Tyne slipped two fingers below the collar of his poncho and massaged his chest.

“Someone shot her,” King said.

“Seems to be a lot of that going around.”

“You know anything about that, sir?”

“Annaliese was a nice little girl, despite her troubles.”

“That wasn’t my question.” King smiled benignly.

“No, ma’am, I don’t. But I do know the whole world’s going to hell.”

Time to change the subject.

“Are you acquainted with a man named Eric Skipper?” I asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“I find that odd, Mr. Tyne. Ms. King and I uncovered a police report stating that you and Skipper went at each other in a parking lot back in 2008.”

Tyne’s fingers froze. His lips moved as though trying out the name. “You talking about that prick who came to Yellowknife preaching e-cology?” Hitting hard on the long e.

“I am.”

“That gasbag had a ton of education and not one ounce of common sense. His agenda? Write an article, get a name, score a university position. All off the back of a species that’s about to go down.”

“You disagreed philosophically?”

“Damn right we did.”

“Wasn’t Skipper’s goal the same as yours? Saving the caribou?”

“The moron thought we should fight this new mine the government’s shoving down our throats. That’s like trying to stop a train with your bare hands. I told him the only thing’s going to help the caribou is a safe place to go.”

“The guy made you mad?”

“Good thing he left town.”

Chapter 35

EN ROUTE BACK TO YELLOWKNIFE, KING GOT A CALL. THE SPRING melt had coughed up a lady in a lake.

“Need help?” I offered, truly not enthused.

“Nah. She and her boyfriend plunged their Ski-doo through a soft spot right before last fall’s hard freeze. Up here, floaters overwinter well. The family will be able to order an open casket.”

I also got a ring.

“Bergeron confirmed the Skipper ID,” I said after disconnecting.

“Forward progress.”

“What’s your take on Tyne?”

“Sounds like he’s got a temper. But the old duck’s probably harmless.”

“You don’t see him as good for Skipper and Beck?”

“Because the two traded blows over ungulates?” She pooched air through her lips. “No.”

“What do you think of Tyne fostering a mentally impaired seventeen-year-old girl?”

“You have to understand. Kinship is viewed differently up here.”

Maybe.

I looked at my watch. One-fifteen. On cue, my stomach growled.

“Hungry?”

“Mm.”

“There’s probably a granola bar in the console.”

“I’m good.” I was starving. Regretted giving the muffin to Binny.

I settled into the seat and watched the same panoply of pines, tamaracks, poplars, and birches I’d watched when making this run with Ryan. I felt troubled, restless. Like something was hiding around a corner in my mind.