Free Primal Calling by Jillian Burns Page B

office in Dallas.
    The other two, who had died in Max’s plane crash were also executives at NRT Transport, and, most interestingly, Max was listed as co-owner of the company. Those men weren’t just paying customers. They were Max’s business partners.
    Maybe Max had something to gain by killing his partners. Maybe some sort of insurance payout? But a plane crash seemed a dangerous way to do it. How could he be sure he wouldn’t die too? And what about Ramsey? Was he meant to live? Or had Max had a change of heart? If he were trying to cover up a murder, why would Max have dragged the only witness to his crime twenty miles to save his life?
    None of the men, including Max, had any ties to drugs or previous arrests that she could discover. She’d even called a friend of a friend in the U.S. Customs and Immigration department to see if he could dig up anything. Nada.
    She’d also put a call in to the FAA, but they hadn’tbeen able to answer her questions about the findings from the crash. Someone was supposed to get back to her.
    In the meantime, she was going to enjoy the festival and inquire about Max from his fellow Barrowans.
    Despite the sunshine, the air was crisp, the temperature not much above freezing. Serena wore her new traditional Inuit parka and sealskin mittens. “Do you mind if I record your town’s festivities, Mayor?” Serena held up the convenient palm-size video camera she’d purchased yesterday after her trip to the savings and loan.
    â€œNot at all,” the mayor replied. “And you must call me Edgar.”
    She smiled, aimed the camera at him and pushed the record button. After she got him to introduce himself and pronounce the name of the spring festival, she panned the camera out to film the people lining the other side of the street. Everyone on her viewfinder screen was looking directly at her and waving, and she could hear the buzz of murmurs all around her. She overheard the words “famous star” and “her own cable show” and “be on TV.”
    Evidently word had spread fast from the party her first night here. They thought she was here for her TV show. Not a bad cover. And, actually, it might be possible to have some of this footage edited into the Iditarod piece. But if she ended up with a good story on Max, she’d be able to use what she filmed here for that.
    She kept filming the crowd and stopped, went back. It was Max, with a tiny, gray-haired Iñupiat woman’shand clinging to the crook in his elbow. The old woman smiled at her and waved and drew Max’s attention to Serena. He scowled.
    Serena paused the recording, dropped the camera to her side and waved back to the old woman.
    She hadn’t seen or heard from Max since he’d rescued her from getting lost in the ice fog the other day. She tried to tell her brain to be objective, but just looking at him made her breathing shallow and her heart race. Even hidden behind the shaggy hair and beard he was a handsome man. But there was something more. Something in the depth of his dark brown eyes that called to her. In the way he looked at her. As if he wanted to shove everyone out of his way, grab her by the hair and yank her back to his cave.
    The old woman said something to him and Max leaned down to hear her, then shook his head and replied. His face softened as he spoke to her and when he straightened, he stared down the street.
    Well. She’d been dismissed.
    She lifted the camera and recorded the parade.
    After the parade wound down, the children dragged their sleds to the Middle Lagoon. A boy of about ten or eleven stood with his mother next to Serena. The Iñupiat boy tugged on Serena’s coat. “Am I going to be on television?”
    Serena bent down to talk to the boy. “Maybe. Do you want to be?” She glanced up just then and caught Max staring at the boy. His face revealed little, there was something about the intensity in his