Northern Lights

wound. And unlike Jim's babbling statement, the insult to the face was minor. The bullet had left a relatively neat hole before it entered the brain and bounced around gleefully, like a pinball hitting top score.
    Dead, most likely, before his head had hit the desk.
    Noting the swirling pattern of color from the screen saver, Nate drew a pen out of his pocket and moved in close enough to tap the mouse.
    The document sprang on-screen.
    His eyes narrowed as he read it, stayed narrowed as he looked down at the body of the man who claimed to have killed Patrick Galloway.
    He moved back to the doorway, then signaled for Otto to wait when the deputy rushed in the front. Nate walked to Carrie, and like John, crouched down.
    "Carrie."
    "Max. Max." She raised red, horrified eyes to his. "Max is dead. Somebody—"
    "I know. I'm so sorry." He clasped his hands over hers. "I'm going to help him now. I need you to go over to the station and wait for me."
    "But Max. I can't leave Max."
    "You can leave him with me. I'm going to take care of him. John's going to help you get into your coat. And in a minute, he and Otto will take you over. I'm going to be there as soon as I can. So you go over there, and you wait for me."
    She stared dully, shock still glazing her eyes. "Wait for you."
    "That's right." She'd do what he said. The shock and the horror would make her obedient. For a while. "Otto?"
    He rose, moved toward the back again.
    "Merciful God," Otto said under his breath.
    "I need you to take both of them over. Jim's still there?"
    "Yeah." He swallowed audibly. "Jesus, chief."
    "Keep them there, and keep them separated. Let Peach take care of Carrie for now. I want you to call Peter in, tell him to come straight here."
    "I'm here now. Peter can ride herd over at the station while—"
    "I need you to start taking statements. You'll handle that better than Peter. Start with Jim. I want the doctor here, too. You get in touch with Ken and tell him to come straight here. I want him standing in. I don't want any mistakes on this, and I want it kept quiet until we have this scene secured and the statements on file. Use a tape recorder. Get the time and the date on it and take notes as a backup. Keep everyone there, everyone in separate places until I get back. You got that?"
    "Yeah." He swiped a hand over his mouth. "Why the hell would Max kill himself ? That's what it is, isn't it? Suicide?"
    "Let's work the scene and the witnesses, Otto. Let's take it a step at a time."
    When he was alone, he picked up the camera Otto had brought in to record the scene. He went through one pack of film, reloaded, and shot a second.
    Then taking out a notebook, he wrote down details. The fact that the rear door was unlocked, the make and caliber of the gun, the exact wording of the note on-screen. He did a rough sketch of the room, adding in the position of the body, the gun, the lamp, the bottle of whiskey and the single mug.
    He had on his gloves and was sniffing at both bottle and mug when Peter came in.
    "Take the crime scene tape, Peter. I want you to use it on the front and back doors."
    "I got here as soon as I could—" Otto broke off when he reached the doorway.
    When his skin tinged with green, Nate snapped at him. "You don't get sick in here. You have to puke, you do it outside and take that tape with you."
    Peter angled his body away, looked hard at the wall and breathed through his mouth. "Otto said Max killed himself, but I didn't think—"
    "We haven't determined that. What we have determined is Max is dead. Right now, this is a crime scene, and I want it secured. Nobody gets in here but the doctor. Clear?"
    "Yes, sir." Peter fumbled the yellow tape out of the box Otto had thrown together and staggered back outside.
    "State boys are going to want you, Max," he murmured. "It looks like you're going to tie things up for them, with a fucking bow on top. Maybe that's just what you did. But I'm not a big believer in bows."
    He walked out and, with his hands still gloved, called Sergeant Coben in Anchorage.
    "I'm not leaving this body sitting here until you can fly in from Anchorage," he said after he'd given Coben the essentials. "You've run me by now. You know I'm qualified. I've secured and recorded the scene, and I've got a doctor on the way in. I'm gathering the evidence and having the body moved to the clinic. Everything I've got's at your disposal once you get here."
    He waved Ken inside when the doctor came to the door. "And I expect