Dana Stabenow: Fire And Ice

Moses finished changing clothes and in the process from sifu back into shaman. "He might not even have meant to kill DeCreft. He might have just wanted to scare him. Maybe let DeCreft know that Wolfe knew DeCreft was spotting for two."

"I suppose that's possible," Liam said, reluctant to concede Wolfe even a negative virtue.

"Doesn't matter what he meant." Moses cocked an eyebrow. "Could have killed Wy as easy as Bob." He stared hard at the horizon before delivering judgment. "In a way, you could say Cecil killed himself. He set the process in motion-he bribed Gruber to sabotage the plane, DeCreft gets killed, Cecil takes advantage of his death to rape Laura, Becky finds out and kills him. Yeah, you could say he killed himself."

You could, Liam thought, if you ignored the fact that Wy and DeCreft had been double-crossing Wolfe to begin with. "Anyway, Gruber had been on Wolfe's payroll for a long time. I had them pull Gruber's account for the last couple of years. When he first came to Newenham to spot herring, he was spotting for Cecil."

Moses nodded. "Figures." They sat in silence for a moment. "So the way it looks, Gruber being in love with Laura Nanalook and all, Wolfe paid Gruber to do what he wanted to do anyway."

"It looks like it. They're both dead, so we'll never know the whole story."

"We won't miss 'em, either one of them."

From the tall white spruce across the road, a big black raven croaked agreement. Looking up at him, Liam thought he looked like the angel of death, shiny and black and so very well fed. "Three deaths the first week I'm in town," he said. "People are going to think I'm a blight on the community."

Moses grinned. "Sorry, boy, you just ain't that powerful. Or that important," he added with a bark of laughter.

Again the raven echoed him, with a sound eerily similar to Moses' rusty laugh: caw, caw, caw.

"That damn raven-what is he, your familiar or something?" Liam said irritably. "I see him everywhere you go."

"No you don't," Moses said testily, "you see him everywhere you go. He's not mine, he's yours."

"What?"

Moses got to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants. "He's yours. He looks to you. Poor bastard."

Liam didn't know who Moses was referring to, him or the raven.

Moses leveled an admonitory finger. "You watch out for him-he's a trickster, like all of his kind. He'll bring you the sun and the stars, but you give him a chance and he'll steal your woman away, too. Why didn't you kill him?"

"What?" Liam said, off balance. "Who? The raven?"

"The man who killed your wife. Why didn't you kill him?"

The shaman's eyes were bright and penetrating. Liam felt pinned to a board, with no means of escape but the truth.

Well, what was the truth? He wasn't sure he knew anymore, and he'd been there. "I suppose you mean when I arrested him, after he got out."

"Six months he did," Moses said. "For driving drunk and killing your son and putting your wife in the coma that eventually killed her. You must have been mad."

"Mad?" Liam turned the word over in his mind. "Mad? I don't know. I couldn't believe it when I pulled him over and ran his plates. I couldn't believe it was him. And then when I walked up to the car, and saw him. He knew it was me; he recognized me from the courtroom." He paused. "He started to cry, and beg." He looked at Moses. "He opened his door and fell out onto the road and crouched down on his knees, shivering and sobbing, snot running from his nose."

"And drunk," Moses said.

"And drunk," Liam said. "I wasn't mad, I was disgusted. I wanted to kill him, all right. I wanted to pull out my gun and put him out of his misery."

"He probably did, too," Moses said. "Better you didn't, though."

Liam looked at him. "Thanks, Moses," he said with real gratitude. "You're the first person to say that to me. Everybody else seems to think Dyson should have been shot while resisting arrest. You should see what it's like when I go into headquarters. There isn't a trooper I know who can look at me without contempt."

"Bullshit," Moses said bluntly. "You did what was right, for you, for Dyson. Even for Jenny and Charlie. Don't matter what anyone else thinks, boy, only you. And your shoulders are big enough to carry the load. So carry it."

The old man stamped off to his truck. The engine turned over and the window rolled down. "Remember," the old man shouted. "Raven'll steal your woman and everything else that matters along with her, but only if you let him."

He slammed the truck into first. "Don't let him!"

The truck lunged off down the road, leaving Liam sitting on the steps, staring up at the raven, eyes bright with malicious knowledge, beak sharp and polished, ebony feathers smooth and gleaming.

"So?" he said. "Mind telling me what I do now?"

It croaked at him.