Northern Lights

Town Hall and sliced his throat—having previously stolen the buck knife. That's a little too broad for me, Hopp."
    She took his arm so he'd stop. "Maybe because you'd rather believe otherwise. Maybe because believing otherwise is giving you something to get your teeth into. More than breaking up a few fights or keeping Drunk Mike from freezing his sorry ass. Did it ever occur to you that you're tying all this together, looking for a killer among us because you want it to be so?"
    "I don't want it to be so. It is so."
    "Damn stubborn . . ." She set her teeth, turned to the side until she controlled her temper. "Things won't settle down around here if you keep stirring them up."
     
     
    "Things shouldn't settle down around here until they're resolved. I've got to go write up my report on this."
     
     
    NATE SPENT THE NIGHT in the station, most of it listening to Spinnaker's earnest reports of his alien experiences. To keep him calm, if not quiet, Nate sat outside the cell, making notes.
    And was deeply thrilled to see the State Police arrive the next morning to relieve him of his prisoner.
    He was also surprised to see Coben on the detail.
    "Maybe you should consider renting a room down here, Sergeant."
    "I figured this would be an opportunity to touch base on other matters. If we could take a minute in your office."
    "Sure. I've got the paperwork on Spinnaker for you."
    He walked into his office, picked up the paperwork. "Assault with deadly on police officers, et cetera. The shrinks will soften that up, but it won't make my deputy any less shot."
    "How's he doing?"
    "He's okay. He's young, resilient. It caught him mostly in the meaty part of the arm."
    "Any time you walk away, it's a good day."
    "There's that."
    Coben walked over to the board. "Still pursuing this?"
    "Looks like."
    "Making any headway?"
    "Depends on where you're standing."
    Lips pursed, Coben rocked back on his heels. "Dead dog? You're linking that?"
    "Man's gotta have a hobby."
    "Look, I'm not fully satisfied with the resolution of my case, but I've got restrictions on me. A lot of it does depend on where you're standing. We can agree there was an unidentified third man on that mountain when Galloway was killed. Doesn't mean he killed Galloway or had knowledge thereof. Doesn't mean he's still alive, for that matter, as it's more logical that the individual who killed Galloway also disposed of this third man."
    "Not if the third man was Hawbaker."
    "We don't believe it was. But if it was," Coben continued, "it sure as hell doesn't mean this unidentified third man had anything to do with Hawbaker's death—or the death of some dog. I've got a little wiggle room, unofficially, to confirm the identity of the third man, but it's not taking me anywhere."
    "The pilot who took them up was killed in unexplained circumstances."
    "There's no proof of that. I've looked into it. Kijinski paid off some debts and made more during the period between Galloway's death and his own. So that's hinky, I'll give you that. But there's no one to confirm he took them up."
    "Because all but one of them's dead."
    "There are no records, no flight logs. No nothing. And nobody who knew Kijinski, or will admit to it, who remembers him booking that flight. He may very well have been the pilot, and if so, it's just as logical to assume Hawbaker disposed of him as well."
    "Might be logical. Except Max Hawbaker didn't kill three men. And he didn't come back from the grave and slit that dog's throat."
    "It doesn't matter what your gut tells you. I need something solid."
    "Give me time," Nate said.
    • • •
     
     
    TWO DAYS LATER, Meg strolled into the station, flipped a wave at Peach and went straight back to Nate's office.
    A glance at his board barely broke her stride. "Okay, cutie, I'm springing you."
    "Sorry?"
    "Even thoughtful, dedicated, hardworking cops get a day off. You're due."
    "Peter's on inactive. We're a man short."
    "And you're sitting here brooding about that and everything else. You need head-clearing time, Burke. If something comes up, we'll head back."
    "From where?"
    "It's a surprise. Peach," she called as she started back out. "Your boss is taking the rest of the day off. What do they call it on NYPD Blue? Personal time."
    "He could use some."
    "You can cover it, can't you, Otto?"
    "Meg—" Nate began.
    "Peach, when's the last time the chief took a day off ?"
    "Three weeks, a little more, by my recollection."
    "Head-clearing time, chief." Meg grabbed his