Northern Lights

I've got an awful need for this, too. That's not heroic."
    "Oh, you're so wrong." Her heart was lost. In that one moment it simply slid out and dropped at his feet. "Heroism's just doing more than you want to do or think you can. Sometimes it's just doing the crappy things, the unhappy things other people won't do."
    She stepped closer, cupped his face in her hands. "It's not just jumping out of a plane onto a glacier ten thousand feet up because there's nobody else there to do it. It's getting out of bed in the morning when it seems like too much trouble."
    Emotion swirled into his eyes, and he lowered his cheek to the top of her head. "I'm so in love with you, Meg."
    Then he kissed her hair, straightened. "I need to go out. I want to check the river, patrol before I turn in."
    "Can a civilian and her dogs do a ride-along on that?"
    "Yeah." He ruffled a hand over her damp hair. "Dry your hair first."
    "Will you tell me what you know, about Yukon?"
    "I'll tell you what I can."

 
     
     
     
    TWENTY-FOUR
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    HE WENT BACK to the scene of the crime in the early morning drizzle. Ten steps from the door, Nate thought. Left in plain view of anyone who might have come in or gone out of Town Hall. Plain view of anyone driving by, walking by.
    More than left, he amended. Executed in plain view.
    He walked inside, through to the meeting center. He'd ordered everything left as it was.The folding chairs, the big projection screen remained in place. He brought it back, into his head, the way it had been the night before.
    He'd come in a little late, just before the lights had gone down. He'd scanned the crowd as much out of habit as looking for Meg.
    Rose and David had been in the last row. Her first night out since the baby. They'd been holding hands. He remembered seeing them both at intermission—with Rose on the phone, probably checking with her mother, who was home watching the kids.
    Bing had been near the back. Nate had ignored the flask he'd held between his knees. Deb and Harry, The Professor. A small clump of high schoolers, the entire Riggs family, who lived in a log cabin out past Rancor Woods.
    He'd estimate that half the population had been there—which meant half hadn't. Some had left at intermission. Any of those who'd stayed might have slipped out and in again.
    In the dark, while attention was focused on the screen.
    He walked back to the lobby when he heard the outer door open and watched Hopp shove back her hood.
    "Saw your car parked outside. I don't know what to think about this, Ignatious. I can't put two thoughts together about it."
    She lifted her hands, let them drop again. "I'm going to go over and see Lara. Don't know what I'll say. This is such a crazy thing. Mean and crazy."
    "I'll go with mean."
    "But not crazy? Somebody carves up a harmless dog outside Town Hall, and that's not crazy?"
    "Depends on why."
    Her mouth flattened at that. "I can't see any why to it. Couple of people are saying we've got a cult, high school kids experimenting or some such thing. I don't believe that for one minute."
    "It wasn't ritualistic."
    "Others think it's some loony, camped out near town. Maybe it's a comfort believing none of us could have done such an awful thing, but I don't know that it makes me feel any better to think we've got a crazy lurking around who'd kill a dog that way."
    She studied his face. "You don't think that."
    "No, I don't think that."
    "Are you going to tell me what you do think?"
    "I think when somebody kills a local dog, in the middle of town, in front of a building where a good half of that town's sitting, he's got his reasons."
    "Which are?"
    "I'm working on it."
     
     
    HE DROVE ALONG THE RIVER before heading to the station. It was a sulky gray today, with those plates and chunks of floating ice dull on its surface.
    Meg's plane was gone, a clear symbol that he couldn't box her up somewhere safe and close. Bing and a two-man crew were patching a section of road. Bing's only acknowledgment as Nate slowed to pass was a long, steady stare.
    He drove to the station to find Peach urging coffee on Joe and Lara. Peter stood by looking very much like a grown man struggling not to cry.
    Lara, her eyes swollen and beet red, sprang up the instant Nate stepped into the room.
    "I want to know what you're doing about Yukon. What are you doing to find the bastard who killed my dog?"
    "Now, Lara."
    "Don't 'Now, Lara' me," she said, whirling on her husband. "I want to