Northern Lights

than to—"
    "I want signs posted, like we did for overflow, but more so. Check at The Corner Store, see if they've got any more sign board. Either Peach or Peter needs to write them. Ah, 'No skating, thin ice.' "
    "It's not so much thin as—"
    "Otto, just go get me a half dozen signs."
    He grumbled, but he went. And Nate noticed Peach's lips were folded tight on a smile she was trying to suppress.
    "What?"
    "Nothing. Not a thing. I think it's a fine idea. Shows we've got concern for our citizenship, and order. But I think you could just write, 'Breakup, and steer clear.'"
    "Write whatever you think best. Just write it." He started through the station to head out the back and find what he could use for stakes. "And don't let Otto write it."
    When he was satisfied the signs were under way, he wrote and printed fliers off his computer and set out to distribute them.
    He pinned them up in the post office, the bank, the school, worked his way to The Lodge.
    There, Bing came over and read behind his shoulder—and snorted.
    Saying nothing, Nate read his own words.
     
    BREAKUP IN PROGRESS.
NO SKATING, WALKING OR OTHER ACTIVITIES
WILL BE PERMITTED ON THE RIVER,
BY ORDER OF THE LUNACY POLICE DEPARTMENT.
     
    "I spell something wrong, Bing?"
    "Nope. Just wonder who you think's stupid enough to go skating around on the river during breakup."
    "Same sort of person who jumps off a roof to see if he can fly after he's read a couple Superman comics. How long does breakup take?"
    "Depends, doesn't it? Winter started early, now spring's doing the same thing. So we'll just see. River breaks up every frigging year, so does the lake. Nothing new."
    "A kid goes out there fooling around, falls through the ice, we could be going to another memorial."
    Bing pursed his lips thoughtfully as Nate walked out again.
    He still had fliers in his hand when he saw movement behind the display window of The Lunatic.
    He crossed over, found the door was locked. Knocked.
    Carrie studied him through the glass a minute, then opened up.
    "Carrie. I'd like to post one of these in your window here."
    She took it, read it, then walked to her desk to get tape. "I'll put it up for you."
    "Appreciate it." He glanced around. "You here alone?"
    "Yes."
    He'd interviewed her twice since the memorial, and each time her thoughts and answers had been scattered and vague. He'd tried to give her time, but time was passing. "Have you been able to remember any more details from that February?"
    "I tried to think about it, write things down like you said, at home." She taped the flier, face-out on the glass. "I couldn't do it there. I couldn't seem to do it at my parents' when I took the kids down for a couple weeks. I don't know why. I just couldn't get the thoughts out or the words down. So I came here. I thought maybe . . ."
    "That's fine."
    "I wasn't sure I could come here. I know Hopp and some of the other women came in and . . . cleaned up after—when they were allowed to, but I wasn't sure I could come back here."
    "It's hard." He'd gone back to the alley, forced himself to go back. And all he'd felt was numb despair.
    "I had to come back. There hasn't been a paper since . . . it's been too long. Max worked so hard, and this meant so much to him."
    She turned around, drawing careful breaths as she looked around the room. "Doesn't look like anything really. Doesn't even look like a real paper. Max and I went to Anchorage, Fairbanks, even Juneau, to tour a real paper, real newsrooms. His eyes would just light up. Doesn't look like much here, but he was proud of it."
    "I don't agree with you. I think it looks like a lot."
    She struggled to smile, nodded briskly. "I'm going to keep it going. That's something I decided today. Just today before you came in. I thought I'd let it go, that I just couldn't do this without him. But when I came back here today, I knew I had to keep it going. I'm going to put an edition together, see if The Professor's got time to help me, maybe knows a couple of kids who want to work, get some journalist experience."
    "That's good, Carrie. I'm glad to hear it."
    "I'll write something down for you, Nate, I promise. I'll think back and I'll try to remember. I know you wanted to go through his papers and such. I haven't been back there yet."
    She didn't have to look at the back office for Nate to know she meant the room where Max had been found.
    "You can, if you want."
    The State cops had been through that room, Nate thought. He still wanted