Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,54
of that nature. Deputy, when we’re on the boat, you can tell me why this woman wants me dead.”
* * *
Cutter had all his gear in a rubberized dry-bag that had belonged to his brother. Rather than sort through everything, he simply took out the extra clothing he didn’t think he’d need and left it on a chair in the library. Florida was warm, but Grumpy had taught both his grandsons to get in the habit of taking a vacuum-sealed set of dry underwear when they went into the woods, in case they went in the drink. Now that he was in Alaska, he’d exchanged the extra boxers for a set of merino-wool long johns and socks. Sealed in the same bag was a box of waterproof matches and a candle. Cutter wore both pistols, and a sheath knife Mim had given him, on his belt. In his pocket he had a folding knife, a lighter, and a small flashlight—the basics of everyday carry.
Lola would have a similar setup. She’d been in Alaska longer than he had. He considered asking to check the judge’s gear, but thought better of it.
Cutter, Lola, and the judge all loaded their bags into the trailer behind the VPSO’s Honda and then climbed in to sit on top of them. The snow had stopped, but fog had moved in with a vengeance, making it impossible to see past the ATV from the trailer. Melvin said wistfully and to nobody in particular that he hoped they could make it back in time for the potluck later that night, but that he understood they might be a while because somebody had died.
Ned made a quick stop at his house. It was just around the corner, one side of a duplex that Cutter guessed was teacher housing since Mrs. Jasper was the school counselor. He came out almost as soon as he went in, carrying a dry-bag similar to Cutter’s over his shoulder. A scoped bolt-action rifle was in his left hand.
“I thought VPSOs weren’t supposed to be armed,” Markham said as Ned swung a leg over the four-wheeler.
“We’re not supposed to hunt murderers either,” Jasper said grimly. “I guess there’s technically a way to get qualified, but that’s a long and political road—way above my pay grade. Rules or no rules, I’m not going out there without my rifle. My wife would never let me hear the end of it if I got myself killed.”
“Wise,” Cutter said.
Jasper checked over his shoulder to make sure he had everyone, then rode into the fog toward the river.
Gray buildings ghosted by in the mist. Snow and sky and air melded together, making it impossible to tell which way was up, let alone see the road. It was easy to understand how pilots could become disoriented and auger into the ground in this kind of soup. Cutter couldn’t see the water, but they must have arrived because Ned stopped his ATV and killed the engine, leaving nothing but the hiss of ice on the Kuskokwim and the telltale thump of Birdie Pingayak already moving around on her aluminum boat. The air was dead still, slightly warmer than it had been when they’d arrived—a bad sign when they needed the fog to lift.
Ned led the way past two aluminum skiffs pulled up on the mud, down to where Birdie’s boat bobbed along the shore. The bow rope was tied off to a piece of old drill stem that had been hammered into the dirt. Pingayak was a misty apparition at the stern, barely visible though she was less than twenty feet away. Every few seconds, a large chunk of floating ice thudded against the side of the boat, reminding everyone that the river would not stay liquid much longer.
“Put your stuff up there in the front,” Birdie said. “Two of you sit in the middle, but I need a couple of you to ride up front and be my eyes. Watch for trees, sandbars, thick ice. We have a little bit of a trip ahead of us and not much time till dark. We should hurry, but we won’t do anybody any good if I run up on some pan ice and rip the lower unit off my motor.”
“Sounds like a wise plan of action,” Markham said.
Cutter was mildly surprised when the judge didn’t make seating assignments himself, but took a position on the wooden bench amidships.
“I’ll take the bow,” Jasper said. “It will help me learn the river better.”