Northern Alaska, Friday Evening
Jarod looked out into the darkness, then turned back into the cabin. Christmas gifts had been sent (a stuffed moose for Sydney and snowballs for Parker (and, technically, Angelo, since he'd sent them to Angelo at a pre-arranged post office box, since snowballs didn't count if they weren't thrown)), and he'd spent weeks in the sim, and talking to trainers, meeting the dogs, getting them to listen to him.
Tomorrow, he'd wake up before dawn and head north. Not that he was particularly looking for anything, but if he happened to locate a large man in a red suit with white hair and beard and a booming laugh while he was off trying to prove exactly how a champion Iditarod dog-trainer was killed, and by whom, well...
Plus, then he could get his hands on that list. He had a few things to add.
Tomorrow, he'd wake up before dawn and head north. Not that he was particularly looking for anything, but if he happened to locate a large man in a red suit with white hair and beard and a booming laugh while he was off trying to prove exactly how a champion Iditarod dog-trainer was killed, and by whom, well...
Plus, then he could get his hands on that list. He had a few things to add.