Authors: Dana Stabenow
The sheets on the bed felt soft on her bare skin. Someone had undressed her. Shifting against the pillow, she felt something bulky on the right side of her head. Reaching up, she discovered a bandage taped to her temple. It throbbed when she touched it, and she dropped her hand. She became aware of a solid warmth lying next to her. Cautiously, she investigated. It was a body, not her own. She turned her head and met Bobby's eyes, and managed to summon up what felt like a very weak smile.
"Some guys'll do anything to get laid."
He waggled his bushy black eyebrows. "If the woman is you, it's worth the effort."
"I bet you say that to all the girls." Her head gave a vicious throb, and she winced, her face paling.
His smile faded. He raised one hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. "How you feeling, woman? Head hurt?"
She closed her eyes and thought. "Not much more than if a guy was whanging away at the inside of my skull with a sledgehammer."
"Oh well, then you're definitely recovering." "What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
She started to shake her head and thought better of it. "I don't even remember how I got here."
Bobby rose up on one elbow. "I don't know how you got here, either.
About six last night I heard this thump out on the porch, which was you falling on your face, and I heard Mutt bark. When I opened the door, I thought you were dead. I think Mutt thought so, too; she didn't want to let me touch you. You were a mess, woman, blood all over your face and in your hair and down the front of your jacket and shirt. Looked like you'd been the whole month at Hue, and you smelled that way, too."
"What happened then?" "I managed to get the goddam wolf quieted down and hauled you inside. I stripped you and washed you off you tie that bandanna around your head?"
Kate's brow puckered. After a moment she gave a slow, careful nod. "On the boat. When I woke up. I think."
"You must have done it after it stopped bleeding. It didn't stick when I took it off, and it was a lot less bloody than the rest of you."
Kate frowned. "I remember now. Mutt was licking me when I woke up."
"Oh. Good for her. Anyway, I got you cleaned up and into bed. I kept waking you up every hour or so, talking to you, feeding you sweet tea.
At first all you could get down was a sip or two, you were cold and clammy, I was an inch away from calling for a medivac. Then, finally, you started to warm up, and I could let you sleep." He looked at her.
"I'd like to say right now, you have not been a fun date. Let's not do this again anytime soon."
She gave a ghost of a laugh. "Sorry. I'll try to do better in the future."
His mock severe expression faded. "See you do, woman." He paused and then said, as if the words were forced out of him, "Jesus, but you had me scared." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. His lips were warm and firm, the hand cupping her face strong and steady, and with a rush of relief and gladness Kate remembered that she was alive and whole and all her parts in working order. Giving an inarticulate murmur of pleasure, she responded, and what might have happened then was anyone's guess, but Mutt, hearing their voices, jumped on the bed and poked her cold, wet nose between them, her yellow eyes wide and expectant, her tail wagging eagerly.
"Goddam, woman," Bobby roared, "can't you teach that goddam wolf some goddam etiquette!"
Someone beat on the door with a large, determined fist and it flew open, banging back against the wall. Kate shut her eyes, wincing. Jack Morgan, looking twice his already extra-large size in parka and bunny boots, stood in the doorway with a hard, anxious look on his face. His gaze found Kate and Bobby instantly.
He looked from Bobby, leaning on one elbow and obviously nude beneath the sheets, to Kate, next to him with the sheets clutched to her breast, also obviously nude. The anxious look faded. Through clenched teeth he enunciated clearly, "Mind telling me just what the hell is going on here?" The effect of icy rage was spoiled somewhat when Mutt bounced over with a joyous bark and reared up, a paw on each shoulder, to lavish his face with a wet and welcoming tongue.
Bobby sat up and waved a magnanimous hand. "Just stealing your woman, Jack old buddy." He tried a leer, but it wasn't up to his usual standard. "And if you'd waited fifteen minutes longer, I might have done it, too."
Through a mouthful of French toast, Bobby said thickly, "I called him last night after I got you cleaned up."
"I wish you hadn't," Kate muttered.
"Oh no, why should he?" Jack said, sitting very erect and plying his knife and fork with surgical precision. She and Bobby were seated at opposite ends of the table, and Jack was sitting between them, a position he had maintained since Kate had risen, in spite of Mutt's insistence on remaining immediately next to Kate at all times. Kate felt as if she were breathing for three. Bobby, spurred on by who knew what demon of mischief, took every opportunity to touch her, brushing her fingers as he poured her coffee, leaning one hand on her shoulder as he served her breakfast, in passing reaching over to adjust the collar of her newly laundered shirt, all the while with a face like St. Thomas Aquinas, minus the halo.
Jack watched through narrowed eyes but made no comment. Kate, feeling like a particularly tasty bone between two, no, make that three salivating dogs, might have enjoyed herself if she'd been fifteen years younger. At thirty-one, she felt irritated with both men and hoped to get through breakfast without any more blood, in particular hers, being shed than absolutely necessary.
Jack dissected another slice of French toast. "I told you to keep your investigation quiet, but noo-ooo, the first thing you do is tell all to the Blabber of the Bush. What, did he put it out on that pirate radio show of his: `Hey, everybody, somebody killed Lisa Getty, and it wasn't McAniff!' "
"Hey," Bobby said in a hurt voice, pretending wounded feelings he didn't have in hopes of getting another rise out of Jack. He knew perfectly well Jack was spoiling for a fight and would say whatever hurtful thing he could lay tongue to in the process. He also knew that Jack didn't mean a word of it, that he would apologize for it later, and that he would owe Bobby big-time for putting up with his fouled mood. Bobby smiled to himself and tucked into his breakfast with relish.
"You said you wanted me to handle this," Kate said.
"Yes, I did."
"On the evidence, not one of your better ideas," Bobby observed, and Jack damned him with a single glare. "Then let me handle it," Kate interjected before Jack could start in on Bobby.
"Oh right, you're handling it so well," he second day in you almost get yourself killed."
She shook her head and regretted it. "No, I didn't."
He paused, fork suspended in midair, to give her an incredulous stare. "Of course," he said, very polite. "How silly of me. You weren't shot yesterday. You weren't Unconscious for hours on Lisa Getty's boat. You didn't have to crawl on your hands and knees to your snow machine; you didn't fall down unconscious and damn near dead on Bobby's front porch; you don't have bandage on your head now. In fact, this is all a product of my overactive imagination and I'm going to wake up in Anchorage any minute. Feel free to mix in here anytime," he told Bobby.
"Why should I?" Bobby said, mopping up the last of his syrup. "You're doing fine."
"Look, Kate," Jack said, taking a deep breath and making an obvious grab for some shred of composure, "take it easy today, get your strength back up. Drink lot, eat a lot, that kind of thing. From what Bobby says, you've lost a lot of blood. I'll take the Jag into Niniltna and nose around, talk to a few people, maybe go up on the "No, you won't," Bobby said.
Jack stared at him. "Mind telling me why not?"
"I'm going into town this afternoon. Ekaterina's throwing a potlatch at the gym."
Kate, forgetting her injury, sat up straight. "A potlatch? What for?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "To say good-bye to those killed week before last, or so Billy Mike told me when he stopped by. Ekaterina wants everyone to turn out, so he says, and I am not one to spit in the eye of a royal command. So you," he said to Jack, "need to stay and look after Kate."
"Oh," Jack said, adding reluctantly, "okay. I'll stay." "No," Kate said.
"Why not?"
"For one thing, Nurses Clark and Morgan, I feel fine.
For another, I've got an errand to run in Niniltna myself this morning." . Forks clattered to plates. "What? Like hell! You-" "Woman!" Bobby's roar was back in full force.
"You're not going anywhere anytime soon! You just got shot in the goddam head! Not that there was that much there to hit in the first place, but it must've shaken loose what few brains you used to have! You ain't getting on no goddam snow machine and driving anywhere!"
She bit down on her last piece of bacon. It crunched satisfyingly between her teeth and almost melted on her tongue, and she closed her eyes reverently.
When she opened her eyes her two men were still yelling at her, with a steady increase in volume. Mutt had risen to her feet and was adding to the general hoopla with short, excited barks. Kate drained her mug, smiledingratiatingly at Bobby and pitched her voice to cut through the hubbub. "Could I have a refill?" Bobby dithered and spluttered and finally snapped, "If you're in good enough shape to get on a snow machine, you're in good enough shape to get your own goddam coffee!" He glared at her.
She rose carefully to her feet, pleased to find her legs working, and walked over the stove to refill her cup. Turning, she found both men watching her with varying degrees of frustration. She smiled, a dazzling smile that was two parts mischief to one part seduction and which she divided impartially between them. Bobby cursed and sailed his fork across the room. After a long, frustrated stare and what was obviously a severe inner struggle, Jack bent his head over his plate and continued eating.
She waited until they finished and, amid thunderous silence, cleared the table, washed the dishes and dried them. Reaching for her parka, she paused in the doorway. "Now," she said, sweetly malicious, "can I trust you two to behave while I'm gone?"
There was a flood of profanity and at least one solid object thudded against the door she hurriedly pulled closed behind her. "Maybe not," she told Mutt, "but boys will be boys."
Mutt gave a reproving growl and turned to stalk stiffly down the drive, disapproval evident in every line of her body. Bloody but unbowed, Kate followed.
She found Johnny Wu the only place he could be, at Auntie Viola's. Her aunt rented out her three spare bedrooms (shared bath, included breakfast) for the highway-robbery amount of $100 a night during those winter months when the Niniltna Lodge was closed. There was nowhere else in town to stay, and you either anted up with a smile or you slept out in the cold. Kate came in just as he was settling his bill, and from the satisfied expression on Aunt Viola's face he had paid in cash. Auntie Viola always preferred cash. She inquired if Mr. Wu cared for a receipt, and beamed to hear that he did not. The cash vanished into a convenient pocket, and she shook Wu's hand heartily and invited his speedy return to her establishment. Over his shoulder she caught sight of Kate in the entryway, stamping slush from her feet. "Kate!" she said with a wide grin. "I didn't know you were in town. This is Mr. Wu, from Outside."
"No, ma'am, I told you before, I'm from Hawaii. How do," he said to Kate, before his eyes widened in recognition. "Didn't I buy you a drink yesterday at the Roadhouse?"
"You sure did, and I thank you," Kate told him. She gave Auntie Viola, a short, plump woman with a shrewd twinkle in her brown eyes, a quick kiss. "Auntie, could I use your living room? I want to talk to Mr. Wu for a minute." "Sure, honey, no problem, take your time." Auntie Viola hurried past them to open the door into the living room and ushered them inside. She hesitated in the doorway, flicking at some imaginary dust on the buffet hutch, until Kate assisted her out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Her business with Wu did not take long and they were both very pleased. with each other at its conclusion. Kate even gave him a ride to the airstrip on the back of the Jag, turned him over to George Perry personally, helped load his bulging duffel bag into the now reassembled Cessna and waited until it was off the ground.
She gave a final wave as it disappeared into the west. When she lowered her eyes, her gaze became tangled and caught in the stand of trees at the far end of the strip. Their tops clustered together against the almost colorless sky, and their trunks hugged the ground, presenting a stiff, united front. Her good humor faded and her arm dropped to her side. On an impulse she walked forward. All the evidence there was was in the state crime lab in Palmer; she'd seen the inventories and the results of the tests in Jack's files. There was nothing left to look at in the copse that had seen so much blood spilled just ten days before.
She told herself all this, and kept walking.
It was another still day, a bare hint of a breeze stirring the air, the sun warm on her back. She entered the woods as she had before, carefully, silently, respectfully, Mutt leading the way. Much of the winter snowpack had melted beneath the onslaught of so many pairs of feet over the last days, leaving bare, hard ground still frozen beneath the melting slush.
Kate paused and cocked her head. Voices came from somewhere inside the copse. There was a distant, single pop that made her flinch. Low, smothered laughter followed. It was not a pleasant sound. Mutt's ears went up and, her pulse quickening, Kate pushed her way back between the branches. Kate caught the limb of a birch across her cheek, a spruce elbowed her in the side, a knot of alders tried to trip her up. She fought her way in, ducking and weaving, until she came to the heart of the copse. There she halted, out of breath.
A group of half a dozen women stood in a small circle; surprised faces turned to look at her. A short, plump brunette held a bottle of champagne, the cork out. The rest of the women held glasses filled to the brim with golden bubbling liquid. They gaped at her, until the brunette asked, a little unsteadily, "Come to join in the celebration, Kate?"