“Quitting make it all better?”
He whipped his head around, his expression fierce. She did not back down. “As a better detective than either of us once said, ‘Remorse is the ultimate in self-abuse.’ You can be sorry if you want to, Jim, but I’m telling you there is no reason for you to be.”
“But—”
“You know why Ken was here? He was here because of me, because I killed his cousin.” She waved away his protest. “As good as, yes, I did, and it wasn’t because his cousin was trying to kill me, although I have no doubt he would have if I’d let him get the drop on me. No, I was there for my mom and my dad, and every other drunk he enabled with his bootlegging. I was there for revenge, and I got it. Ken came here for the exact same reason. It took nine years, but what goes around comes around is only a cliché because it’s true.”
“I still should have shot him when he walked into the clearing holding that rifle.“
“Okay. You should have shot him sooner, but you did get him later, and you got me to Ahtna General in time to save my life.” She leaned forward and kissed him.
His voice was ragged. “This better not be because you’re in any way sorry for me, Kate.”
She pulled back and looked at him, and burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. And then she leaned forward and kissed him again, tears of laughter still gathered on her eyelashes.
He sat very still, all his attention on the full red lips pressed into his. It couldn’t be this easy, it just couldn’t be. After a moment her tongue came out and teased his mouth open. He hauled her into lap, one hand knotted in her hair, the other clamped around her waist. Dimly he heard her gasp and the hell with that, he was busy. He was starving for her and he kissed her just like that. She might have groaned, maybe, he didn’t know and didn’t care. He heard pinging sounds on the floor and realized he’d ripped off her shirt without bothering to unbutton it and the T-shirt underneath was over her head and off and she wasn’t wearing a bra and jesus, the feel of her breasts in his hands, the taste of her nipples on his tongue, he was dizzy, it was like he’d never been there before.
He raised his head and managed to say, “Let me just apologize in advance for the lack of foreplay.”
“In a hurry?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Me, too.”
That was all he needed to hear. He jerked her jeans and underwear down and off and tossed them somewhere and pushed his hand between her legs and oh my fucking god she was already wet for him but there was no point in not making sure and he pushed her down on the couch and shoved her legs apart and attacked her with his mouth. She screamed, yes, she did, and her body arched like a bow, head and heels only touching the couch, thighs quivering on either side of his face. He pulled back and fumbled at his fly and found she was there before him, and then her hand was on him and they rolled off the couch onto the floor and he was inside her. There was a moment in there somewhere, a moment when they paused, staring into each other’s eyes, motionless in that most intimate of embraces. No word was said and it didn’t last long before they moved on to more important business but they both felt somehow as if a promise had been made.
Late in the night Kate woke up in bed, Jim asleep next to her, with only a confused series of memories as to how they’d gotten there, beginning on the floor next to the couch and continuing on the stairs and hadn’t they tried to take a shower at some point and made it only as far as the bathroom floor? She had no idea what time it was as they’d knocked the clock off the nightstand, and how many times the sun might have risen and set, and—oh hell, she’d forgotten about the bread.
She slipped from the beneath the covers and pulled on the first thing that came to hand, Jim’s T-shirt. It reached her knees, better than a nightgown, and she went quietly downstairs to find the bread had almost but not quite risen over the edges of the bowl. She’d just punched it down and covered it again and had moved the moose ribs from the sink into the refrigerator when Jim came around the corner from the living room. He was naked, all hard muscle and long bone with no hint of softness anywhere.
With a slight shock she realized drool was pooling in her mouth. Could she be so shallow that she could allow herself to be seduced on looks alone? Evidently she could because without thinking about it she went down on her knees. He stood it for as long as he could before he yanked her up by her hair and plopped her down on the counter and had her hard and fast and loud right next to the bread.
She only hoped they didn’t frighten the yeast.
Fourteen
Tuesday, November 8th
Kate’s homestead
“You were nervous.”
“Hmmm?”
“You were nervous.” He was watching her wake up, his head propped up on one hand. “That’s why you didn’t come straight home. You were nervous about this.”
She closed her eyes again and stretched, reveling in the soreness she felt pretty much everywhere. “Maybe I was. A little.”
“Why?”
“It hurt. The healing. A lot. For a while there I didn’t think it was ever going to stop hurting.”
He reached and touched the scar between her breasts with one gentle finger. She shivered. “You thought I would hurt you more?”
She smiled. “The unaccustomed exercise, maybe. And I think, too—”
“What?”
She opened her eyes to meet his. “I might have felt a little, I don’t know, shy? It had been a while.”
“Are you blushing?” He leaned in. “You are. Kate Shugak is blushing. I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”
“Jerk.” She shoved him flat with both hands against his chest and climbed over him to head for the bathroom and the shower. When she came out again she could hear him banging around downstairs in the kitchen. Her stomach gave a loud growl and she pulled on clean underwear and jeans and a white T-shirt, combed her wet hair and padded downstairs on her bare feet.
He was laying out strips of bacon in their biggest cast iron frying pan. “Hungry?”
“Starving. I missed dinner.”
Their eyes met, and they both laughed.
“I’ll fry up the whole pound then,” he said.
“Oh yeah baby. Talk to me. Just like that.” She turned on the oven, punched down the bread, shaped it into loaves before pouring herself a mug full of coffee. There was even half-and-half in the fridge. No truer sign of affection.
She sipped and gave a luxurious sigh. There was nothing like a night’s—interrupted—sleep in your own bed followed by coffee from your own coffee maker.
“You need to go into town today?”
“Why?”
“Election day. To vote.”
She looked at him. “It’s Tuesday?”
The shark’s grin was back and, boy, was it smug. “It is.”
“I missed dinner twice?”
“We both did, it is Tuesday, and it’s election day.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I’m whelmed by your enthusiasm.”
“So am I. We’ve got one candidate who declares bankruptcy so he doesn’t have to pay his bills, games the system so he doesn’t have to pay his taxes, feels free to assault any woman any time anywhere, is BFF’s with a KGB thug and who jokes about using nuclear weapons. And in the opposite corner, ladies and gentlemen, his opponent, the only candidate he could possibly beat. Politics pretty much broken in this country. We can only hope it doesn’t break the country. too.”
“Uh-huh. You gonna go vote?”
She sighed. “I have to. If I don’t Emaa will rise up from the dead and smite me down where I stand.” She deepened her voice and put her consonants way in the back of her throat. “‘There were times when our people couldn’t vote at all, Katya. You have a voice. It is your duty to use it in respect of their memory.’”
“Jesus.” He shuddered. “Don’t do that. It’s like Ekaterina’s standing right here.”
“What I’m talking about.�
� A phone rang. “Yours or mine?”
He gave her a look. “I don’t have R2-D2 as a ringtone.”
“More fool you.” She found her phone under the table where it must have landed when Jim yanked her pants off, and by then it had gone to voicemail. It was Kurt and she saw that he had already left her two messages. She called back. “Kurt? Hey, sorry, I—what?” She met Jim’s eyes through the passthrough and grinned, a wide, satisfied grin. “I was up late. I slept in this morning. Okay, two mornings. So sue me.” She listened. “Hey, wait a minute, okay? I’m going to put you on speaker.”
She came into the kitchen. “Jim’s here, too.”
“Hey, Kurt.”
“Oh. Ah. Hey. Hi, Jim. So…you found her.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right. Yeah. Uh. Ouch! Quit that! Okay. Okay, I called the book guy in New York yesterday and he wouldn’t tell me anything. So I called him again this morning at six a.m. our time, I’ll have you know, which is ten a.m. their time and when his shop opens. His name is Brent Schuyler, pronounced Sky-lur, and he sounds about eleventy-hundred years old.”
A female voice said something in the background. “Okay, yeah, all right, geeze, sorry. Actually, Fina called him, and she actually sweet-talked him into telling us what was in the package.”
Jim raised his spatula in salute. “Yay, Fina.”
“Yup, that’s my girl.” There were kissy face sounds.
“Yeah, yeah, get a room. What was it? What did he send?”
“Get ready for the weirdest part of this whole crazy mess, Kate. It was a prospectus for the Kanuyaq Mine.”
Kate stared at the phone.
“Kate?”
She exchanged a mystified glance with Jim. “Yeah, we’re here. The Kanuyaq Mine?”
“Yup.”
“The defunct Kanuyaq Mine? The copper mine the owners abandoned eighty years ago and pulled up the rails of the railroad behind them as they left?”
“That’s the one.” Kurt waited. “Kate?”
“Yeah, we’re here. First of all, what is a prospectus, exactly?”
“I asked him that. Babe, stop that! Fina asked him, I mean. It’s a formal legal document that is filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission that lays out the details of a prospective investment opportunity.”
“So the backers of the Kanuyaq Mine wrote a brochure that tells all their rich friends, hey, we found a shitload of copper in the ground up here, buy a share and we’ll double your money when we get it out.”
“Pretty much.”
“Did whatshisname have another of those prospectuses?”
“I knew you’d ask that. He said no. He said he can keep a look out for another one but he’s only ever seen this one in fifty years in the rare document business and he’s not hopeful.”
“Would the SEC have a copy?”
“Mr. Schuyler says probably not. The Kanuyaq went into operation in, what, 1907? The SEC’s only been around since 1934.”
“Maybe the University of Alaska has one in its archives. Or maybe the Department of Natural Resources has an archive of its own in Juneau.”
“I can ask.”
“Do, please, and right away.” Kate had that urgent feeling she always got when a case was beginning to break, and that she knew from experience presaged the moment when everything began to tumble out of control, where detection met chaos theory. That was usually when people got hurt, although this time everyone who could get hurt was missing or already dead. On a sudden inspiration she said, “Hey, and if you tap out on finding a prospectus, see if you can find any document that lists the original shareholders in the Kanuyaq.”
“Geeze, Kate, you’re talking more than a century ago.”
“I know. It’s a long shot but it might explain Fergus McDonald’s disappearance and why someone killed his wife and his friend.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know yet, but see if you can find a list, okay?”
A sigh. “Sure. I suppose this is right away, too?”
“The sooner the better. Thanks, Kurt.”
She hung up and started to say something to Jim when her phone rang again. She looked at the screen. “This guy again? Seriously?”
“Who?” Jim said.
She said into her phone, “Gavin, I’m thinking you just can’t wait to see me naked again.”
“What?” Gavin said.
“What!” Jim said.
“Look, I told you, there is no ID yet on the body and that I’d call you when there was. If you call me one more time, I won’t.” She hung up and turned to Jim. “How do you feel about taking the Cessna up to the Step?”
He stared at her for a long moment, and then swiped the phone out of her hand and pulled up the weather app.
· · ·
The honking big high hanging over Alaska showed no signs as yet of going anywhere and Jim took off hot into a clear, calm blue sky and reset the altimeter for the elevation of the Step. The sun hovered not far above the horizon for its brief daily appearance and the Park rolled away beneath them in a vast, frosted expanse. Ahead, the Quilaks stood to attention, sabers raised to discourage anyone foolhardy enough to attempt boarding. The Step, an enormous natural ledge as big as any one of the individual mountains but with a lot more level ground coalesced out of the metamorphic wall. Jim did a fly-by and then came around in a broad bank and set the 206 down in a runway paint job.
“Nice,” Kate said.
“Thanks.” He sounded offhand but she knew better.
They taxied to the main building, a modular similar to the building that housed the Suulutaq offices, just older and smaller. Dan was waiting for them at the door and all over the Cessna the instant the prop stopped rotating. “Man oh man oh man. Jim, jesus, what a beauty. Look at her, she looks goddamn new. What a cherry! When did you get her? Why haven’t I had a ride in her yet? When can I? When you gonna let me take her up?”
“Saturday, that’s why, some day, and never.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, she’s new, you don’t want any mitts but yours on her, that’ll change.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Well, at least gimme a ride. Come on, Jim.”
“What are you, ten? Get away from my baby, O’Brian.”
Ranger Dan tore his eyes away from his newfound love. “Kate!”
“Yeah. I’m here, too. How ’bout that.”
“Kate!” The chief ranger picked her up off the ground and whirled her around and set her back down to give her a thorough look over. “Damn, you look good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Yeah, well—” The ranger looked at Jim and thought better of what he was going to say. “Come on in, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
They sat down in the little mess over espresso drinks from the fancy machine on the counter—“The federal gummint ante up for something as unnecessary as an espresso machine? Oh hell no. We did a whip-around and paid for it ourselves.”—and Dan said, “So what’s up? Not that I’m not happy to see you, Kate.”
Jim rolled his eyes and occupied himself with his americano.
“Tell me about the Kanuyaq Mine.”
He blinked. “Sorry. The Kanuyaq Mine?”
“Yeah, the defunct copper mine four miles from Niniltna. I know that much already. Tell me why someone would be interested in having a look at the original prospectus.”
The chief ranger looked baffled. “I don’t have a clue. They shut her down partly because all the easy ore was gone and partly because the price of copper tanked during the Depression. It’s just a tourist destination nowadays and there aren’t that many tourists interested in an old mine, especially given what it costs to get there. Cheaper to go to Denali. Mostly we just try to discourage kids going up there and getting their necks broke. I can’t think why—well, come on, I’ll show you.”
He led them down the hall to his office, one entire wall of which was given over to a densely detailed map of t
he Park. The northern border nearly touched the ceiling, Prince William Sound the floor, and the Canadian border in the east and the Alaska Railroad in the west each almost stretched to the adjacent walls.
“Hey. New map. What’s the scale on this thing, one to one?” Kate looked for and found her homestead, a tiny square of green a little south and east of the center of the Park. On the key red was for towns, blue for bits inside the Park given over to the US Forest Service, green meant private holdings.
“Not quite,” Dan said proudly. “This the gummint did pay for. I insisted, as the other one was printed pre-ANCSA and falling apart to boot. So look here.” A stubby forefinger pointed at a map symbol of a rock hammer crossed with a pick axe. “There’s the Kanuyaq Mine. What do you want to know about it? I mean, jesus, that you don’t already know, seeing’s your people have been living here for how long?”
She stared at the square above the cracked fingernail. It was bigger than the one for her homestead, but it was green, too. “Dan…”
“What?”
“Why is that square green?” She pointed at the key. “Green means the space is privately owned.”
He brought his reading glasses down from on top of his head and squinted through them. “Oh yeah. Sure, I forgot. When they did the new map they updated all the inholdings in the Park, too.”
“But it’s green. That means it’s privately owned.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Well, yeah, Kate, but just the mine proper.” She looked blank and he elaborated. “That’s the original mine’s footprint. It’s always been privately held. Just like your homestead, it was grandfathered in when the Park was created.”
Kate stared at the green square. “It’s a lot bigger than my homestead.”
“Five miles square, I think.”
“Twenty-five square miles of private property smack in the middle of the Park,” Kate said, still staring at the map. “How did I not know this?”
It was Jim who asked the more relevant question. “If the nation doesn’t own the Kanuyaq Mine, who does?”
The chief ranger scratched his head. “I don’t know. I know there is some kind of agreement between the Park Service and the owners. I think we pay them a nominal fee and in return we’re allowed to sell permits to operators to run tourists over the place. There’s never been very many of them. I’ve been a little worried that with the Suulutaq mine that the state would improve the road and they’d start bringing them in by the busload.”
Less Than a Treason (Kate Shugak Book 21) Page 18
