass and drawing attention to this spot as the ref calls another penalty.

From the stands, I see Dillon lean over to Donna, and I can imagine what he’s saying.

Is that Emery standing next to Logan Landry?

Is she watching her daughter’s game with that convict, in front of everyone?

Sure enough, a moment later he’s digging out his phone and ten seconds after that, my phone chirps .

I won’t give my ex the satisfaction of checking the message, let alone answering it. “Enjoy the game,” I say to Logan, swiftly walking away from him.

And toward Axel Murphy, wedging myself between him and a parent.

Ian’s son glances over at me before shifting his focus back to the ice, pretending not to know who I am. As if they don’t all have a picture of my face up on a wall somewhere with a strict “Do not talk to her” warning attached to it.

Fine, he wants to play dumb? Two can play that game. I force a wide smile. “Hey, you run Iron Hook Towing, don’t you?” His toque bears the logo.