Northern Lights

The weapon found on scene was his, duly registered. According to his wife it was one he most often kept in the glove compartment of his truck. For target shooting. There was no sign of struggle."
    "Poor Max." She grabbed another tissue, but rather than use it, just balled it in her fist. "What could have driven him to end his own life, to do that not just to himself, but his family?"
    "There was a note on his computer. It claimed he'd killed Patrick Galloway."
    "What?" The coffee she'd just lifted lapped at the top of the mug as she set it down again. "Ignatious, that's crazy. Max? That's just crazy."
    "He used to climb, didn't he? More fifteen, sixteen years ago than now?"
    "Well, yes. Yes. But half the people in town do or did some climbing." She laid the flat of her hands on the desk. "I will not believe that Max killed anyone."
    "You were prepared to believe he killed himself."
    "Because he's dead. Because everything I've heard points to it. But murder? That's nonsense."
    "There'll be tests run to verify the .22 in evidence was used. Fingerprints, powder residue. I'm going to tell you that I believe the tests will substantiate what appears to be a suicide, and that in all likelihood his death will be officially ruled same—just as the Galloway homicide will be closed."
    "I can't believe this."
    "I'm also going to tell you I'm not convinced."
    "Ignatious." She pressed her hand to her temple."You're confusing me."
    "Awfully neat, isn't it? A computer note? Anybody can tap a few keys. Guilt kills him after all these years? Well, he lived with it pretty well up to now. Carrie said he left her a note on his pillow whenever he decided to go into work late or early. A man does that, but he doesn't leave a personal note for her when he decides to kill himself ?"
    "You're saying . . ."
    "Easy to get a gun out of a glove compartment, if you know it's there.
    Not that hard to stage a suicide if you think it through and keep your blood cool."
    "You think . . . God, you think Max was murdered?"
    "I didn't say that, either. I said I'm not convinced this is what it looks like on the surface. So, if this is ruled a suicide and the Galloway case is closed before I am convinced, I'm going to keep looking into it. You're paying me, so you ought to know if I'm spending official time chasing a wild goose."
    She stared at him, then he heard her take another of those long, audible breaths. "What can I do to help?"
     
     
    SERGEANT ROLAND COBEN struck Nate as a solid cop, a twentyyear man with a lot of cases under his belt. He was about six feet, a little thick through the middle, a little tired around the eyes. He had a crisp white-blond crew cut, a regulation shine on his boots and a wad of cherry-scented gum in his mouth.
    He'd brought a two-man crime scene unit with him, and both officers were busy combing Max's office while Coben studied the photographs Nate had taken.
    "Who's been on this scene since the body was discovered?"
    "Me, the town doctor and one of my deputies. Before I let them in, I took the pictures, ran the outline, bagged evidence. Everyone gloved up. The scene's secure, sergeant."
    Coben looked over at the grease stains on the rug just inside the inner door. Nate had dutifully bagged the sandwiches as well. "That as far as the wife got?"
    "According to her and the two witnesses, yes. And no one but me touched anything but the body."
    Coben made some sound of assent and studied the note on the computer screen. "We'll take the computer with us, along with the evidence you gathered. Let's have a look at the body."
    Nate led him out the back.
    "Worked Homicide Outside, didn't you?"
    "I did."
    Coben climbed easily into Nate's four-wheel. "That's handy. Lost your partner, I hear."
    "That's right."
    "Took a couple of hits yourself."
    "I'm still standing."
    Coben dutifully hooked his seat belt. "A lot of medical leave, on and off, your last year with Baltimore."
    Nate leveled one quiet look. "I'm not on medical leave now."
    "Your lieutenant says you're a good cop and maybe you lost some of your edge, some of your confidence, after your partner went down. Turned in your badge down there last fall and broke off with the department shrink."
    Nate stopped in front of the clinic. "You ever lose a partner?"
    "No." Coben waited a minute. "But I've lost a couple of friends, line of duty. Just trying to get a feel for you, Chief Burke. City cop from Outside, one with your experience, might get his back up when he has to pass a