Northern Lights

birds. But you can't resist being a little fancy, giving them an elbow in the ribs. So you mimic your first murder by shoving the knife in the dog's chest."
    He got up, poured coffee for both of them. "Now, it could be you're so fucking arrogant and full of yourself that you use your own knife, your own gloves. Strong possibility when you profile Bing Karlovski. Or you're so clever, so full of yourself, you plant them so the finger points elsewhere. If that's the case, why Bing? Where's he connect?"
    "I swear I don't know. I'm trying to get all this into my head. Maybe it doesn't have to connect. Bing's ornery. He irritates people. Or there was just an easy chance to steal the knife."
    "None of it's chance. Not this time. We need to find out where Bing was—exactly where he was in February of 1988."
    "How?"
    Nate sipped his coffee. "For a start, I'm going to ask him. Meanwhile I want statements from everyone who was at movie night, and everyone who wasn't. That's going to take time. You tell Peach to make a list that divides the township and outlying into three parts. We'll each take one."
    "I'll tell her right now."
    "Peter?" Nate stopped him at the door. "Weren't you scheduled to work last night? To cover the desk?"
    "Yeah, but Otto said he didn't feel like going to the movies so we switched. That's okay, isn't it?"
    "Sure." Nate sipped his coffee again. "That's fine. Go ahead and get Peach started on that list."
    Nate crossed to the board and drew lines connecting Joe and Lara Wise with Max and with Bing.
    "Nate?" Peach peeked in. "You still want me to hold things out here?"
    "No, whatcha got?"
    "Had a report of gunfire and a bear sighting. Same people who reported the dead body that was a pair of boots. I gave both of them to Otto, since he was already out on patrol. Gunfire was Dex Trilby's truck, which is older than I am, backfiring."
    "And the bear was what, a squirrel standing on a log?"
    "No, the bear was a bear. Those idiot Outsiders put up a bunch of bird feeders around the cabin, draw the birds in. Well, a bear can't resist fresh bird feed. Otto ran it off, and made them take down the feeders. He's a little irritable after having to go out there twice already today. So if something else comes in, I thought I'd hand it off to you or Peter."
    "You do that."
    "Well, then, Carrie Hawbaker just came in and wants to see you. She wants me to give her the items for the police log."
    "Good, go ahead. I guess we'll have The Lunatic up and running again."
    "Looks that way. She says she wants the official statement on what happened last night for the paper. Do you want me to take care of it?"
    "No." He flipped the blanket over his board. "Send her on back."
    She looked better than the last time he'd seen her. Steadier and not quite so sunken around the eyes. "Thanks for seeing me."
    "How are you doing?" he asked and closed the door.
    "Getting through, getting by. It helps to have the kids—they need me—and the paper." She took the chair he offered and set the canvas briefcase she carried on her lap. "I'm not just here about the items for the police log. Though, God, it's an awful thing about Yukon."
    "It is."
    "Well. I know you wanted me to think about back when Pat disappeared. To write down details. I did some." She opened the bag to take sheets of paper. "I thought I'd remember it all. I thought everything would just coming flooding back. But it didn't."
    Nate saw the papers were neatly typed and written in a formal outline style. "It looks like you remembered plenty."
    "I put down everything. A lot of things that couldn't matter. It was long ago, and I have to admit now that I didn't pay much attention to Pat's leaving. I was teaching, and wondering how I was going to get through another winter—my second—here. I was thirty-one, and I'd missed my goal of being married by my thirtieth birthday."
    She smiled a little. "That was one of the reasons I'd come to Alaska in the first place. The ratio was in my favor. I remember feeling a little desperate, a little sorry for myself. And annoyed with Max because he hadn't asked me. That's why I remember—you'll see it written there— that he was gone a couple of weeks that winter. I think it was that February, I'm not absolutely sure. Days tend to freeze together in the winter, especially if you're alone."
    "Where did he tell you he was going?"
    "That I do remember, because I got snippy about it. He said he was going to Anchorage, down to Homer—a few weeks in