Still. Every instinct she possessed told her that Xenia knew something she wasn’t telling her cousin. She wondered how long it would take to get it out of her. She never doubted for a moment that she would, but in spite of her fierce rejection of family responsibility, her protective instincts where the younger members of her family were involved ran strong and deep. They would not permit her the luxury of an all-out frontal assault. But a little gentle prodding and Xenia would remember all the times good old cousin Kate had kept Tiny Mike the school bully from beating up on her. Eventually she would decide that Kate was after all a fit person to confide in. She made plans to return to her grandmother’s house early the next morning.
The light from the uncurtained window in the shack’s door streamed out into the arctic night, clearly outlining her figure on the top step. She heard a snap like ice cracking on a frozen lake, a whine like a super-charged hornet past her cheek and a splat as the bullet carved a furrow into the door and lodged in the jamb.
Mutt barked once, a sharp, warning sound. Kate took a giant leap and hurled herself down the short, steep flight of stairs and behind the berm of snow that lined the path to the shack. Her shoulder hit first and she rolled into a crouch, her heart pounding so loudly that for a few moments she could hear nothing else. Her body felt instantaneously cold all over, right down into each individual digit. She felt as if she had X-ray eyes, that she could hear and decipher with bare ear the signals coming in via the satellite dish behind her, that she was able to smell the decay of summer grass buried deep beneath hard-packed snow. Every one of her senses was receiving such an overload of information that she was too busy collating it all to be scared. She had never felt more alive in her life.
“What the hell was that?” she heard the NorthCom operator yell. She heard the smack of bare feet as Xenia hit the floor, and knew her cousin would be fleeing in a panic out the door in moments.
“Stay where you are!” she yelled, or tried to. Her maimed throat made it difficult. She eeled herself backward, beneath the steps, and spoke as loudly as she could through the floor. Mutt, clearly puzzled, slunk along beside her, her ears up in inquiry, whining a little. “Stay where you are,” she repeated. “It’s some nut with a gun up at the school. Get down behind the counter and stay there.”
She kicked the floor for emphasis. “Stay!” she told Mutt, and slid back over the hard-packed snow. She risked a look up over the berm. Nothing. She stretched out flat and slithered on her belly down the icy path to where the walkway met Niniltna’s main street. A quick peek from behind the snow piled at the side of the street revealed no stir of movement. She got up on all fours and picked her way over dog turds and Snickers wrappers and empty plastic Windsor Canadian whiskey bottles, carefully keeping her head below the level of the snow berm. When the berm ended in the school’s parking lot she paused, stiffened her spine and risked another look up over it.
There was a second crack and a splatter of snow over her face. At the same time a heavy weight hit her in the small of the back, laying her out flat on her stomach. Mutt growled out a bark and she heard a scrabble of padded feet.
The breath had been knocked out of her, and all she could do for the next few moments was lie there trying to get it back. She waited for Mutt to tear the head off of whoever was on top of her.
The dog skidded to a halt less than three feet away; Kate could see her clearly from where her cheek was pressed against the cold snow. Mutt growled once, barked once and then flattened her ears and wagged her tail.
“You all right, girl?” a voice rasped in her ear.
Kate got her breath back with a rush. “Abel?”
“Who else?”
“Get off me, you old fart!”
Abel slid to the snow next to her and jacked a round into the bolt-action Winchester Model 54 that was almost as old as he was and that he always carried with him just in case he met up with a bull moose in rut or a Fish and Game agent, whichever came first. He pulled his legs up under him, popped up behind the berm and let off a round in the general direction of the school. “Just to let the bastard know we got teeth, too,” he said reassuringly as he flopped back down next to her. “Who’s shooting at you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” Abel worked the bolt of his rifle and pulled himself upright again.
“Abel, no!”
This time the shooter was waiting. As soon as Abel’s torso cleared the berm there was a shot. Abel returned fire and fell back down next to Kate with a thump.
“Goddam you, old man!”
Abel’s eyes were screwed shut as he groped around near his right shoulder. One eye opened and surveyed her with disfavor. “You’re beginning to repeat yourself, girl.”
Kate crouched over him and yanked his hand down from his shoulder. With it came a handful of down pulled out of the torn sleeve of his parka, a cloud of tiny feathers which caught in her hair and flew into her eyes and were inhaled up her nose. She sneezed once, violently, and glared at him. There was no wound, no blood. She felt a wave of relief supersede the roil of terror, and glared all the harder. “And I’ll keep repeating myself until you hear me, old man. You keep getting in my way, goddammit. I won’t have it, do you hear?”
His head came up off the snow. “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“Yeah, I hear that bugger who was just shooting at us beating feet outa here.”
Kate became aware of pounding footsteps moving away from the back of the school gym. A swell of pure rage heaved her to her feet in one surging movement. “Mutt! Fetch!”
Mutt hit the ground running, a gray streak stretched out low, skimming over the snow like a ghost. Even as she vanished around the dark bulk of the gymnasium, they heard a snow machine splutter into life and roar off. Kate cursed and ran after the dog.
The lot was empty of anything but snow and ice and what looked like one of Dandy Mike’s half-breed husky—German shepherds who, seeing her, came trotting over to sniff interestedly at her crotch. Mutt, looking for a fight in her frustration at not catching whoever had had the audacity to shoot at her very own private human, growled a loud and toothy warning.
“It’s all right, Mutt,” Kate said, beating back her rage and fear. She knew just how Mutt felt. She slapped the other dog’s nose away and began a search of the area, doubled over with her nose nearly touching the snow. It was too late; whoever it was had disappeared into the night. And they’d either picked up their shell casings or she couldn’t find them in the dark. The old snow, worn down by a healthy and energetic student body, grades one through twelve, was not the best surface on which to find tracks. It was so dry and hard it squeaked underfoot. Kate gave it up in disgust and walked back to the road.
“Guess we scared the bugger off,” Abel observed complacently.
Kate shook her head. “Abel, Abel, Abel,” she said, still shaking her head and trying to keep her knees from doing the same. “What am I going to do with you? You could have been shot. You could have been killed.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” he said testily, “and it seems to me we should stir around and find out who that bugger was instead of standing here freezing to death, moaning over whether or not I should be here!”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Kate said.
No answer. Abel bent over to retrieve his moose exterminator and occupied himself with removing every speck of snow or ice that might or might not have found its way into the mechanism.
Kate, half-amused, half-exasperated, said, “You think I can’t take care of myself, is that it? You raised me to, Abel.”
“I ain’t saying a word.” Abel’s jaw set stubbornly. “All I know is a guy’s missing, and the guy that went after him went missing, too, and if it’s cold now it’ll be twice that when I have to come looking for you when you go missing. You and your goddam loaded pipeliners.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Abel, were you at the Roadhouse this evening?” she demanded.
“I a
in’t saying a word.” He sighted carefully along the barrel of his rifle. “Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t. Somebody had to put in a call to make sure Chopper Jim was on his way.”
Kate, wanting to order him home, knowing he wouldn’t go, praying he wouldn’t get in the way, knowing he would, gave it up and resigned herself to a second guard dog. “Well, all I know is it’s a little late now to decide you were a lousy teacher.”
“I ain’t saying a word,” he said, shedding a glove to pick at a minute speck of ice on the Winchester’s trigger guard.
“Fine,” she said, and stamped back to the NorthCom shack, where she found the NorthCom operator and Xenia shivering in the doorway. Xenia jumped the three steps in a single leap and clutched at Kate. “Did you see who it was, Katya? Did you catch him?”
“No.”
Xenia’s grip relaxed and her hands slid down to her sides.
Kate looked thoughtfully at her cousin’s tense, frightened face. “You and I are going to have ourselves a little talk, Xenia.” She looked from her cousin to the NorthCom operator. “Mind if we use your place?”
“Sure, I—” The kid caught her eye and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I was just about to go down to the store to, uh, buy some milk, anyway.”
Xenia said, “But the store closes at six.”
He gestured vaguely. “Well, then, I’ll go borrow a cup from Mickey Komkoff. Back in a flash.” He disappeared into the shack and reappeared attired in pants, parka and boots. He gave Xenia a loud, smacking kiss, Kate a pointed look daring her to object, and headed up the path.
Kate pushed her reluctant cousin into the shack and closed the door on Abel’s bright, inquisitive gaze. Xenia went to the room’s only chair and sat down, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
“I want the truth this time, Xenia,” Kate said sternly. “All of it.”
The girl was silent, hugging herself.
“What do you think happened to Mark Miller that you’re not telling me?” Xenia said nothing. Kate, suddenly furious with the selfish little brat, strode across to where she was sitting and hauled her up out of her chair by the front of her shirt. “He said he loved you, Xenia, and he’s missing and he might be dead, and now someone’s shooting at me probably because they don’t want me to find out. Don’t you care? If not about Miller, then about me?” She snarled out the last words.
Xenia looked at her out of brown eyes bright with tears. She looked about six years old. Kate loosened her grip on Xenia’s shirt, and the girl slid out of her grasp and onto the floor as if her legs were made of warm wax. She pulled her knees up and hid her face in them and spoke without looking at Kate. “You’ll find me a job in Anchorage? You promise? You’ll get me away from here?”
Kate unzipped her snowsuit and peeled it down to her waist. She sat down next to her cousin and tried to temper the disgust and exasperation she felt. “I’d do that anyway. From what I’ve seen in the last eight hours, the sooner you get out of Niniltna the better. No, no, never mind that now. Just tell me what happened the night Mark Miller disappeared.”
What happened the night of October 26 was that Xenia and Mark Miller had made a date to meet at Bernie’s Roadhouse, since Ekaterina had made it clear the ranger wasn’t welcome in Ekaterina’s house, Xenia’s home since her mother and father had died in a plane crash three years before. “Then Martin came in,” Xenia said, tears in her brown eyes, “and caught us dancing together. He grabbed Mark and hit him, and Mark hit him back, and pretty soon the whole bar was fighting.” The tearful brown gaze fell back to her knees. “I was scared, so I ran.”
“You left the Roadhouse?”
“Yes.”
“You left Mark behind?”
“I told you I was scared, and he’s a man, he could take care of himself.”
“An Outsider, a greenie, against a bar full of Moonins and Shugaks?”
The girl gave a petulant shrug. “What about me? I had to walk home all alone, from the Roadhouse back to town, in the cold. You know what happens to people who do that.” She gasped and bit her lip, looking at Kate with frightened eyes.
“Yes, I know,” Kate said without emotion. “What happened next?”
“Like I said, I started walking home. I was almost to the Lost Chance Creek bridge before I heard a car. I turned around to wave and I saw that it was Martin’s pickup and so I ducked down next to the bridge railing and waited for it to go over the bridge. But it didn’t.”
“What did it do?” The girl’s shoulders shook, and Kate repeated implacably, “What did the truck do?”
“It stopped in the middle of the bridge and two men got out and started messing around with something in the back. It was dark and I couldn’t see very well and besides I was—”
“You were scared,” Kate said.
The girl gave her a resentful look and said sullenly, “Well, I was.”
“So you were scared,” Kate said impatiently. “So would I have been, so would anyone. I’m not judging you.” At least I’m trying like hell not to, she thought. “What happened next?”
“So I ducked down and waited. The guys were grunting and staggering like whatever was in the back was heavy. I heard footsteps go from the pickup to the side of the bridge, and then I heard the splash.” She started to cry again. “Martin’ll kill me if he knows I told you. I’ve got to get out of here, Katya!”
“You’re sure it was Martin’s truck?” Kate said relentlessly, ignoring the tears.
Xenia gulped back a sob. “Yes. I saw the license plate and that dented tailgate he got when the fish hawk ran him off the road to serve that warrant, you know, for that time Martin got caught seining behind the markers on Teglliq Creek. Martin always said those markers were too far out—”
“Never mind the fish hawk and the Teglliq Creek markers. Did you see who the second man was?”
“No, I told you, I was too scared to look, and they didn’t talk much, except to swear.”
Kate was silent for a long time. At last she stirred and stood up. “All right, Xenia.”
“Are you going to talk to Martin?”
Kate looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Of course I am.”
“Are you going to tell him I told you?” Xenia trembled and began to cry again. “You can’t tell him, you can’t, he’ll kill me!”
“Don’t whine, for God’s sake,” Kate snapped. “If he didn’t see you and you haven’t told him you were there, all I have to tell him is that there was a witness. He doesn’t have to know who.”
“And you’ll get me that job in Anchorage, Katya? And maybe a place to stay?”
“Shut up, Xenia,” Kate said from between clenched teeth. “Just shut up.”
“Oh, it’s always been so easy for you,” the girl cried, “old Snow White! You never do anything wrong and you’re never afraid! Katya! Where are you going?” she said, the tears beginning to flow a third time.
“Bobby’s.” Kate turned, and added over her shoulder, “If anyone asks for me and they’re carrying a rifle, try not to tell them where I am, okay?”
Chapter Six
He had his headphones on, lost in a wide-band frequency fog, and didn’t answer when Kate knocked, so she opened the door that was always unlocked and went in and tapped him on the shoulder.
He jumped about a foot off his chair and slewed around to glare at her. Recognition came at once. “Goddam, woman,” he roared, ripping his headphones off and slamming them down, “I told you a million times not to sneak up on me like that!”
Mutt jumped up to rest her forepaws on his shoulders and swiped at his face with a long pink tongue. “Goddam, woman,” Bobby roared again, fending her off, “you got that fucking wolf with you! I told you before, no fucking wolves in the house!”
Unintimidated, Mutt swiped at him again and, formal greetings duly exchanged, got down and trotted over to the fireplace to root purposefully through the wood box, eventually producing something roughly on the scale of the femur of a stegosaurus.
Bobby, a forward thinker, always had something in the wood box to keep the wolves at bay. Mutt settled down in the front of the fireplace and began to gnaw with an expression of almost sinful content.
Kate wiped Bobby’s scowling face and leaned forward to kiss him. The roar shut off and he leaned into the kiss with enthusiasm. He opened one eye in the middle of the kiss to make sure she was enjoying it as much as he was and saw Abel standing in the open doorway regarding them with deep disapproval and a terrifying scowl.
“Oh,” Bobby said, freeing his lips but not noticeably terrified and not releasing Kate. “Hello, Abel.”
“Bobby,” Abel said, nodding. “I got you here safe, girl. I’m heading over to Ekaterina’s now. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You’re welcome to stay here, Abel,” Bobby said. He let one enormous paw settle on Kate’s left hip.
The old man bent his head stiffly. “’Preciate it, Bobby, but it’s been a bit since I stirred up the old broad. I’m looking forward to it.” He looked around Bobby’s cabin with raised brows. “And she’s always got a room”—he emphasized the word pointedly—“for me.”
“Abel?” Kate said, twisting in Bobby’s hands to look at him. “Thanks.”
Abel bent his head again, and left.
Bobby watched the door close behind him. “Don’t mind him, Bobby,” she said in a low voice. “He’s just old.”
“I don’t,” he said, and then, surprisingly, “He reminds me of my old man. He wouldn’t approve of this either.” Bobby grinned lecherously and kissed Kate again, and then a sneaky third time before she could wriggle free.
“Who are you talking to tonight?” she said, breathless, tugging away from him with difficulty and indicating the radio.
“King Hussein of Jordan,” he said. She laughed, and he raised his eyebrows and said, “You want to say hello?”
Diverted, she said, “Really? Hussein’s a ham?”
“Virginia smoked, like myself,” he said. “Want to talk to him?”
“I’d rather talk to Viktor.”
A Cold Day for Murder Page 9
