As they approached the front door, it opened. Indubitably Alaska Native, Liam thought, medium/heavy with muscle, not fat, black/brown, early forties, no facial hair, no visible scars. Heavy brows that nearly met over his eyes in a permanent scowl. “Alexei Petroff?”

“You the trooper?”

“Yes. Liam Campbell. This is my wife and pilot, Wyanet Chouinard.”

“I suppose this is about Erik.” Petroff didn’t wait for his answer, but stepped back, opening the door wide.

They went up the steps and inside. The door opened into a small entryway lined with boots and coats. They toed off their shoes, and Petroff led them into the living room, a corner room with windows on both sides. It was lined with Sheetrock painted white, making it a lot lighter than most cabins he had been in, and, he’d bet, a lot warmer in the winter. Just in case it wasn’t, a rock fireplace with a metal insert and a fan had been built into a corner, and the furniture looked prebuilt and comfortable. “We’d like to speak to your wife, too, if she’s home,” Liam said.

There was movement in the doorway and they stepped back to get out of the way of a woman carrying a tray holding mugs and a carafe. “I thought you might like some coffee,” she said. Also Alaska Native, medium/slight, black/brown, mid to late thirties. Her hair was pulled up and back with a clip and like all of them she wore a plaid shirt and jeans and socks on her feet. There were tiny gold hoops in her ears and a wedding ring on her left hand, no watch, but then who did wear watches anymore. She set the tray down on the coffee table and stood up, wiping her hands down her jeans, and looked at her husband.

“Please, sit,” Petroff said, gesturing, and everyone sat down, Kimberley taking a chair opposite the couch instead of on it next to her husband. She sat on the very edge of the seat, her back straight with her hands clasped, until Petroff said, “You brought out the coffee, Kimberley, you might as well pour it.”

“Oh.” She poured out and handed mugs around with hands that might have been shaking a little.

“Is Sally Petroff any relation?” Liam said, hoping to ease the tension.

“Our daughter,” Alexei said.

“She’s my admin assistant at the post. A very capable young woman.”

“Yes.”

Okay. “So you’ve heard about Erik Berglund.”

“I imagine everyone has by now,” Alexei said. “No secrets on the Bay.”

Kimberley turned her head to look out the window.

“It was not an accidental death,” Liam said. “It appears that the people at Gabe McGuire’s party were the last to see him alive. I’m talking to everyone who attended to try to get a sense of how he spent his last hours.”

Kimberley stood up. “I forgot the cream and sugar. I’ll be right back.”

Wy stood up and put her mug on the table. “May I help?” She followed Kimberley without waiting for an answer.