he brought it back to the barn and gotten a good look at it, his heart ran as cold as the frozen river Paul had fallen on.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, breaking into Sam’s reverie. “Look, I must have been too close to the edge. It’s not your fault I crashed.”
“In a way it was.”
Paul shook his head, a teasing look lifting the corners of his mouth. “I insisted on taking your sled. Apparently I wasn’t ready for its superior speed and maneuverability.”
“Paul, you don’t understand.” Sam held up a hand, stopping Paul’s attempt to make him feel better about something that should never have happened. “That crash was no accident.”
“What do you mean?” Paul punched the button adjusting the head of the bed upward.
“The stanchions had been cut clean through.”
Silence followed as Paul’s forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. “You sure they didn’t break in the crash?”
“No, they were sawed at the base except a tiny piece to hold it temporarily.” Sam’s mouth tightened. “Someone did it deliberately. Someone who knew what to cut that wouldn’t be obvious.”
“Why?” Paul pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t know, but that crash was intended for me, not you.” Sam jammed his hands into his pockets and paced across the room and back.
“Assuming you’re right and someone actually sabotaged your sled, it could just as easily have been mine. Yours sits next to mine in the barn.”
“Correct, but everyone in Anchorage likes you.” It was true. Sam hadn’t met a soul in the city who had a bad word to say about Paul. “I’m the outsider stirring up trouble for the state.”
“I bust people all the time. It could have been someone I put in jail,” Paul argued.
“Yeah, but you don’t have an entire political venue riding on your work.” Or a past that might have caught up to him. Sam shrugged the thought away. No. He’d assumed a different identity when he’d left the agency. No one knew him by his new name or where he was except his old boss, Royce. As far as Sam was concerned, Russell Samson no longer existed. His old employer had helped him change all his records, even arranging for his name to be altered on his social-security card and Stanford University diploma to reflect his new identity.
“You’re a geologist, not a politician, for Pete’s sake.” Paul scooted into an upright sitting position, wincing as he moved.
“That ankle still hurt?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.” The dark-haired man’s lips twisted. “I’m waiting for the doctor to come back with the results of the X-rays.”
“Think he’ll bar you from the race?” Sam wished he hadn’t let Paul borrow his sled. None of this would have happened—at least not to Paul.
Paul’s forehead creased in a frown. “He’d better not. I’ve invested too much time and money to be excluded.” Paul glanced up. “Any of your dogs injured?”
It was just like Paul to worry about the dogs more than himself. “No. They were fine. A little spooked, but once I untangled their necklines, they were raring to climb back up on the trail and run.”
“Who would tamper with your sled?” Paul’s brows furrowed. “Do you think it was another race contestant?”
“I can’t imagine another musher considering me any kind of threat. I’m a complete rookie at mushing.” Sam shook his head, the scent of alcohol and disinfectant starting to make his stomach churn. “However, I have so many people mad at me about the study, it could be anyone.” His work in the interior had people up in arms on both sides of the political fence. On one side were those who wanted to open up more of the Alaskan interior to roads and progress. On the other side, the environmentalists were fighting tooth and nail to leave it relatively untouched.
“When do you head back to Washington?” Paul asked.
“After the race.” A smile lifted his lips. “Senator Blalock is chomping at the bit to complete the study and get on with making a decision about oil production in the interior.”
“Have you let on to anyone about the results?” Paul leaned forward. “You think the word leaked out?”
“I kept a pretty tight rein on the information. Blalock got a heads-up that the samples weren’t good. Unless he let it slip to some bonehead in Washington, I don’t know who else would know.”
“It’s too bad you can’t let it out. At least the tree huggers would be off your back.”
“Yeah, but Blalock is pretty rabid about finding oil out there. He was the one who got me hired on in the first place.”
“It would be a big coup to bring in more oil to the country. I wouldn’t think he’d be behind the sabotage, would he? Seems he’d be your best friend.”
“Only if the results are what he wants to see.” Sam pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should pull out of the race altogether. The officials don’t need more of a liability than they already have.” And he didn’t like not knowing who was after him.
“Are you kidding?” Paul’s eyes widened. “You’ve worked as hard as anyone to prepare. No way. You’re going.”
“But if someone is after me, I’ll only bring more trouble to everyone else in the race.”
“Assuming someone is after you. Remember, my sled was next to yours. It could have been mine they meant to get. Especially since I plan to win the race this year.” Paul leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I wonder who would think they could only beat me by sabotaging my sled. We need to tell Kat. This is just the kind of puzzle she’d like.”
“I’d rather not.” Over the past two years, Sam had studied the pictures scattered around Paul’s log cabin, pictures of Kat fishing, pictures of her with the dogs or behind a sled. Sam felt he knew more about her just from pictures than actually in person. She looked small but tough, feminine yet strong. A product of her upbringing.
Sam couldn’t admit to Paul he’d harbored a secret attraction to Kat after hearing all the stories of their childhood in Alaska. Meeting her hadn’t changed a thing. In fact, his respect grew even more because she didn’t fall apart when Paul came in unconscious. Leanne would have called the ambulance and wrung her hands, carefully so as not to damage the expensive manicure.
No, Kat was down-to-earth and tough. From what Paul had told him, she had to be. She was in a dangerous business in some secret government organization. Paul had compared it to the CIA.
Sam suspected her job might be with the Stealth Operations Specialists, the business he’d been in while working in D.C. He could find out with a single phone call to Royce, but he refused to make contact with his old life.
Getting on with the S.O.S. wasn’t easy. Kat had to have earned her position there for a reason and it wasn’t based on her appearance. Although she’d left the room, Sam could still picture her jet-black hair as full and rich as Paul’s
