Northern Lights

hurry back to that pain and that beauty.
    Strange that I should stand here, where I so desperately wanted to be, and ache for what I left behind.
     
     
    NATE STUDIED THE PHOTOGRAPHS from the ice cave. There was nothing new to see, and as he'd studied them every spare moment for the last three days, he had every detail imprinted on his brain.
    He had a few stingy notes from the State Police. Weather permitting, they'd send up a forensics and recovery team within the next fortyeight hours. He knew they'd interviewed the three boys extensively, but most of what had been asked and answered he'd gotten through the grapevine rather than official channels.
    He wanted to set up a case board, but it wasn't his case.
    He wasn't going to be allowed to examine the cave, to sit in on the autopsy once the body was brought down. Any data passed to him would be at the investigation team's discretion.
    Maybe, once the body had been positively identified as Patrick Galloway, he'd have a little more edge. But he wasn't going to be in the loop.
    It surprised him how much he wanted to be. It had been a year since his juices had been stirred by a case. He wanted to work it. Maybe it was partially because Meg was connected, but for the most part it was the photographs. It was the man he saw in them.
    Frozen in that moment, seventeen years before. Preserved, and all those details of his death preserved with him. The dead had the answers, if you just knew where to look.
    Had he fought? Been taken by surprise? Had he known his killer? Killers?
    Why was he dead?
    He slid the file he'd started into a drawer when he heard the knock on his office door.
    Peach stuck her head in. "Deb caught a couple of kids shoplifting over at the store. Peter's free. You want him to go round them up?"
    "All right. Notify the parents, get them down here, too. What did they take?"
    "Tried to get some comic books, candy bars and a six-pack of Miller. Ought to know better. Deb's got an eye like a hawk. Jacob Itu's just come in. He'd like a minute, if you've got one."
    "Sure, send him back."
    Nate rose, wandered to his coffeemaker. Another hour of sunlight, he calculated, though what there was of it today was gloomy and dank. He looked out his window, picked out No Name, and studied it as he sipped his coffee.
    He turned when he heard Jacob approach. The man was an emblem for the classic Native Alaskan with his raw-boned face and dark, intense eyes. His hair was silvered, worn in a single braid. His boots were sturdy, his clothes work-rough, with a long brown vest over flannel and wool.
    Nate judged his age at somewhere on the high side of fifty, with a look of health and fitness, and ropy strength.
    "Mr. Itu." Nate gestured to a chair. "What can I do for you?"
    "Patrick Galloway was my friend."
    Nate nodded. "You want coffee?"
    "No. Thank you."
    "The body hasn't yet been recovered, examined or positively identified." Nate sat behind his desk. It was the same spiel he'd been giving everyone who'd come in or caught him on the street, at The Lodge, over the past couple of days. "The State Police are in charge of the investigation. They'll notify next-of-kin, officially, when the identification's verified."
    "Meg would not mistake her father."
    "No. I agree."
    "You can't leave justice to others."
    That had been his creed once. The creed that had sent both him and his partner into an alley in Baltimore.
    "It's not my case. It's not my jurisdiction or my province."
    "He was one of us, as his daughter is. You stood in front of the people of this place when you came and promised to do your duty to them."
    "I did. I will. I'm not letting it go, but I'm well down the feeding chain on this."
    Jacob stepped closer, his only movement since coming into the room. "When you were Outside, murder was your business."
    "It was. I'm not Outside anymore. Have you seen Meg?"
    "Yes. She's strong. She'll use her grief. She won't let it use her."
    As I do? Nate thought. But this man with his intense eyes and ruthlessly controlled anger couldn't see what was inside of him.
    "Tell me about Galloway. Who would he have gone climbing with?"
    "He'd know them."
    "Them?"
    "A winter climb on No Name would need at least three. He was reckless, impulsive, but he wouldn't have attempted it with less than three. He wouldn't have climbed with strangers. Or not only strangers." Jacob smiled slightly. "But he made friends easily."
    "And enemies?"
    "A man who has what others covet makes enemies."
    "What did