Lyda‘s eyes widened. In the harsh light of the single bulb her face looked leached of all color.

In the daypack was an envelope filled with pay stubs, a checkbook with an account at the Last Frontier Bank in Ahtna showing fourteen grand to the good, and a book. Kate read the title out loud. ThePortable Nietzsche? She put the book down. At least he read. She looked up.

A tear had traced its way down Lyda Blue‘s cheek. He does read, she said. You don‘t know for sure yet whose body that was.

No, Kate said, her voice as gentle as the scar on her throat would allow. I don‘t. How well did you know him, Lyda?

How did you know?

You called him Wayne, Kate said.

Lyda reached up to touch her cheek and seemed surprised to find the tear. She wiped it away, not bothering much about her mascara. I—we met when he was first hired. He drove up from Washington State with some of the other guys looking for work. He told me they‘d heard the news about Global Harvest hiring and decided to share expenses on the trip north.

Who came with him?

Lyda shrugged. I remember one of them quit before Wayne did. I don‘t remember his name. I can probably look it up for you. She bit her lip. If the body was Dewayne Gammons, he hadn‘t quit. Lyda raised her chin and made an obvious effort to keep her voice steady. Everybody‘s hired through the office in Anchorage and they go through their orientation there, but I process all the paperwork, get them set up with their payroll taxes and stuff, give them their room assignments, so I‘m usually the first person at the mine all the employees meet. And then, you know, we all eat together in the mess hall, and play pool or foosball together in one of the lounges. We‘re just starting up here, so it‘s only week on, week off, and we‘re still in the early stages of exploration so the crew is still small. People tend to make friends fast.

So you and Wayne made friends.

Lyda nodded, sniffled, and pulled a Kleenex from her pocket. She hunted in vain for a clean spot and settled for one grubby corner that nearly disintegrated under the onslaught. He saw that I was Native, and he was curious. She looked at Kate. You know. In a nice way.

I know, Kate said. Were you more than friends?

Lyda shook her head. No. We hadn‘t even met off the site.

The yet was unspoken but implied.

Kate hesitated. What was his attitude before he disappeared? Was he happy? Sad? Frightened? Excited?

Lyda looked around for a trash can, didn‘t find one, and pocketed the very used Kleenex instead. He told me he suffered from depression.

Did he say he‘d been diagnosed? Did he mention a doctor?

He didn‘t believe in doctors, Lyda said. And he would never have checked himself into a hospital. He said that‘s where people go to die, and that when he died he wanted to be outside, in the fresh air.