“Never mind that now. Back the truck around!”
He checked Dina’s body just to be sure. No pulse, no breath sounds. She was dead, a graceless heap of brittle bone and sagging flesh, her thinning white hair disarranged from its usual neat roll. Her jaw was slack, her mouth a little open. He pulled out his radio, but of course he was out of range. He cursed Dandy for not checking for signs of life more thoroughly, for losing so much precious time in getting Ruthe to help. He cursed himself, too, steadily and out loud, for not bringing the Bell Jet Ranger on this trip.
“Jim?”
“Shut up, Dan.”
“Jim, I don’t have to say I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
Jim agonized over whether to move Ruthe, who was on her side, unconscious, colorless, and clammy and who was bleeding from several wounds, including a continuous horrific gash across her breasts.
“Jim?”
“Shut up, Dan. Now.” There was no blood coming from her mouth or her nose, so he took the chance and rolled her onto her back to bind her wounds as best he could with dish towels from the kitchen.
“The truck’s backed around,” Dandy said from the door. He looked like he was going to puke.
“Not in here,” Jim said, pointing outside, and Dandy went gladly.
“You’ll need something to carry her out on.” Dan’s voice was steadier, and when Jim looked at him, he seemed back on balance. “Kitchen table?”
It was on its side and one of the legs was broken off. Dan broke off the other three and he and Jim carefully maneuvered a cocooned Ruthe to the top of it. It was a small table, thankfully, but all the same, Jim skinned a knuckle getting it through the door. The stairs were a blasphemous negotiation, but they got the table and Ruthe into the back of the Explorer by putting the backseat down. Jim packed in everything he could find, pillows, bolsters, the cushions from the chairs and couch, anything to keep Ruthe from rolling with the motion of the vehicle. He piled the blankets high and checked her pulse again. Still fast and thready. Her skin hadn’t warmed; and she still felt clammy.
“Drive her to Niniltna,” Jim said, “and get her on the first plane out of here.”
“What?” Dandy said, startled. “You’re not taking her in?”
“This didn’t happen that long ago, Dandy. I might be able to catch whoever did this.”
Dandy looked at the ranger. “Yeah, but Jim-”
Dan looked immensely relieved. Jim didn’t have the time, or rather, Ruthe didn’t, but he had to ask. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to ask Dina and Ruthe for help keeping my job,” Dan said, nodding at the second snow machine pulled to one side of the yard. “I found them like you saw them. And before you ask, no, I didn’t see anyone or hear anything.”
“Where’d you get the bruises?”
The ranger looked at Dandy. “I was headed for the door to go for help when this guy barged in.” He touched his forehead and winced. “The door caught me in the head and knocked me down. I guess I was out for a while, because next thing I know, you’re here.”
Jim looked at him. Dan met his eyes without evasion. “What else?”
“Nothing.” Dan looked startled. “There isn’t anything else.”
Time to fish or cut bait. Jim had known Dan O’Brian for fifteen years, and barring the importation of a bottle of blackberry brandy into a dry village for the purposes of stewing up a mess of mallards, the ranger had a crime-free record. He had wanted Dina and Ruthe’s help, which eliminated a motive for murder, at least on the face of it. There was no time to waste. Jim made up his mind. “Dan, you ride in the back. Keep her as still as you can.”
“What?” Dandy said.
“If she shows blood from the nose or mouth, roll her to one side, but only if she shows the blood.”
“Jim-” Dandy said.
Jim turned to Dandy and said, “When you get to the strip, commandeer the first plane out. Get her to Ahtna as fast as you can.”
“George was there an-” Dandy looked at his watch “Jesus, was it only fifty minutes ago? He just brought the mail in from Ahtna. That’s why I was here-I was bringing them their mail, like I do.” Dandy looked down at Ruthe. He might have been about to cry. “It’s usually good for a piece of Ruthe’s pie.”
“Was he turning it around?” At Dandy’s blank look, Jim reined in his impatience. “George. Was he turning the plane around for a return trip?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter. Like I said, commandeer the first plane you see and get Ruthe to the hospital in Ahtna. If there isn’t a plane there, call the post in Tok. The dispatcher’ll know what to do. I’m trying to remember who’s on the Niniltna ERT team.”
“Uh, the Grosdidier brothers, they live closest to the airstrip.”
“Good. Make someone go get ‘em if you have to wait for a plane. Don’t let her get cold.” Jim went to the driver’s seat. Billy’s new car had come loaded; he turned on the rear heaters full blast. “Get going.”
Dandy’s panicked expression hardened. “Okay, Jim.” He all but saluted and piled in.
“Give her as smooth a ride as possible,” Jim said to Dan, closing the door behind him. “I don’t know how long those bandages are going to last, and you don’t want to jolt them off and have her start bleeding again.”
“Okay, Jim,” Dan said. He, too, had benefited from the snapped orders. The Explorer’s engine turned over and the vehicle inched forward down the track and disappeared almost immediately into the trees.
Jim climbed the stairs to the cabin. It was cold inside, and he pushed the door closed, not without some difficulty, because of the rubble in the way. Everything that had been on a shelf anywhere in the cabin was off it, books, mugs, dishes, pots and pans, cans of food, sacks of flour and sugar and rice, flatware, decks of cards, the top hat token from a Monopoly game, a cribbage board. He took photographs from the door and then picked his way across the debris and took more pictures of Dina’s body.
This was the worst part of living where you worked, especially when you worked in law enforcement. Acts of violence were almost always committed against someone you knew, and what was sometimes worse, by someone you knew. He closed his eyes briefly. What if he was wrong? What if Dan O’Brian, contrary to every instinct Jim had, innate or developed on the job, had assaulted the two women? He’d been a practicing police officer for long enough to realize that anyone can kill, given the right motivation.
Dina had been a crusty old broad with a salty tongue, a ribald sense of humor, and a fount of stories that reflected no good on anyone elected or appointed to public office since Alaska had become a state. Jim had spent more than a few hours sitting at a Roadhouse table with Dina Willner, listening to those tales, tales that went all the way back to the first days of Camp Teddy, and even further back to her days as a WASP in World War II, first in Texas and then in Florida. She had forgotten more about flying than he would ever learn, and she was willing to share. He had liked her. He had liked her a lot, and now someone had killed her. It made him angry, the way murder always made him angry. There, he thought, there was motivation for you.
He righted the couch and placed Dina’s body on it. Her limbs were loose-rigor had not set in-which meant that the killer was not long gone. He thought of Dan, jolting down the hill in the back of the Explorer. He found in a heap behind the couch a homemade quilt that looked like something the four aunties would make. He spread it over her, then stood silently before her for a few moments.
A draft of cold air made him shiver, and he looked around, noticing for the first time that the back door was open, too. He unbuckled the flap of his holster and stepped to it. Unlike the front door, this one was solid wood, no window, no line of sight. He pushed it open cautiously with his left hand, his weapon drawn and held next to his thigh. The bottom of the door scraped over packed-down snow. There was no movement beyond it. He stepped out on the porch.