“David Malone,” Larsgaard said, after a pause just short of inviting a repeat of the question. “And yes, the Malones live here.”
Or did, his eyes said.
“Who does he fish with?” Liam said, thinking of the number of bodies he had seen littering the galley.
“His family,” one of the elders-Andrew or Ekwok-said.
Liam's heart sank. “His whole family?”
The elder nodded. It was Ekwok, the shortest and fattest member of the group. He had round black eyes set in a round brown face, and he peered up at Liam with all the curiosity of a fiveyearold child meeting his kindergarten teacher for the first time. At six-three, Liam felt like a clumsy giant, and repressed an impulse to squat down so he could meet Ekwok at his own eye level. “The first thing you do upon arrival at a crime scene is to establish an air of authority,” his instructor had told him at the academy. “You are the law on two legs. Let people know that up front and don't ever let them forget it.” Somehow Liam felt that squatting on his haunches would be counter to that directive.
“His wife, his brother, his two children,” Ekwok said.
“And two deckhands,” a second elder-Kashatok?- volunteered. “Gussuks.”
“They were allgussuks,” Ekwok said with an impatient look. “So what? They were our neighbors.”
Everyone looked at Larsgaard, as if expecting him to contradict them, and then studiously away again. The raven mocked them from the top of the light pole. “Oh shut up,” Liam said without thinking. The older men looked up at the raven, back at Liam, down at their feet, almost as if-what? Liam thought. As if what? They looked respectful and wary at the same time, on the alert, ready for action. It was very odd. It also wasn't anything he had time for.
“Do you want to see the Malones' house?” Larsgaard said, still without emotion.
“Yes,” Liam said. “Later, after…” He waved a hand at the boat. They understood.
Ekwok's cherubic face hardened into purposeful lines. “Do you want help, moving them out?”
Liam forced a smile. “Thank you. We'll get them out on deck. Afterward, we could use help in getting them to the plane.” He nodded at the Cessna, its floats run up on the wooden skid fastened to the end of the slip closest to the mouth of the harbor. Prince was closing the door, a bundle of heavy black plastic under one arm. She came toward them, long legs eating up the distance. They all turned to look.Gussukthough she was, Diana Prince was worth a look. She was, Liam thought, surveying her critically over the heads of the other five men, one of the few women he'd met who looked good in a uniform. He knew a mild urge to rip it off her, and glanced at the faces of the other men to see if they shared in the impulse. Impassive expressions or no, he was pretty sure they did.
If she was unnerved by the steady, unwinking regard of six pairs of male eyes, she didn't show it. She looked controlled and very much in command. She halted in front of them. “ Gentlemen,” she said crisply, looking each one of them straight in the eye, one at a time.
Liam groaned to himself. “We have to bag the bodies,” he told the council, unable to dull the harsh effect of the words. “We also have to take pictures and notes of the scene. It'll be a while before we can move the bodies to the plane, and after that I'd like to see the Malones' house and talk to their neighbors. If you could come back in a couple of hours?”
He got a curt nod from Larsgaard and another grave bow from Ekwok and Andrew. The five men turned and moved off in a group. Liam watched them go, noticing they were not speaking to each other as they went.
He turned to Prince. “It's best not to look village elders in this part of the state directly in the eye.”
She thought it over. “Because I'm a woman?”
“Mostly. Plus you're a trooper, an employee of the state government. People in general don't like cops, and people in the Bush don't like the state.”
“A double whammy.”
“Yes. It behooves us to walk very softly.” He didn't say anything about a big stick.
“I'll remember.” Prince handed him a white cloth mask.
“Thanks,” he said, although he doubted anything less than a rebreather would help. He doffed cap and jacket, hoping to keep them free of the smell, put on the mask and the pair of rubber gloves and reopened the door to hell.
Ninety minutes later they had seven body bags out of theMarybethia.Between the two of them, they managed to carry the bags one at a time to the Cessna and stack them inside without calling for extra help. The bodies had been so badly charred that identification was impossible, but the two smaller ones were obviously children and one of the bigger ones was equally obviously a woman.
“Why did you become a trooper?” Wy had asked him, so long ago now, three years and change. It had taken him a few moments to come up with an adequate response. “Because I like rules,” he had said finally. “I like order. We're animals, Wy, plain and simple, even the best of us, and we need rules so we can live with each other. Sometimes somebody breaks the rules, and that's where I come in.”
He could have added that his job let him wear a uniform not of his father's service, in itself a big draw, but he didn't. He didn't talk much about his father to anyone.
“Did you see it?” Prince asked, letting her mask dangle from one ear. Her face was pale but her eyes were bright as she stripped the gloves from her hands.
The game's afoot, Liam thought, looking at her. It was the moment every law officer waited for, when the disgust and dismay of the crime scene had receded and the thrill of the chase began. “I saw it,” he said, making an effort to shake off his revulsion. Later he, too, would be outraged, filled with a white-hot determination to bring the perpetrator or perpetrators to justice, but for the moment he was just trying to keep from vomiting.
The fresh air helped some, and he breathed deeply, fixing his eyes on the green, rolling hills of the shore, hidden and then revealed and then hidden again beneath the bank of drifting mist. The world was still there, and it was not all of it a charnel house, a stage for the perpetual reenactment of man's inhumanity to man. If you keep saying that to yourself, he thought, one day you might even come to believe it.
“A depression in the left temple of one of the male victims,” she said.
“Looked like a bullet hole to me,” he said. “I smelled the gas, too, although that doesn't prove anything on a boat.” He thought of the faint gas smell he woke up to every morning on theDawn P.“But we won't know for sure until we get the results back from the M.E., and that'll take a day or two, and that's after the bodies get there. In the meantime-”
She all but went on point, quivering with eagerness to be on the scent. “In the meantime, we question the family-”
“Doesn't look like there are any left to question.”
“-the villagers-”
“Beginning with the council. They're bound to know everything there is to know. Always assuming they'll talk to us.”
“-and start gathering evidence.”
He almost smiled, but the effort proved too great and he abandoned it. “First things first. You take the bodies back to Newenham.”
She opened her mouth to protest and he said, “The bodies are our first evidence. We can't allow them to decay any further. And you're the only pilot around here with the only plane I see.”
She couldn't argue with that, and closed her mouth again, disappointment clear on her face.
“You're sure you can make it in one trip?”
Her nod was confident. “Not a problem. Not enough weight to overgross the plane.”
“Okay, get them to Newenham and on the next available flight to Anchorage. Call the M.E.'s office-the number's on the Rolodex on my desk-and tell them they are on their way. Tell Brillo Pad we need results as fast as he can get them to us.”