"Gary?" Wy said. "I need another spotter." None of them looked at what was left of her last one, which might not have been the best incentive for accepting her offer of employment. "Can you take a day? I pay the standard percentage."

"I told you, Wy," Liam said, "you can't take this plane up. Not right now. It may be a crime scene."

"I've got another plane," she informed him, and couldn't hide her pleasure at his surprise. "It's a 180, so it won't be as good for spotting as the Cub is, but it'll do." She saw his expression and said, urgency back, "I've got to get in the air, Liam. The whole fleet's out now, waiting on an announcement from Fish and Game to put their nets in the water. The herring season only lasts until they catch the quota, and I'm spotting for the high boat in the bay. And Cecil Wolfe didn't get to be high boat with his spotter on the ground," she added with feeling.

"No shit," Gruber said with equal feeling.

"All right," Liam said. "You can fly, but first let's take another look at that p-lead." He would have waited for the forensics team to show up and dust everything for prints, but since this wasn't NYPD Blue there would probably be an awfully long wait.

The two of them crowded into the open door of the Cub. "Can you unhook it or unscrew it or something?" Liam said.

"You aren't afraid I'm going to destroy evidence that might convict me of murder?" Wy said sarcastically.

Liam gave her a steady, unsmiling look. "All right," she muttered, and reached beneath the dash. A moment's fumbling, and two pieces of thin plastic-coated wire were resting in the palm of Liam's hand.

"It's been cut," Wy said, staring.

It was true. Normal wear and tear would not have produced the neatly severed ends of the little wire.

"Somebody must have reached up under the control panel and pulled down the lead and nipped it with a pair of wire cutters, and then shoved it back up again," Wy said. The tightness was back in her voice.

Liam allowed his free hand to give her shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, for a brief, halcyon moment, he felt her relax into his touch. In the next second, she had tensed and pulled away.

He would have gone after her this time, even with Gruber watching, even if the crowd had still been there, even if somebody had been selling tickets, but a construction orange Chevy Suburban V-8 Turbo Diesel roared up to skid to a halt five feet from the Cub. The door opened and the grizzled old frowner from the Anchorage flight yelled, "You the new trooper?"

"Bad news travels fast," Wy muttered.

Liam shot her an unfriendly look and said to the man, "Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Some drunk's shooting up Bill's," the man said. "Get in."