“Hey, old man,” Berglund said, impervious. He gave the woman a long look, head to foot, and his mouth curled up on one side. “Domenica. Looking good, as always.”

She gave as good as she got, a sultry once-over that made Liam glad it had passed him by because he was afraid of what would have happened if it hadn’t. “Erik.” She turned to the older man. “Leave it, Hilary. Erik’s, quote, findings, end quote, will never hold up. No point wasting your energy in a quarrel that will never go anywhere. RPetCo needs you in fighting form for when we get to court.”

Liam was standing a little behind and to the right of the group and he could see everyone’s expression but Jeff’s pretty well. He saw Erik’s lethal grin flash out at both opponents impartially, and there was a broad chuckle in his voice when he replied. “Whatever makes you sleep better at night, Dom.” He winked. “I’m always, ah, up, for that.”

Dom, or Domenica, was not one to be outfaced or even the least little bit embarrassed. She smiled back at Berglund. Jesus. Liam hadn’t seen such a blatant come-on since watching J.Lo strip on screen. “I seldom repeat myself, Erik.”

Erik’s beam edged into a knowing smirk. “More than three or four times, anyway.”

Dom slid her arm through Hilary’s and urged him past Erik and Jeff. “About opening time, isn’t it, Jeff?” She caught sight of Liam and paused, infinitesimally, but it was long enough for Liam to feel an interest that was as searing as it was brief. He found himself blowing out a breath after she had passed by and looked up to find Berglund’s knowing gaze on him. “Careful there, dude. She will eat you alive.”

“I’m a married man,” Liam said.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

It took a moment for his vision to clear completely and when it did he saw the old fart with the walker was a step behind the old fart with the cane. He glanced at Liam in passing and slammed to a halt. “Trooper.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Recognized you from your photo. Blue Jay Jefferson. I’m kind of a fixture in these parts.”

“Sergeant Liam Campbell. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You were the cop who figured out the prop murder,” Jefferson said. “Tricky.” He held up his left hand. The middle finger had been broken between the first and second joints and healed crookedly. “Made that mistake once myself. Easy enough to do when you’re not paying attention.”

Liam wondered what Wy would say when he told her that.

“You’re out of uniform,” Jefferson said.

“It’s at the cleaners in Anchorage,” Liam said.

“Hey, Blue Jay.” Erik saluted Jefferson with the growler, hopped into a dusty Ford F-150 old enough to be carrying its own cane, and chugged out of the lot.

Blue Jay Jefferson stomped past with his walker to Backdraft, where the woman was holding the door open for him.

“Who the hell is that?” Liam said.