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Contents ( 45)
  1. Map
  2. Contents
  3. One
  4. Thirty years ago, July
  5. Two
  6. Monday, September 2, Labor Day
  7. Three
  8. Monday, September 2, Labor Day
  9. Four
  10. Monday, September 2, Labor Day
  11. Five
  12. Monday, September 2, Labor Day
  13. Six
  14. Tuesday, September 3
  15. Seven
  16. Tuesday, September 3
  17. Eight
  18. Tuesday, September 3
  19. Nine
  20. Tuesday, September 3
  21. Ten
  22. Tuesday, September 3
  23. Eleven
  24. Wednesday, September 4
  25. Twelve
  26. Wednesday, September 4
  27. Thirteen
  28. Wednesday, September 4
  29. Fourteen
  30. Wednesday, September 4
  31. Fifteen
  32. Thursday, September 5
  33. Sixteen
  34. Thursday, September 5
  35. Seventeen
  36. Thursday, September 5
  37. Eighteen
  38. Friday, September 6
  39. Nineteen
  40. Friday, September 6
  41. Twenty
  42. Monday, September 9
  43. Twenty-One
  44. Sunday, September 15
  45. Acknowledgments

“Sure. Where are they?”

“In my truck.” He looked at Jo, who wasn’t even pretending not to listen. “Jo will bring them to you.”

“Now just a damn minute—”

“Of course,” Wy said.

“Thanks, babe. Usual rates. I’ll clear it through the office.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with the state, Sergeant Campbell.” She paused, and then said delicately, “Someone you know?”

“Unfortunately. One of two possible friends I’ve met since I got here. The archeologist.”

“Oh.” A sigh. “He sounded like a good guy. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Later, babe.”

“Tell Jo I’ll meet her at the airport, and give her the gate code.”

“Wilco.” He clicked off and looked up to see Jo giving him a baleful stare. “You’re all I’ve got, Jo. Please.”

“And it gets me out of your crime scene.”

He didn’t deny it. “There is that.”

She grumbled but she went. He spent the next twenty minutes photographing, measuring, and making notes of the scene with apps on his phone, hoping that Steve Jobs wasn’t going to let him down. When the Blewestown volunteer fire department showed up they galloped down the trail like sherpas. It looked like the entire department had responded, a cross section of locals ranging in age from twenty to sixty, including a muscular, no-nonsense woman who introduced herself as Fire Chief Fiona Rafferty. “Campbell,” she said. “Liam Campbell?”

“Yes.”

“The shootout in the Newenham airport.”

He repressed a sigh. “Yes.”

“Not anyone’s finest hour.”

“No.”

“But not your fault, either.”

He almost smiled. “Thanks.”

Rafferty and her men went to work. They knew what they were doing and had Berglund’s body on a stretcher up the hill very nearly at double time. “Mountain goat DNA” was evidently one of the job requirements.

Liam pulled the chief to one side. “I need some help, Chief.”

“Name it, Sergeant.”

A refreshing relief from Chief Armstrong’s determined indifference, and Liam was relieved. “A couple of kids were in this cave yesterday.”

“They found the body?”

“No. Well, not this one.”

Chief Rafferty had thick, expressive eyebrows and at this point they raised the brim of her ball cap by a quarter of an inch. “‘This one?’”

“They were exploring and they found what they said was a crack that led to a cave behind this one. Evidently it is wide enough for one of them to get stuck in it and while he was stuck he found a skeleton. When they unstuck him he managed to grab the bones of one of the skeleton’s hands.”

Her eyebrows lowered to a level denoting extreme skepticism. “Sergeant Campbell—”

“I know, Chief. I’ve got the bones he recovered on the way to Anchorage to see if they are actually human bones. But could you take a look at the crack and see if there is some way to reach the rest of the skeleton?”

“If it’s that narrow how the hell would anyone get through it to die on the other side in the first place?” But she followed him, grumbling, and then retreated immediately to radio up the hill for one of her remaining cohort to bring down a couple of battery-powered standing lamps. “Need ’em for night fights sometimes,” she said at his glance.