He was referring to the Alaska State Troopers’ seven-step duty posts. The more rural the post, the higher the pay. The higher the pay when a trooper retired, the bigger the pension. “Not planning on retiring anytime soon,” Jim said, and wondered if that were true.
“You just like the village life, then.”
A faint shrug. “This village, yeah.”
Campbell raised an eyebrow. “Hear tell there might be another reason.”
“There might.” Jim did not elaborate.
“Never took you for a one-woman man.”
Jim shrugged and returned no answer.
Another silence. Campbell started to fidget in his chair, and thought better of it. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you.”
“Any reason I should?”
Campbell looked past Jim, at the impenetrable cluster of spruce trees crowding in at the window. “It’s not like I don’t know I screwed up.”
“Five people dying because you were asleep at the switch constitutes a little more than screwing up in my book,” Jim said.
“That was six, almost seven years ago now,” Campbell said, his voice level. “Maybe time to let that go.”
“Like you have?”
Campbell met Jim’s eyes squarely. “Not an option for me.”
A third silence. Jim took a long breath, held it for a few moments, and then let it out slowly. “What the hell happened?”
Liam told him. He spoke simply, in words devoid of emotion, but the obvious determination to remain matter-of-fact told its own tale. “There’s no excuse, Jim,” he said. “I just wasn’t paying attention. I fucked up, and five people died.”
“You’re right, you did,” Jim said. A pause. He sighed. “But so did they. They drove down an unmaintained road in February, out of cell range, with no arctic gear, and didn’t tell anyone where they were going.” His mouth twisted. “A friend of mine calls it suicide by Alaska. Usually it’s Outsiders with no clue. But sometimes…”
Campbell was silent.
“I should have asked before,” Jim said. “I’m sorry.”
“You tried,” Campbell said. “I wasn’t real… receptive.”
They were men. That was as sentimental as it was going to get.
Jim leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “Newenham. Lot of big cases, all closed pretty decisively, and all of them on film at ten, too. Been an interesting post for you.”
Campbell’s expression lightened at the relaxation of tension in the room. “You could say that.”
“And I see you’re already back up to sergeant.”
“Yeah.”
“Fast tracker.” Jim smiled for the first time. “Good work on Gheen.”
Campbell shrugged. “He finally kidnapped the wrong woman. She escaped and led him right to us.” A shadow passed across his face. “And getting him didn’t come for free.”
“Heard that, too. Still.”
Liam nodded. “Still.”
“Heard you didn’t even have to go to trial.”
Liam shook his head. “Oh, he wanted to tell us all about it. Whether we wanted to hear it or not.”
Jim smiled. “A full confession, plus enough probative evidence to slam-dunk a jury full of card-carrying ACLU members, might make some practicing law enforcement professionals think they’d died and gone to heaven.”
“When the perp, tail wagging, led them to the grave of his tenth vic, where was found not only her skeleton but also the skeleton of her unborn child, some practicing law enforcement professionals might think otherwise. I’m just glad it didn’t come to that.”
Their eyes met in perfect understanding. By profession, their noses rubbed in the worst of human behavior every day of their working lives, they were de facto unshockable. People behaved badly. It’s why there were cops. But Jim and Liam wouldn’t have been human if the criminal, conscienceless inventiveness of certain deeply bent individuals had not, in fact, deeply shocked them on occasion.
Campbell settled back into his chair. “I’ve got a problem.”
“Figured. A big one, too.” He saw Campbell’s look and shrugged. “Had to be something big to get you on a plane all the way out here.” Jim crossed his feet on his desk and laced his fingers behind his head. “I grant you full and free access to the wisdom of your elder and better.”
Campbell didn’t smile. “I caught a murder.” He paused. “I think.”
“Interesting,” Jim said.
Campbell’s laugh was explosive. “That’s one word for it. I could use some help on it.”
“I thought you had help. Didn’t Barton send Prince down there?”
Campbell’s brows came together. “He did.”
“And she can’t help you?”
“No,” Campbell said.
“Why not?”
Campbell’s lips tightened. “Because she ran off with my father.”
When Jim stopped laughing, he saw that Campbell was regarding him with a marginally lighter countenance. “Yeah, very funny.”
“Clearly, it is,” Jim said, wiping an eye. “USAF Colonel Charles Campbell, trooper thief. Who’d a thunk it.”
“Anybody who knew him for more than five minutes,” Campbell said.
“Wouldn’t have thought it of Prince, though.”
“No,” Campbell said glumly, “but all bets are off when it comes to my father and women. But about this case.”
Jim frowned. There was something else, other than perfidious fathers absconding with faithless sidekicks. “What about it?”
“If I were investigating this officially,” Campbell said, his voice bleak, “my prime suspect would be my wife.”
A TAINT IN THE BLOOD
Copyright © 2004 by Dana Stabenow.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2004046856
ISBN: 978-1-4299-0918-1
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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