“I’m thirsty,” Engebretsen said. “Come on, gimme something to drink.”
“In a minute,” Prince said, the crease in her blue uniform sleeve as crisp as it had been when she walked in, her tie as impeccably knotted. Her black curls formed a tight cap against her skull, her blue eyes were hard and merciless, her mouth held in a stern, uncompromising line. She looked like a cop from the bone out, and she sounded like one, too. “Let’s go over it one more time. You say-”
“Shit, man,” Kvichak said, exploding onto his feet. His chair slammed against the wall and turned over. Engebretsen jumped and looked as if he were about to burst into tears.
Prince rose to face him, eye to eye. Liam didn’t move, didn’t turn from the window. “We’ve told you the goddamn story about six different times this morning, how many times you want us to tell it?”
“Until you get it right.”
“Shit! You want us to say we killed that man! Well, we didn’t, and nothing you can say or do is going to make us say we did! I want a lawyer!” He leaned across the table and shouted directly at Liam. “I want a goddamn lawyer!”
Liam didn’t turn his head. Prince stared without changing expression. “Sit down.” The two words were uttered in a soft, unthreatening voice, but they were a command. Kvichak picked up his chair, slammed it down on the floor and sat down hard. It must have hurt his tailbone, but it didn’t affect his glare.
Prince sat opposite him and looked down at her notepad. “Now. You were hunting, you say.”
Engebretsen, so verbal during the arrest and at the beginning of the interview, had withdrawn into silence and the occasional whimper. Kvichak was a one-man monument to fury; he spat out sentences as if they were being fed into the breech of an automatic rifle. “Yeah. We were hunting. We were hunting up on Nuk Bluff, like we do every September of our lives, like we have every single year since we could hold a rifle by ourselves. We were up there for ten days, we limited out in caribou, moose, geese, spruce hens and ptarmigan. We gutted and skinned and packed everything back to camp, so we didn’t violate no wanton waste law. We didn’t shoot the day Chouinard flew us in, so we didn’t violate the fly-and-shoot-same-day rule.” Again, he spoke directly to Liam. “We didn’t see nobody and we didn’t hear nobody, and we sure as hell didn’t kill nobody.”
Liam didn’t stir.
“You can’t always say you haven’t seen anybody, can you, John?”
Engebretsen gave a low moan.
“Sometimes we do,” John said truculently. “What of it?”
“Sometimes you see them, and sometimes you talk to them, and sometimes you do more than that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Prince consulted a file. “September 12, 1998, Todd and Sharon Koch of Anchorage were paddling a canoe from the Two Lake campsite to the Four Lake Ranger Station when two men matching your descriptions appeared on the beach and started shooting at them.”
Engebretsen whimpered.
“Got nothing to do with us,” Kvichak growled. “We were home by the twelfth.”
“So your sister Barbara said,” Prince agreed. “And your brother-in-law Rob, and your nieces Karen, Sarah and Patricia, and your nephews John, Patrick and Tom. I’m sure your mother would have said so, too, only she was in the hospital in Anchorage on the twelfth.”
“You can’t prove a goddamn thing.”
“You’re right,” Prince said, nodding. “We can’t, and we couldn’t. Same way we couldn’t when a bunch of hikers up Utah Canyon got their camp trashed.”
Engebretsen drew in a long, shaky breath. Kvichak shot him a warning glance. “Yeah, Corcoran asked us about that, but we were on the other side of the bluff from Utah.”
“Of course you were,” Prince said.
“I wanna go to the bathroom,” Engebretsen said.
“In a minute,” Prince said.
Engebretsen plucked up his courage. “You’re always saying ‘in a minute.’ How come not now?”
She smiled at him, a thin-lipped, humorless stretch of the lips. “Because we’re not done talking, Teddy.”
He slumped back in his chair.
“For crissake,” Kvichak said angrily, “let the poor bastard go to the john, why dontcha?”
She turned the smile on him. “In a minute.”
“Fuck you!”
Liam turned his head and said, “John, your Winchester shotgun was the one used to kill Mark Hanover. Crime Lab called, and they say there’s no doubt.”
Kvichak stared at him, his face white and shocked, whether at the sound of Liam’s first words in three hours or at the words themselves.
Liam rose to his feet. “Let’s get some lunch,” he said to Prince, and led the way out of the interview room. Prince had to hustle to get behind him before the door closed.
They stood in the hallway. “Shh,” Liam said with one upraised finger.
An outburst of shouting came from behind the door, and Liam smiled.
“Sir, I-”
“They were thirsty, they were hungry, they did need to pee. Now they’re scared. Let’s let them be scared for a while.”
Prince chewed her lip. “How much longer can we hold them without charging them?”
“Another twelve hours.”
“The local magistrate would pick now to head up the creek.”
“All to our advantage. If Bill were here, she’d probably sign off on a warrant, but she’d let them out on bail.” He saw Prince’s look. “Hey, John Kvichak’s brother-in-law’s the biggest bum unhung. John’s the sole support of his sister’s family and his mother. Teddy Engebretsen’s dad is eighty-two, and he lives with Teddy. Neither one of them is a flight risk. Besides, where would they go?”
“Anywhere in the Bush?”
“It’s coming on winter, they’d either starve or freeze.”
They went to Eagle and cruised the deli counter, Liam settling on deep-fried chicken and Prince on a ham and cheese sandwich. They journeyed back to the post, ate their lunch without haste, called the Anchorage D.A. with information about a sex offender recently paroled, which parole he had immediately broken, big surprise.
At fifteen past one, they presented themselves back at the jail. At sixteen past one, they walked into the interview room. Engebretsen looked up and said, “I want to talk.”
“Teddy-” Kvichak said.
“No,” Engebretsen said with unaccustomed firmness. “Let’s just tell them the truth, Johnny. One more time. Either they’ll believe us or they won’t-”
“They won’t. Cops never know the truth when they hear it.”
“Either they’ll believe us or they won’t,” Engebretsen repeated, his voice wavering a little. “Either way, I’m talking.”
“Shit.” Kvichak folded his arms and glowered. “I ain’t having nothing to do with it.”
“Fine,” Engebretsen said. “I’ll tell.”
Prince looked at Liam with undisguised admiration.
They’d heard the shot from their camp on the bluff, Engebretsen said. “It was our last day, you know, we’d limited out on everything, we butchered everything out, put it in game sacks, we were just waiting on Wy.” He glanced sideways at Kvichak. “So we opened the beer.”
“How long was it before you heard the shots?” Prince said.
“Man, I don’t know,” Engebretsen said. “We opened the beer early. I think I was on my third. I mean, we just didn’t need to be sober anymore, so we weren’t trying to be. Hell, we’d been drinking most of the night, if it comes to that. I don’t know, nine o’clock, maybe? Maybe earlier.”
Liam looked at Kvichak. Kvichak held his eyes for a long moment. “Oh hell,” he said, slumping. “It was about eight-thirty, and before you say anything, yeah, we were already half in the bag.”
“It was the first shots we’d heard that didn’t come from our guns, you know?” Engebretsen said. “We hadn’t even heard any planes, and the nearest cabin is that crotchety old Italian at Warehouse Mountain, and that’s twenty miles away. Then we remembered that mining claim on Nenevok, and we thought maybe they were in trouble? Like one of them fired a warning shot for help, you know?”