"How long have you lived with Wy-with your mother?"
The boy shrugged. "I dunno. Two years, I guess."
"Where did you live before that?"
"Ualik," the boy said.
"Ualik," Liam echoed. "Where's that?"
The boy nodded vaguely. "Up the river a ways."
As soon as he could, Liam was going to have to settle down to a map of his new posting and locate all the towns and villages that came under his jurisdiction. "Who did you live with in Ualik?"
There was a short silence. The boy's face paled, and he seemed to shrink in his chair. His words barely audible, he said, "With my mom."
Liam's brows knit. "With Wy?"
The boy shook his head. "No. With my real mom."
Liam was going to ask more questions, but something about the hard line of unhappiness around the boy's mouth stayed his words. "Okay, Tim, look," he began.
The door burst open and Wyanet Chouinard came through it like a whirlwind. "Where's my kid, Liam, you son of a bitch! Where is he?"
"He's right here," Liam said mildly, at about the same time Wy spotted Tim.
Wy took one step forward and yanked the boy to his feet. "Are you all right? That damn Gunderson is telling everybody he had you arrested and put in jail! What the hell is going on?"
Tim kept his face down and didn't answer. Wy's fierce gaze transferred to Liam. "Well?"
Liam met her eyes calmly. "Mr. Gunderson down at the NC Market says he caught Tim here shoplifting. Says it's a habitual thing. Says Tim steals for his gang."
"Gang?" Wy said incredulously. "Tim doesn't belong to any gang! There aren't any gangs in Newenham, for crissake!" The other shoe dropped. "Stealing?" she said. She looked at Tim. "You were caught stealing from the store? Tim! Is it true?"
A dark red flush crept up the boy's cheek.
"Oh, Tim," Wy said, her voice breaking. "After all we've been through, after- Tim, you know what's at stake here." She caught his chin in one hand and forced him to meet her eyes. "You know better than I do," she said. "You can't put it at risk like this." Her voice almost a wail, she repeated, "You can't."
Tim blinked rapidly. In a very small, very gruff voice he said, "I'm sorry, Wy."
Wy closed her eyes and let her head touch his, lightly, briefly.
Liam waited, watching. The intensity of the connection between woman and boy was palpable. It was obvious that both of them considered Tim to be a permanent part of Wy Chouinard's life. In which case, he was now a permanent part of Liam Campbell's life as well. Liam wondered if Gunderson would accept restitution in return for dropping charges.
She let the boy go, took a deep breath, and sat down. "What did he steal?"
"A couple of packs of Camels," Liam said. "This time."
"Cigarettes?" Wy's voice went up a notch, and she turned to look at Tim. "You're smoking, too?" Tim hunched an impatient shoulder.
"Mr. Gunderson seems to think hanging, drawing, and quartering would be too good for him," Liam said.
"Oh hell, that Dewayne is a-" Wy remembered who else was listening and bit back the words. "He made you arrest Tim, is that it?"
Liam said wryly, "Wy, Alaska state troopers don't spend a lot of time apprehending people for shoplifting. Mr. Gunderson caught Tim stealing and was in the act of hauling him down to the local police station when I drove by in the trooper vehicle. He waved me down." He paused. "Mr. Gunderson says it isn't the first time Tim has stolen from his store."
Wy looked to Tim for confirmation. Tim stared steadily at his feet, dark color creeping up his neck.
"Mr. Gunderson seems to think that there is a gang of boys that gets Tim to steal for them, essentials like cigarettes and candy and batteries."
"Tim?" Wy said.
Tim raised his face, pale again but determined. "I won't rat them out. That's like the lowest. I won't."
"Besides," Liam added helpfully, "they'd beat the shit out of you if you did."
The boy flashed him a startled look.
"Is this Joey and Jerry Atooksuk?" Wy said. "Tim, I've told you to stay away from them."
"They force you in, Tim?" Liam said, man to man.
Tim's head snapped up. So did Wy's. "What do you mean, force?" she said, bristling. "Tim, did they hurt you? Did those boys threaten you or-"
"Wy," Liam said.
She stopped, looking at him. "Mr. Gunderson got his property back, undamaged. He's mad now, and he wants to throw the book at your boy, but if we give him a while to cool off I think he'll come around. He's probably not going to want to see Tim in his store for a while. If ever," Liam added, watching the boy, and was rewarded when a brief flash of intense relief flooded the young face. "Let me talk to him. In the meantime, take Tim back to school. Or no, it's Saturday, isn't it. Home, then."
"Fine," Wy said promptly, and the grip she fastened on the boy's arm had more the look of military police than maternal concern about it. But then Wy hadn't been a mother long, Liam reflected as the door closed behind them.
It swung open again almost immediately. "Liam? Thanks. Thanks a lot. You don't know what this means; you don't know what-"
"I'm going to know, though, aren't I, Wy?" Liam said.
He threw the question down between them like a gauntlet, and left it lying there for her to pick up or not, as she chose.
Five minutes later the door opened and Gary Gruber stuck his head in. "Trooper Campbell?" He sidled inside and stood hesitantly in the still-open doorway, jaw champing at a bubble gum cud.
"Mr. Gruber, come on in." Liam waved the thin man to a chair. "Thanks for coming down."
Gary Gruber perched himself gingerly at the very edge of his seat. "You said you wanted a statement."
"Yeah, wait a minute while I get the computer fired up. Took me ten minutes to find the On button this morning. Computers. Sheesh." He grinned at Gruber. "I'm getting acclimatized to the twentieth century just in time for the twenty-first."
Gruber returned a weak smile and shifted the omnipresent pink wad from one cheek to the other. Could have been worse, Liam thought, could have been chewing tobacco. "I don't know what I can add to what I told you yesterday. It's like I said, I didn't really see much of anything."
"Tell me what you did see, then," Liam said as the screen filled with the proper form.
He'd been in his office, Gruber told him, when he heard a scream from the lobby in the front of the building. He'd rushed to see what was going on, and there was Bob DeCreft, stretched out in front of 78 Zulu.
"Not a pretty sight," Liam said sympathetically.
A slight shudder passed over Gary Gruber's thin frame, and he swallowed spasmodically. "No," he agreed, shifting his gum again.
"In fact, not much to tell you it was Bob DeCreft," Liam observed. "Tell me, how did you know it was him?"
Gruber stopped in mid-chew. "What?"
"Well, I was there, too, and there wasn't much left of his face. How did you know that the man lying on the ground in front of that Cub was Bob DeCreft?"
Gruber floundered for a moment. "Well, I-well, I just assumed it was him."
"Why?" Liam asked in an interested voice.
"Well, I-well, I-" Gruber had a flash of inspiration. "Everybody knew he was spotting for Wy. Who else could it have been? Nobody's gonna go messing around with somebody else's plane, not without their permission. Good way to get shot, out here," he added, gaining confidence. "Had to be Bob, since it wasn't Wy."
"And since it was 78 Zulu," Liam prompted.
"Well, yeah."