Laurel was speaking again and Kate willed the sudden drumming from her ears so she could listen.

“I had him in here to do some fix-up stuff the contractor left behind.”

“When?”

Laurel thought. “We opened the first week of school, the first Tuesday after Labor Day. Everybody’s back from fishing by then, and Billy and I figured we’d get a boost from the teenagers coming in when classes let out.” She shrugged. “They don’t have anywhere else to go, and I make a pretty mean milkshake, if I do say so myself.”

“What did you have Dreyer do?”

“Oh, you know, the linoleum wasn’t completely glued down in one corner, they used flat paint instead of glossy on one wall of the bathroom, the garbage disposal wasn’t hooked up right. Like that. So I asked around and somebody recommended Len.” She sighed theatrically, hand on her heart. “There’s just something about a guy with a pipe wrench that does it for me. He had his head under the sink and he’d stripped down to his T-shirt, and he was kinda buff, you know? I, well, I guess I jumped him.” Her smile was a little shamefaced. “The troopers could probably run me in for assault.”

“So it was a one-time thing?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t that interested in more.” Her brow creased. “Funny, you know? I mean, it’s not like I’m Miss America or anything. But most Park rats wouldn’t turn me down. It’s supply and demand, you know?”

“I know,” Kate said.

₁₂

Well, now,“ Brendan said, grim satisfaction rolling out of Bobby’s receiver in waves, ”amazing what a name change will do for the database.“

“Why didn’t his fingerprints pop up on search?” Kate said, leaning into mike range.

The satisfaction changed to disgust. “We’re in the process of switching from paper fingerprint cards to electronic files, in order to sign on with the National Fingerprint File. I’m guessing your guy fell through the cracks.” A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Plus it’s the Feebs. I mean, jeeze, what’re ya gonna do. Listen, Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“You said this guy kept his head down in the Park?”

“So down he didn’t register on hardly anyone’s radar.”

Another pause. “Yeah. Well. His file ain’t pretty. Tell Bobby to check his e-mail.”

“Will do. And thanks, Brendan.”

A rich chuckle. “I’m adding it to the tab, Shugak. You keep getting me up in the middle of the night. I’m telling you, it’s costing you. Horizontally.”

She laughed. “Ooooh, you big bully, I’m scared now,” and knew enough to know that while 2 a.m. guaranteed few listeners there would always be at least one lonely trapper tuned in, and that the stories about Kate Shugak having radio sex with a member of the Anchorage law enforcement community would be circulating around the Park at first light and crossing the bar at the Roadhouse at opening time.

Brandon hung up and Bobby signed off. Fifteen minutes later, the file on one Leon Francis Duffy arrived in Bobby’s in box as an attached file. Kate, too impatient to wait for it to print out, opened it and started scrolling.

Dinah, elbowed to one side, accepted a mug of coffee from Jim and went to sprawl next to her husband on a couch. He grabbed her, heedless of her mug, and whispered in a mock snarl, “When can we get rid of these yo-yos so’s you and me can get horizontal?”

She made a token effort to save the coffee and an even more desultory effort to repel boarders before giving up.

Jim pulled up a chair to read over Kate’s shoulder. He felt rather than saw her stiffen, and smiled to himself. The smile vanished when he realized that her reaction hadn’t been caused by his proximity but by what she was reading.

“Leon Francis Duffy, born in Madison, Wisconsin, graduated Mendota High School in June 1968, joined the army what looks like the week after. Served one tour in Vietnam and received an honorable discharge, which he took in Anchorage, Alaska. Why Anchorage, do you think?”

“Keep reading,” she said, tight-lipped.

He did so. “Oh. A year later he was working in the yard at Spenard Builder’s Supply, pulling down a regular paycheck, to all intents and purposes a model citizen, and then he gets arrested for molesting a twelve-year-old girl on the way home from school. Charges dismissed. Oh, crap. Two more arrests, one ten-year-old, another twelve-year-old.”

The printer spat out the last sheet and she thrust the bundle at him. “Here.”

He shuffled the paper into order. Kate remained where she was, arms folded, glaring at the screen. Jim continued to read out loud. “The third charge stuck, and Leon Francis Duffy was sentenced to eight and a half.” Jim flipped the page. “He was a model prisoner, served the minimum five and a half years for good behavior at Highland Mountain Correctional Facility, and… evidently disappeared from the public record after release.” Jim flipped another page. “His probation officer never heard from him even once. Imagine.”

“Imagine.”

He squinted down at the page. “See the note from the corrections officer he was assigned to?”

“I couldn’t read it on the screen,” Kate said. “Is it any clearer printed out?”

“ ‘I regard Mr. Duffy as one of two of the most dangerous prisoners in this facility to be released this year. Mr. Duffy has refused treatment for his condition, refused to accept counseling of any kind, and has never accepted responsibility for the actions that brought him to be incarcerated. If he is released, I am convinced he will go on to commit the same offense again.”“ Jim looked up. ”And they let him go anyway. Imagine.“

“Imagine. So he came to the Park.”

He looked at the rigid set of her spine and wisely offered no sympathy. “So it seems.”

“I never heard a hint, even a whisper that he was bent. I had him out on the homestead. He worked for me.”

“He worked for everybody.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve got good instincts, Jim.”

“The best in the business,” he said. “Listen, Kate. We’ve all got our blind spots. Mr. Fix-it was yours.”

“How much damage did he do here?”

Jim was too smart and too experienced to give the obvious answer. “Not much. It’s hard to hide that kind of thing in a small community. If he’d married, say a woman with children from a previous relationship, and if one of those children had been a girl, then I’d be seriously worried. But he didn’t.” He thought. “He could have been that one guy who was moving himself out of the reach of temptation.”

She rubbed at the scar on her neck. “You read the report. You saw what the officer said about Duffy’s attitude. It’s the classic Who, me? response of the sexual predator. And they don’t learn, and they don’t grow, and they don’t ever, ever change, and they never, never stop.”

“You would have heard,” he said. “I would have heard. Billy, Auntie Vi, Bernie, someone would have heard.”

“I sure as hell would have heard!” Bobby roared, causing them both to jump. His chair skidded to a halt and he glared impartially at both of them. Dinah, outlined against the gathering light outside the big windows in the creek-facing wall, came soft-footed up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jim said, “we all would have.” He looked at Kate. “And none of us did. Maybe he was that guy, Kate.”

“No,” she said. She moved finally, to save and close the file and swing around to face them. “Who was his corrections officer?”

Jim rifled through the stack. “Melinda Davis. You know her?”

“No. You?”

“No. We can call in the morning, see if she has anything to add.”

“No.” Kate got to her feet.

“No?” With him sitting and her standing she actually had the advantage of height on him. Not much, but a little. It made him want to pull her into his lap.

“No,” she repeated. “I’m going to Anchorage.”