It didn‘t matter that she‘d liked Lyda. She would have reacted the same way to any wrongful death. Lancelot, that‘s who Kate reminded Jim of, and while she might not be able to swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail, she was sure as hell blessed with an iron will. God help anyone who got in her way in this mood. It wasn‘t going to be him, that was for sure, and besides, she was making enough sense for him to let her run out the string and see what was there. I suppose you‘ll be billing the state for the work.

She grinned. You suppose right.

You taking Mutt?

Kate glanced out the window, where Mutt lay beneath the wide branches of one of the few healthy spruce trees left in the Park. No.

She won‘t like that.

I‘ll be back before she knows I‘m gone. I‘m going to go see Brendan, too. He might be able to dig up something we can use, too.

Are you now. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a long, thorough kiss. Just marking my spot.

Fourteen

Calm and clear had followed the previous night‘s brisk blow, every pilot‘s dream weather conditions, and every passenger‘s dream ride. Kate sat up front, riding shotgun next to George, and admired the way he flew as if he and his craft were one being. She always felt safer in small planes, anyway, with pilots and mechanics she knew on a first-name basis. She adjusted the muffs over her ears and pursed her lips to make sure the mike would pick up her voice. A regularly scheduled airline. Who‘d a thunk it?

His grin was wry. The bank is who. I got loan payments to make every month now, Kate.

At five hundred dollars round trip Niniltna to Anchorage, running full most flights, chances were he‘d have no trouble making them. How long is the flight? Little over an hour.

She was impressed. It would have taken two hours in the Cessna. She‘s a beauty, she said, looking around at the spotless interior. There wasn‘t a speck of caribou blood or a tuft of beaver fur anywhere, no duct tape as yet holding up the interior fabric or holding on the exterior shell, all the buttons and levers on the instrument panel still buttons and levers instead of clips and grips scavenged out of the toolbox. The GPS mounted to George‘s right on the dash mimicked in electronic pixels the landscape moving beneath them. The sun was high and north, throwing the isolated peaks of Mounts Sand-ford and Drum into stark relief, and the sky was a goldwashed blue.

You should start giving out frequent-flier miles, she said.

She was shocked into near speechlessness when he replied, Way ahead of you. We‘re in talks with Alaska Airlines about a code-share agreement.

Her mouth opened and closed, and the most she could muster up was, Who‘s we? Bruce O‘Malley. He figures it‘d be a nice perk for the mine workers, plus something else he can offer prospective Alaskan employees. You know we like our mileage. She thought about this. You‘re going to need more pilots.