A deeper sleep by Dana Stabenow Page B
Authors: Dana Stabenow
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Political, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery And Suspense Fiction, alaska, Crime thriller, Shugak; Kate (Fictitious character), Women private investigators - Alaska, Suspense & Thriller, 19th century fiction, Indians of North America - Alaska
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house.
Kate was there before him. Naturally whoever called would have called her first. Jim had been working late at the post, so he got the news second. Another state trooper might have been annoyed by this assignment of second-class law enforcement status, but he was past protesting it.
Billy Mike, who would have been the third call anyone made, was standing behind Kate, who sat cross-legged on the ground a few feet away from the foot of the stairs. Like the shocked, staring crowd in back of them, no one was talking.
Even though he'd been told on the phone, years of on-the-job experience were all that kept Jim moving forward at a steady, deliberate pace. His hand was sweating on the handle of the suitcase. He halted beside Billy and set the suitcase down as quietly as possible before it slipped from his hand.
Bernie was sitting on the steps between his slain wife and son. Enid and Fitz were too far apart and the stairs too steep for Bernie to pull them both into his arms. His legs were braced against different steps and his arms were outspread, one fist knotted in his wife's shirt, the other in his son's, as if by main force he could pull them back from death. He was rocking slightly back and forth, his face turned up to an indifferent heaven, his mouth open in a soundless cry.
There was a sound from the doorway, and Jim looked up to see the outline of a kid crouched there. "Oh Christ," he said beneath his breath. "Kate," he said, and had to repeat her name before she would look around. He nodded at the French doors, one of them shattered, at the white face peering through them.
She drew in a sharp breath, shot to her feet, and started forward involuntarily.
"Not that way," Jim said. "Go around to the back door. Try not to go inside."
She halted as if she'd run into a wall.
"It's a crime scene," he said, as gently as he could. "Go around to the back door. Try not to go inside, but get him out."
She nodded, all her attention fixed on the face behind the French doors.
She went around the back almost at a run. A moment later, Jim could hear her voice. The face in the door wavered and then disappeared, and moments later Kate reappeared, a protective arm around Johnny Morgan's shoulders, a Johnny who was white as a sheet and very shaky on his feet.
Fitz. And Johnny. Lab partners.
Jim looked for Van and didn't see her.
Kate whispered something in Johnny's ear, and he nodded and whispered something back. Kate nodded and squeezed his shoulder and gave him a nudge toward Annie Mike, who welcomed him with open arms. He looked around and said something inaudible to Annie, and Jim heard Annie say, "She's all right, Johnny. She's at home, minding the baby for me."
He said something to Kate. She was clearly startled, and asked him a question. He nodded, white but resolute. She looked over at Jim and then back at Johnny and said something else. The boy nodded again, looking suddenly, infinitely weary. His face crumpled, and he leaned his forehead into Annie's plump shoulder so no one could see him crying.
Kate said something to Annie. Annie looked at Jim and pointed toward the parking lot of the Roadhouse before leading Johnny away. A minute later Jim heard the sound of a truck door opening and closing again. An engine started.
Kate came to stand next to Jim. "They'll wait for you in my truck."
"Where are the rest of the kids?" he said.
Bernie and Enid had three total. Fitz was, or had been, the eldest. "Annie's got them at her house."
"Good. Johnny okay?"
"Yeah. But he wants to talk to you." She looked up to meet Jim's eyes. "He says he saw who did it."
Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Shit."
"Not a name," she said. "A description."
"Shit," Jim said again, with even more feeling.
"First things first," Kate said. She walked steadily forward to stand behind Bernie. She let one hand settle gently on his
Kate was there before him. Naturally whoever called would have called her first. Jim had been working late at the post, so he got the news second. Another state trooper might have been annoyed by this assignment of second-class law enforcement status, but he was past protesting it.
Billy Mike, who would have been the third call anyone made, was standing behind Kate, who sat cross-legged on the ground a few feet away from the foot of the stairs. Like the shocked, staring crowd in back of them, no one was talking.
Even though he'd been told on the phone, years of on-the-job experience were all that kept Jim moving forward at a steady, deliberate pace. His hand was sweating on the handle of the suitcase. He halted beside Billy and set the suitcase down as quietly as possible before it slipped from his hand.
Bernie was sitting on the steps between his slain wife and son. Enid and Fitz were too far apart and the stairs too steep for Bernie to pull them both into his arms. His legs were braced against different steps and his arms were outspread, one fist knotted in his wife's shirt, the other in his son's, as if by main force he could pull them back from death. He was rocking slightly back and forth, his face turned up to an indifferent heaven, his mouth open in a soundless cry.
There was a sound from the doorway, and Jim looked up to see the outline of a kid crouched there. "Oh Christ," he said beneath his breath. "Kate," he said, and had to repeat her name before she would look around. He nodded at the French doors, one of them shattered, at the white face peering through them.
She drew in a sharp breath, shot to her feet, and started forward involuntarily.
"Not that way," Jim said. "Go around to the back door. Try not to go inside."
She halted as if she'd run into a wall.
"It's a crime scene," he said, as gently as he could. "Go around to the back door. Try not to go inside, but get him out."
She nodded, all her attention fixed on the face behind the French doors.
She went around the back almost at a run. A moment later, Jim could hear her voice. The face in the door wavered and then disappeared, and moments later Kate reappeared, a protective arm around Johnny Morgan's shoulders, a Johnny who was white as a sheet and very shaky on his feet.
Fitz. And Johnny. Lab partners.
Jim looked for Van and didn't see her.
Kate whispered something in Johnny's ear, and he nodded and whispered something back. Kate nodded and squeezed his shoulder and gave him a nudge toward Annie Mike, who welcomed him with open arms. He looked around and said something inaudible to Annie, and Jim heard Annie say, "She's all right, Johnny. She's at home, minding the baby for me."
He said something to Kate. She was clearly startled, and asked him a question. He nodded, white but resolute. She looked over at Jim and then back at Johnny and said something else. The boy nodded again, looking suddenly, infinitely weary. His face crumpled, and he leaned his forehead into Annie's plump shoulder so no one could see him crying.
Kate said something to Annie. Annie looked at Jim and pointed toward the parking lot of the Roadhouse before leading Johnny away. A minute later Jim heard the sound of a truck door opening and closing again. An engine started.
Kate came to stand next to Jim. "They'll wait for you in my truck."
"Where are the rest of the kids?" he said.
Bernie and Enid had three total. Fitz was, or had been, the eldest. "Annie's got them at her house."
"Good. Johnny okay?"
"Yeah. But he wants to talk to you." She looked up to meet Jim's eyes. "He says he saw who did it."
Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Shit."
"Not a name," she said. "A description."
"Shit," Jim said again, with even more feeling.
"First things first," Kate said. She walked steadily forward to stand behind Bernie. She let one hand settle gently on his
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