The first thing Jim did was check for a pulse. She‘s cold, he said.

Yeah. And rigor‘s fully established.

Jim tried to raise Lyda‘s arm.

See her face? Kate said.

Yeah. She was definitely having trouble breathing. He raised a corner of the blanket.

Diarrhea?

And vomiting. He let the blanket fall again. Are those hives?

Looks like it.

Anaphylaxis, you think?

She was allergic to peanuts, Kate said. Bag the napkin with the crumbs on it. Death by what, peanut butter cookie? Jim said. Christ. He bagged the napkin and the crumbs on it. He picked up the note that was sitting next to the napkin. I‘m sorry. I never should have helped. Tell Dewayne I said good-bye.‘ Jim looked up. Never should have helped‘ what?

I don‘t know yet.

Typed, he said.

Yes, she said. She held out a bag and he slipped the note inside.

Jim took notes and more photos. You take the desk, I‘ll take the closet. Kate stepped over Lyda Blue‘s sprawled leg and started opening drawers. There were three on the left side and a wider, shallow drawer in the desktop, the right side of which was fixed to the wall. The side drawers held toiletries, underwear, T-shirts, socks, sweaters.

Nothing unexpected or unusual. Kate pulled open the middle drawer. Pencils, pens, envelopes, stamps. A checkbook. Kate opened it. She had about twenty-five hundred in checking, and almost ten thousand in savings.

Is there a statement? Jim was patting down the clothes hanging in the closet. No.

He grunted. She might have had those sent to her home address. They‘ll have it at the office. Bag it and tag it.

Kate tried to close the middle drawer and it stuck halfway in. She tugged on it. Now it was completely stuck. She bent over to peer inside. There was a large, elongated object in the back that was catching on the bottom of the desktop. She reached inside to grab it while she jiggled the drawer.

When the drawer finally came all the way out, she was holding a leather holster in her hand. Hey, she said.

Jim was just closing up the closet, and looked over at her. Well, he said. Empty, she said.

I noticed. He raised his head. This morning, Old Sam and I found a .22 revolver in the clearing where you guys found the body.

What?

He nodded. ‘Fraid so.

Goddammit, she said. It‘s not that big a clearing, how could I have missed it? Also the skull I‘m going to assume belongs to that same body.

Shit, she said.

He waited.

I should have made another sweep after I shot that bear. She looked at him, anger warring with embarrassment on her face. I‘m sorry, Jim.

Facing down a charging grizzly takes pretty much all your attention, he said, and afterward it‘s all you can do to stand upright. Don‘t beat yourself up about it. Besides, I don‘t know that it would have made any difference. Guy wasn‘t shot, so far as we know.