Northern Lights

big case on to State authorities."
    "He might. And a State cop might not have the same investment in this town, and what goes on here, as its chief of police."
    "You haven't been chief very long." He stepped out of the car. "Maybe we both got a point. The department's been able to handle the press on The Ice Man—they just love to name these violent-crime victims."
    "Always do."
    "Well, they're holding the line on the media now, but that changes once the team brings him down. It's going to be big, fat news, Chief Burke. The sort the national media loves to cover. Now you've got the body of the man claiming to be his killer, and there's more news. Quicker we wrap this up, the better it is for everybody. The neater we wrap it, the better."
    Nate stayed on the opposite side of the car. "Are you worried about me going to the media, stirring up publicity for myself, for the town?"
    "Just a comment, that's all. There was a lot of press out of that shooting in Baltimore. A lot of it focused on you."
    Nate felt the heat rising in him, the long, slow simmer of anger that bubbled from gut to throat. "So you figure I must like seeing my name in print, seeing my face on TV, and a couple of dead men give me the opportunity to tune that up."
    "You could earn yourself some points, seems to me, if you're planning on going back to Baltimore."
    "Then it's pretty lucky for me that I happened to come here just in time for all this to go down."
    "Doesn't hurt to be in the right place at the right time."
    "Are you trying to provoke me, or are you just a natural asshole?"
    Coben's lips quirked. "Could be both. Mostly I'm just trying to get a feel for things."
    "Then let's clear this up. This is your investigation. That's procedure. But this is still my town; these are still my people. That's a fact. And whether or not you trust me, like me, or want to take me to dinner and a movie, I'm going to do my job."
    "Then we'd better take a look at the body."
    Coben headed inside, and fighting off temper, Nate followed.
    There was only one person in the waiting area. Bing looked embar
    rassed, then irritated to have been found sitting on one of the plastic chairs.
    "Bing," Nate said with a nod, and the man grunted before jerking the ancient copy of A laska in front of his face.
    "Doc's with a patient," Joanna said, giving Coben a good once-over. "Sal Cushaw cut her hand on a hacksaw, and he's stitching her up. She needs a tetanus shot, too."
    "We need the keys to the morgue," Nate told her, and her eyes darted between him and Coben.
    "Doc's got them, said nobody could go in there but you."
    "This is Sergeant Coben, with the State Police. Would you go get the keys?"
    "Sure. Okay."
    She scurried away just as Bing began to mutter. "Don't need no storm troopers in Lunacy. Take care of our own."
    Nate simply shook his head as Coben glanced over his shoulder. "Don't bother," he murmured.
    "You sick, Bing?" Nate leaned back on the counter. "Or just passing the time?"
    "My business is my business. Just like if a man wants to blow his head off, that's his business. Cops can't leave well enough alone."
    "You're right about that. We're just pains in the ass with badges. When's the last time you talked to Max?"
    "Never had much to say to him. Pip-squeak."
    "I heard he bitched at you about plowing in his driveway, so you plowed it out and dumped the snow on top of his car."
    Bing's grin spread in the mass of his beard. "Maybe. Don't think he blew his head off over it, though."
    "You're a mean bastard, Bing."
    "Damn right."
    "Chief ?" Joanna came back to the counter, held out the keys. "It's the one with the yellow mark. Doc said he'd come back as soon as he's finished with Sal."
    "Hey! I'm next in line here." Bing rattled his magazine. "Hawbaker's not going to get any deader."
    Joanna folded her lips. "You ought to have some respect, Bing."
    "What I got is hemorrhoids."
    "Tell the doc to finish with all his patients," Nate said. "Where is it?"
    "Oh, sorry. Straight back, then the first door on the left."
    They walked back in silence, and Nate used the key to unlock the door. They stepped into a room with a wall of metal shelves and two metal tables. Nate switched on the overhead and noted both tables were the style used for autopsies or funeral parlor prep rooms.
    "I'm told they use this as a part-time morgue. There's no funeral parlor in town, no undertaker. They bring one in when they need one, and he'll prep a body for burial here."
    He walked to the table