"Very clear," Liam said.
"Fine," she said. "Now where the hell am I going to find me a spotter?"
"Beats the hell out of me," Liam said, hoping she wouldn't find one in time.
"I'll go up with you, Wy."
Both adults turned to see Tim standing in the doorway. An empty Coke can dangled from one hand.
"Like hell you will," Liam said before he thought.
Wy glared at Liam. "Back off, this is my business." She turned to Tim. "Like hell you will."
"Why not?" Tim said. "I've been herring fishing before, on one of my uncle's boats. I haven't seen herring from the air, but I've spotted them balling up from the crow's nest. I know what to look for."
"Wy," Liam said. "You can't."
"Why can't she?" Tim said. "She needs a spotter. I've spotted before. What, you gonna spot for her instead?"
Liam stared into the boy's defiant, challenging eyes. "Yes," he heard himself say. "Yes, I am."
TEN
The ring of the phone woke him the next morning. He groaned and rolled out of the sleeping bag Wy had lent him and onto the cold, hard, not entirely clean office floor. The phone rang again, insistent. He reached up with one hand and fumbled around until he found the receiver. "Hello?" Shivering, he slid back inside the plaid lining and tried to generate a little body heat. "Oh. Hello, John."
"There's no easy way to put this, Liam," John said, wasting no time on politesse. "Wy needs money, and she needs it bad. She's running a tab with everyone-Chevron, NC, she took out a second mortgage on her business, which payments have been late a time or two. No wonder she decided to spot herring."
Liam was wide awake now. He said, "Did you find out why?"
"She's up to her ears in a court case, has been for a year. She's trying to adopt a kid. Did you know that?"
"I've met him."
"Jesus, Liam, did you know the kid's mother accused Wy of kidnapping?"
Liam sat up, sleeping bag falling away. "No, I didn't know that."
"She filed a complaint about nine months ago."
"What?" Liam tried to sort this out. "Only nine months ago? I don't get it. Wy's had him for two years."
With awful irony, Barton said, "Apparently it took that long for Mom to notice the kid was gone."
"Shit," Liam muttered.
"My sentiments exactly."
Liam ran rough hands through his hair. "How did you get all this stuff so quick? I figured it'd take you a couple of days at least. At least until Monday, when the state courts opened back up for business anyway."
"Deb-you remember Deb, my very own personal ferret-she called in a favor at TRW. Right away she picked up on all the checks Wy was writing to an attorney. She went over to the courthouse yesterday afternoon with a buddy of hers, who just happens to be one of the clerks of the court, and they dug up the case. The tapes had just been transcribed, and I spent last night reading them." John snorted. "Hamilton-Theodore Hamilton, you remember him, he presided over the Murdy murder trial-anyway, Hamilton seemed to actually have a clue, that day anyway, so he didn't give the kid back. But the bleeding heart bastard gave the mom a chance to dry out and straighten up her act." Barton snorted contemptuously. "So now Wy is suing for the severance of parental rights and full custody. It's costing her. It's costing her a bundle. And she's not doing real well at keeping up."
"I'll bet." Liam remembered the phone call from the night before. "Who's her attorney?"
"Abood. Harold Abood."
Harold. Harry. As in, Look, Harry, I'll get you the goddamn money just as soon as I get paid myself.
"Liam?" Barton said.
"What?"
Barton sighed, once, a deep, heavy, unhappy sigh. Blunt as he was, John Dillinger Barton took no pleasure in being the bearer of bad news. "The only person Wy doesn't owe is her mechanic. She's been paying his bills regularly every month."
"What's his name?"
"Fred Barnes, as in Fred's Fly-in and Fix-it Shop. He's in Newenham, close to the airport from the address."
There was a perfunctory knock on the door. It opened, and Wy stuck her head in. "It's six o'clock; come on, we've got to get in the air."
"Who's that?" Barton demanded.
"My pilot," Liam said. "Didn't I mention, John? I'm going herring spotting today."
He got to his feet, clad only in boxer shorts, and saw Wy's expression. He grinned at her. She reddened. "I'll wait for you outside," she said, and closed the door a little harder than necessary to make the latch catch.
Barton was sputtering into his ear. "Herring spotting? Are you out of your goddamn mind? You've got work to do-you don't have any goddamn time to go gallivanting off on some goddamn herring spotting excursion! Besides, you're liable to get yourself goddamn killed! Crazy goddamn bastard!"
Patiently, Liam waited for Barton to run out of steam, at least momentarily. "John, I don't have a clue as to what DeCreft was doing immediately prior to his death. I don't know anything about the herring fishing business or what spotting is like, except for what I read in the papers. If there were another trooper here, more knowledgeable about the lifestyle, I'd-why isn't there another trooper here?" he said in sudden realization. "In a town this size, there ought to be at least one other trooper, and a sergeant as well. What's going on? Why am I here all by myself?" Silence on the other end of the line. "John?"
Barton sighed. "Okay, look, I'll tell you, but this is strictly confidential. Did you ever stop to wonder why Corcoran would want to transfer out of a Bush post that pays seven steps above basic and into an urban post that pays only basic?"
"I haven't had time to wonder about anything except where I'm going to sleep from night to night," Liam said slowly. "Why?"
"Like I said, this is strictly on the QT. I wouldn't be telling you but for the fact that you might run into some of the fallout. He really fucked up an investigation down there. There was a local pharmacist who was trading drugs for sexual favors from teenage boys. Corcoran busted the guy, forgot to Mirandize him, and then roughed him up in sight of the perp's family and friends."
Liam remembered Darrell, and his fear of getting in the trooper's vehicle. Corcoran seemed to have made a habit of beating on the local populace. He grimaced inwardly. The job was hard enough without having to reinstill the trust in your office that your predecessor had so comprehensively abused. "How rough?"
"The guy wound up in the hospital." He paused. "And when he could, he walked."
"Jesus."
"Yeah. The community was not happy with Corcoran, or with us for posting him there. Corcoran pulled some other stunts, too, but that was the last one. That's why he's gone and you're there."
"Why am I here alone?" Liam thought about the size of the judicial district he would be responsible for, the villages scattered from Newenham to Newhalen, from Togiak to Ualik, from Kilbuck to Kaskank, and recoiled at the thought of how many hours in the air he'd be logging to do his job. "Why was Corcoran?"
There was another pause, followed by another sigh. "Corcoran got the last trooper assigned to his command pregnant. She resigned. We haven't been able to fill her place yet-no one wanted to work with Corcoran, seven-step-increase notwithstanding. It'll be different now."
"Yeah, I'll bet they'll just be lining up around the block to come work with me," Liam said, "the guy who was relieved of command and busted down for falling asleep on the job while a Native family of five froze to death in Denali Park. Did you ever think of that, John?"