A Cold Day for Murder Read Online Free

busied himself with the starter on the engine, and Gamble repeated, “Morgan. Where did she get that scar?”
    The other man sighed, and said flatly, “In a knife fight with a child molester.”
    Gamble stared at him. “Jesus Christ. That part of the story is true, then?”
    “Yeah.” The big man’s eyes were bleak.
    “Jesus Christ,” Gamble repeated. “What happened?”
    Jack unscrewed the gas cap and rocked the snow machine back and forth, peering inside the tank. “Somebody made an anonymous call to Family Services, reporting a father of five to be a habitual abuser of all five children. They called us. Kate went to check it out and caught him in the act with the four-year-old.”
    Gamble closed his eyes and shook his head. “You nail the perp?”
    Morgan unhooked the jerry can from the back of the machine and emptied it into the gas tank. “He’s dead.”
    Gamble’s sigh was long and drawn out. “Uh-huh.” He stared at the cabin. The sun was out by now, but he felt cold all the way through. “When did this happen?”
    “Fourteen months, thirteen days.” The big man thought for a moment, and added, “And seven hours ago.”
    Gamble stared at him. “You’re sure about the time frame?”
    The big man’s ruddy cheeks darkened a little. It could have been the cold. He didn’t answer.
    Gamble thought for a moment. “That would have been about the time she left the D.A.’s office.”
    “About.”
    “Disability?”
    “Nope. Quit.” Morgan replaced the gas cap and gave it a final twist. He raised his eyes to stare at the closed cabin door, before which Mutt sat, alert, motionless, looking at them with her ears up and her yellow eyes unblinking. “She walked out of the hospital the next day and tacked a letter of resignation to my door with the knife she took off the perp.”
    “Jesus Christ,” Gamble said for the third time.
    “Yeah,” Jack said. “Hell of a mess. His blood was still all over the blade.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Lousy crime scene inventory. APD should never have let her leave with it.” The big man looked steadily at the cabin, as if by sheer will his gaze would penetrate the walls and seek out the woman inside. “She used to sing.”
    Gamble maintained a hopeful silence. It was the first remark Morgan had made all day that Gamble hadn’t had to drag out of him.
    “She knows all the words to every high sea chantey ever written down,” Morgan said softly.
    Gamble waited, but Morgan said nothing more. He started the engine and they climbed on the snow machine. Over the noise of the engine Gamble shouted, “Well?”
    Morgan looked back at the cabin. “She’ll do it.”
    Gamble snorted.
    “She’ll do it,” the big man repeated. “Roll those snowsuit legs down or your feet’ll get frostbite. And next time for chrissake bring some goddam boots.” He pushed off with one foot and the machine began to slide forward.
    “It’s your call, Jack, but are you sure we shouldn’t find someone else to do this job?” Gamble persisted. “You sure she’ll look for them?”
    “I’m sure,” the big man said. His certainty did not sound as if it gave him any joy.
    · · ·
     
    Jerking awake at three the next morning, fleeing dark dreams of an endless procession of frightened, bleeding children begging her not to hurt their parents, Kate, sweating, trembling, swearing loudly to drown out the blood pounding in her ears, came to the same conclusion. The hauntings would continue no matter what she did; she knew that already. But for a time, perhaps, the ghosts would take on a different shape, mouth different words, stare accusingly for different reasons. It was enough.

Two
    The Park occupied twenty million acres, almost four times the size of Denali National Park but with less than one percent of the tourists. It was bordered on the north and east by the Quilak Mountains, a coastal range that wandered back and forth over the Alaska-Canada border and whose tallest peaks