Ruthe had also declined, on the excuse of having to get ready for the expedition. Johnny was carrying a tinfoil package of turkey and dressing with him to Ruthe's.
Jim had been called out to a domestic disturbance, endemic over the holidays and in the Park frequently fatal if some calming, uniformed presence was not applied. This had turned out to make for a more enjoyable dinner, because Dan had been wound up tighter than a bedspring when he walked in. The moment Jim walked out the door he relaxed, leaning back suddenly against his chair as if the wires holding him up had been cut.
Later, after everyone had gone and Jim had returned, Kate said, "What's with you and Dan?"
Something stirred at the back of his eyes, but he said, "What do you mean?"
She shook her head and got up from the couch. "Don't tell me if you can't or if you just don't want to, but don't tell me nothing's going on." She went upstairs, brushed her teeth, stripped, and got into bed.
He followed, climbing in next to her without speaking. They went to sleep on their sides facing away from each other, but she woke up in the middle of the night to find him parting her legs with his knee and sliding inside her in one bold stroke. Something got off the chain then, and she rolled, forcing him to his back. She nipped at his ear, his belly, the sensitive curve of his thigh, and when she rose again he was red-faced and straining, his body one long pleading arch. She mounted him this time, pinning his hands to the mattress, and rode him furiously to an explosive culmination that left them both sweat-soaked and gasping for breath.
There was more rutting than making love about it but it made for a solid and dreamless sleep, and she woke the next morning if not with a song in her heart then at least with a sense of well-being and renewal, which had lasted until Johnny began packing to leave on his camping trip.
"If you find out that the herd has decreased," Kate had asked Ruthe when informed of the trip, "and if you find out that wolf predation is the cause, you're going to tell Dan about it, right?"
Ruthe didn't answer, but then Kate hadn't expected her to. Ruthe was perfectly capable of effecting some predator control all by herself, thank you. With twenty-ten vision and an upper body strength honed by decades of backwoods life, she was one of the best shots in the Park. Certainly she was better than Kate.
Kate kneaded the dough until it was smooth and elastic, covered the bowl with Saran Wrap, and set it to one side to rise. She washed her hands and got out her USGS map of the Park. Three of the four corners were missing and it was coming apart at every crease. She really must order a new one.
She unfolded it on the dining table and located Niniltna and the approximate location of Ruthe's cabin, about halfway between Niniltna and the Roadhouse. Ruthe had told her that they were planning on following the Kanuyaq for ten or twelve miles and then cutting overland on a heading east-southeast.
After some searching, Kate found the Gruening River, its source in the Quilaks south of the Big Bump, running by tortuous twists and turns south by southwest to drain into the Kanuyaq River just above the delta where the Kanuyaq itself drained into Prince William Sound. She traced an imaginary line from Ruthe's cabin to the Gruening River basin, and sat back with an air of having all her worst suspicions confirmed.
What no one had said but what was perfectly obvious to anyone with even rudimentary map reading skills was that Ruthe's suggested route was going to take them right over Global Harvest's Suulutaq Mine leases.
Jim had to fly to Cordova that morning to put Margaret Kvasnikof and Hallelujah Smith on a plane to Anchorage. They would be taking up residency in the Hiland Mountain Correctional Facility, there to begin serving a four-year sentence for defrauding the Alaska Permanent Fund of almost a quarter of a million dollars, by way of false dividend applications in the names of forty-three imaginary children over a period of five years. It was the biggest single PFD bust in state history and Kate's biggest paying case to date, and every Alaskan loved to hate people who ripped off the PFD. There had been significant airtime devoted to the conviction, which hadn't done Kate's business any harm.
He handed the two felons over to their escort at Mudhole Smith Airport and waited till the Alaska Airlines 737 was wheels up before hitching a ride into town with a local fisherman just back from a visit to the dentist in Anchorage. He could drive his truck but he couldn't talk, so it was a quiet ride, which suited Jim. He had a lot on his mind.
He knew why he'd been pissy lately. He was keeping secrets from Kate. Only one secret, actually, but it was a whopper. He couldn't prove it in court, and Willard didn't even remember it, but Jim was certain that Louis Deem had loaded Willard like a gun and shot him off in the direction of the Koslowskis' house that night with the intention of burgling the gold in the display case in the living room.
He knew that the longer he went without telling Kate, the worse it would be when he did tell her. Worse still would be if she found out on her own, but since he was equally certain that he was the only one who knew, he wasn't afraid of that. Much.
The thing was, she'd been a little pissy lately, too. No reason had surfaced as to why. He wondered if he'd even have noticed it if they hadn't been all but living together. He still rented his room at Auntie Vi's, but it was more an overnight flop for when he had to work late than separate living quarters, and the step increase he got for working in the Bush more than covered the expense.
No, he thought grimly, he was living with Kate, all right. All he kept at Auntie Vi's was a change of clothes and a spare toothbrush.
It didn't frighten him as much as it once had. There was still passion, and laughter, a shared sense of the ridiculous. They had a lot in common in work and in play. He was a trooper, she was a PI. They both read recreationally, anything and everything, and that was a bond right there. Kate, he knew, thought better of people who read. He sometimes thought it was what had pushed her over the top as far as he was concerned. Okay by him. They both liked to talk about any and every topic under the sun, nothing sacred, everything fair game from abortion to gay marriage to states' rights to Alaska seceding from the union and forming its own country with Siberia and the western provinces of Canada.
They both loathed recreational exercise. Jim had been a little surprised by that. Kate would think nothing of strapping on crosscountry skis to go over to Mandy's if the snow machine wouldn't start, but ask her to go skiing just for the fun of it and she'd look at you like you'd grown a second head. He supposed it was natural for someone born to a Bush lifestyle, though. Anyone who could fix a hole in a roof that had been punctured by parts falling off a Boeing 747 was bound to be in good enough shape for anything else that came along.
She was beautiful. Or maybe not beautiful, exactly. He didn't know anymore. He knew he liked looking at her, waking, sleeping, laughing, loving, happy, even pissed off, even if it was at him. He liked watching her work, that innate curiosity that demanded satisfaction, that would brook no distraction until all the questions had been answered.
It surprised him that she still believed in justice. She'd been lied to, beat up, shot at, her house had been burned down, her truck had been run off the road, her dog had almost been killed, she herself had been in the hospital more times than Evel Knievel, and left not in the best of shape even when she managed to stay out of it. Only too well did he remember finding her bruised and covered with blood, driving a stolen truck with the exaggerated care of a drunk down what was little more than a goat track out of the back range of the mountains north of Anchorage. She put herself at risk too often, and all for a lousy paycheck.
He smiled to himself.
It wasn't the paycheck, and no one knew that better than he did.