report from the same woman the day before he responded to the accident. Seeing her like that really shook him up. A lot to process for a twenty-four-year-old kid.”
Lola stared at the window, releasing a long sigh. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well,” Warr said, “we don’t get much play on the evening news. I think most folks in the big village of Anchorage would rather read about what’s going on in New York or Hollywood than be reminded of the shitload of deaths and dismemberments that occur in their own state.” He threw the Tahoe into park. “Sorry to get all gloomy on you.”
“No worries,” Lola said. “I’m sorry we had to show up on such a shitty day.”
Warr retrieved his hat, checked the brim to make sure it was still straight, and then snugged it on his head. “This stuff happens every day. If I had any hair, it would be on fire most of the time.” He nodded at the prisoner cage. “You’ll have to let your partner out. Doors don’t open from the inside.”
* * *
Lieutenant Warr punched the code into a mechanical cypher lock on the door. Cutter couldn’t help but notice the telltale numbers scratched into the dusty metal siding of the nondescript hangar in case someone forgot their code. The heavy steel door groaned in protest against the cold as Warr pushed it open, standing back so Cutter and Lola could carry in their bags.
Judge Markham and the others were already inside. Ms. Paisley stood near the nose of the state Cessna Caravan, chatting with a rosy-cheeked young woman who Cutter assumed to be Natalie Beck, the Stone Cross teacher who would be riding with them. Where everyone else in the room dressed in gear as if they’d outfitted themselves for a winter expedition at REI, Beck wore a serviceable combination of wool and fur. Military surplus pants were held up with suspenders and tucked into the top of insulated Muck boots. A black merino wool top, slightly frayed at the cuffs, hugged the curves of her torso. Two plastic Rubbermaid totes—quintessential bush-Alaska baggage—were secured with zip ties beside everyone else’s gear on the rough concrete floor at the open rear cargo door. From what Cutter had seen, these high-wing single-engine planes were the workhorses of Alaska. A Cessna 185 taildragger painted in the blue-and-white Troopers color scheme occupied the corner of the hangar to the Caravan’s right. A smaller, flimsy-looking Piper Super Cub squatted on huge balloon tires in the shadows near a green portable toilet on the opposite side of the hangar. Wing covers, aircraft skis, survival gear, and assorted spare parts packed tall wooden shelves that ran along both side walls. Cutter was by no means a pilot, but he was a gearhead. Motor oil and rubber tires emitted comforting smells that reminded him of younger days working on project cars with Ethan and Grumpy.
Earl Battles, the trooper pilot, was a Yup’ik man in his late forties. He was built low to the ground with broad shoulders and a wide, canary-eating smile—the kind of guy who was always thinking of a good joke, even if he kept it to himself. Obviously in a hurry to get going, he was situating the bags in the back of the airplane. He glanced up and saw Lola’s rifle case.
“Natalie’s bringing food and necessaries for months, so I don’t mind her plastic totes, but I appreciate you bringin’ luggage in soft cases. Makes it a heck of a lot easier to stow.”
Markham’s eyes fell to his fat, hard-sided suitcase and gave a nobody-told-me scowl.
On his knees inside the plane, the pilot reached down from the cargo door and snapped his fingers at the judge. “Let’s have that one next. It needs to go near the bottom.”
The law clerk stifled a snicker.
Cutter turned away. It was refreshing to see someone who treated judges like everyone else.
Earl reached for Lola’s rifle case, snapping again. “We’ll have to Jenga this in with everything, but I’ll make sure we don’t screw up your sights.”
After securing the wide nylon cargo net across the rear of the aircraft, Earl jumped down and shook hands with everyone. He was enthusiastic as he took each hand, like he was genuinely glad to meet them.
“So,” he said, “Lieutenant Warr told you I have to leave as soon as I drop you off?”
“He did,” Markham said.
“If the weather holds then I’ll check in with you later tonight and see if you’re ready to come back.”
“Why