“I found him standing over the body,” Jim countered. “He might have seen something, heard something. I have to talk to him.”
“You already have.”
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah.”
Her gaze sharpened. “What?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “A feeling, like maybe he’s not telling me everything.”
“Crap. Dan O’Brian’s not a guy to withhold knowledge of a crime.”
“Maybe,” he said in a level voice. “Maybe not.” He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “I told you I could have dropped you at Bobby’s on the way.”
Like she would have let him interrogate Dan O’Brian without her being in the room. She stamped up the stairs without deigning to reply and then slammed into the building, nearly catching his nose in the door.
Well, at least she wasn’t indifferent to his presence. He followed her down the hall, long legs eating up the distance between them.
Dan was still in his office, head down in a stack of paperwork. He looked up when they came in. “Great,” he said, tossing down his pen. “Cheese it, it’s the fuzz.” Mutt trotted around the desk and bounced up for her usual exchange of sugar. “Except you, babe. You I’m happy to see anytime.” He directed an unfriendly gaze at Jim. “What?”
Kate took up a strategic position perched on the corner of Dan’s desk. Jim sat opposite and cocked one heel on the other corner, a relaxed pose that deceived no one. “Tell me again. Everything you saw, everything you heard, every detail-I don’t care how insignificant you think it is.”
“Jesus.” Dan pushed away from the desk and leaned back, rubbing his face hard with both hands. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Tell me again,” Jim repeated.
Dan sighed sharply and dropped his hands to the desk in front of him. In a flat, dry voice, he repeated his story as if by rote. Due to Washington politics, his job was in jeopardy. He had consulted with friends (he didn’t look at Kate) and had decided to fight for it, which meant asking Park rats with influence to intercede on his behalf. Dina Willner and Ruthe Bauman were wired into the conservation movement, his relationship with them was good, and so they were naturals to ask for help. He drove to their cabin. He found them-he swallowed. “I found them like that,” he said. “Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I thought maybe this was who did it coming back.” He rubbed his head, which still sported a knot on it, although reduced in size. “After that, it was like the Keystone Kops or something. I yanked the door open the same time somebody shoved it open from the outside, and bam! The next thing I know, I’m on the floor next to Dina, looking up at you coming through the door. I thought it was you who smacked me.”
“It was Dandy, bringing the mail.”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, he told me.”
“What time was this?”
“Midafternoon. Say three, maybe? Three-thirty?”
“Did you see anything?”
“Other than stars? No.”
“Hear anything?”
Dan sighed. “I wish. I didn’t hear a damn thing.”
Kate, watching, was alarmed to see that Jim’s instincts had not deceived him. There was something that Dan wasn’t saying. “Dan,” she said.
“Goddamn it, Kate,” he said, his voice rising. “Dina and Ruthe were and are friends of mine. Do you think if I knew something I wouldn’t tell you? That I wouldn’t want to help you find who did this horrible thing and kick the shit out of them myself?”
“No,” Kate said, her voice by contrast calm, even soothing. “I don’t think that.”
And yet, as they walked down the path of hard-packed snow to where the snow machine sat waiting, she couldn’t help thinking that Dan O’Brian had sounded as defensive as he had angry. He had wanted them out of his office, had seemed almost desperate to see them go. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry. As if he had allowed them to stay, he might have said more than he wanted to.
Hearing Jim take a breath, she said, “Don’t. Don’t even go there.”
She’d seen what he had, and that was all he’d been looking for. He exhaled without speaking. In grim silence, they mounted up, this time with Mutt, in response to a barked order, hopping between them.
Jim shifted on the couch in Bobby’s living room, restless. It didn’t help that he could hear the soft sound of Kate’s regular breathing, and that his overactive imagination could put that sound much closer to him without any effort at all.
The fire crackled on the hearth. A log shifted and sparks flew upward, casting a faint glow over the dark head buried in the pillow on the other couch. It was a wide couch. Plenty of room. She probably wouldn’t even wake up if he slid in next to her. She probably wouldn’t even stir. Maybe she’d just roll over and he could curl into her spoon-fashion. He could slide his hands around her waist and pull her in tight. He thought of that ass against his crotch and had to shift again to make room for his erection. It didn’t even bother him anymore; it was like the damn thing was on automatic around her.
He tried like hell not to think about it. Think about Riley Higgins instead, he told himself, and for a few moments he actually did. Bobby was right: The guy was a poor fucker, but that didn’t in and of itself make Higgins not a murderer. Crazy people did crazy things. Higgins, by empirical evidence newly observed, was manifestly crazier than a bedbug. He could have taken out both Dina and Ruthe in one of his rages.
Kate stirred. He watched with hungry eyes as her body slid inside the sleeping bag. If he were lying beside her, he could slide his hands over her breasts. He tried to remember what they looked like, but everything had happened so fast that afternoon, he wasn’t sure he’d even seen them. If he moved slowly enough, if he was smooth enough, maybe he’d get a look, before she ripped his balls off and Mutt ripped his throat out and Bobby shot him dead.
He rolled over and punched his pillow into a new shape. What about Dan O’Brian? What was going on there? He had worked cases with Dan O’Brian, he’d hoisted more than a few beers in his company, and he knew the man. Or thought he did. The last thing he wanted was to bring Dan O’Brian in and sweat him, but he was going to have to if Dan didn’t open up. He didn’t even want to think about the repercussions that would follow, both for Dan and for himself. He could just imagine what Billy Mike would have to say. And, oh god, Auntie Vi.
He didn’t really think Mutt would rip his throat out. He wasn’t 100 percent certain about Bobby. He was pretty sure Kate would rip his balls off, though.
Or not. She certainly had responded to him that afternoon at the cabin. No matter what she had said or done afterward, no matter how much she was avoiding the issue, no matter that she was twisting herself into a pretzel to deny the interlude, she had been with him all the way. He wondered how long it would take to get her back to that place.
On the plane back to Niniltna, he’d said, “So we’re not going to talk about it?” Silence had been her answer. Okay, fine. He probably would want conversation somewhere down the line, but just at the moment, all he wanted was a month in bed, just the two of them, and the rest of the world held at bay with a big red keep out sign. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.
He wondered if, in the course of a normal sexual relationship, she was a talker or the quiet, intense type. The first time, she had called him Jack. The second time, she hadn’t said anything at all. Of course, he had not been spectacularly articulate himself.
He wondered what her favorite position was. He’d had some imaginative partners in his life. But face it, Chopin, he told himself. If acquiring Kate Shugak as a partner means the missionary position for the foreseeable future, you’ll take it and love it.