"You're welcome," Bobby said. "Now f.u.c.king answer Jim's questions!" "Now f.u.c.king answer Jim's questions!"

Virgil's smile didn't falter. He looked at Jim.

Jim sat down across the table from him. "Why did you kill Len Dreyer?"

"Because he found them," Virgil said simply.

"Found who?" Jim said.

"The babies."

"What babies?" Jim looked at Bobby, who pointed a finger at his ear and made a circle.

"Our babies," Virgil said, closing his eyes, his voice dreamy. "Four boys, and a little girl."

Jim took a deep breath, let it out. "You don't have any children, Virgil."

Virgil opened his eyes. "No," he said. "None living. It is the sickness, you see."

"The what?"

"After the babies are born. Telma..." Virgil's face creased with sorrow. "I would try to watch, to keep them safe. But I am only one man, and I must work to make our living, so we do not go hungry, so we have a roof over our heads and clothes to wear upon our backs. I would have to go out, to do these things, and when I would come back..." He made a helpless gesture. "They would be dead."

Jim stared at him incredulously. He felt rather than saw Bobby's jaw drop. "Are you telling me that you and your wife had five children, and that Telma murdered every one of them?"

"Not murdered," Virgil said vehemently. "She loves the children, does my Telma. She loves the babies. I read up on this, I know what I am talking about. It is the sickness that mothers sometimes get after the birth of their babies. It makes the mothers do strange things."

"Jesus Christ," Bobby said blankly.

Virgil smiled, misty-eyed. "My Telma, she is so beautiful when the babies are born. She holds them close to her. She will not let go."

"She smothered them?" Jim said. He'd heard of similar cases, but five?

"She loved them!" Virgil said. "She loved them," he said in a quieter voice.

"And after she killed them, you buried them on the homestead," Jim said.

"I bury them," Virgil said, nodding. "I make their little coffins-so tiny, they are -and I dress them in the white clothes that Telma has made for them, the little innocents. They are so sweet, our babies."

"Five? You buried five babies?" Jim said. "For crissake, Virgil, why didn't you try to get Telma some help after the first one?"

Virgil looked at him, surprised. "They would have taken her from me, my beautiful Telma," he said in a gentle voice, as if explaining the matter to a child. "I cannot live without my Telma, Jim Chopin."

"You'll have to learn how now," Bobby said.

"Why did you kill Len Dreyer, Virgil?" Jim said, although he thought he already knew.

Virgil's words confirmed his suspicion. "I hire him to rototill my garden in May, but he does not dig where I tell him to."

"He dug up the bodies instead."

Virgil nodded. "My babies," he said sadly, "he digs up our babies. I do not know this at first, of course, only when he comes back the next month, when I have hired him and Dandy Mike to build my greenhouse."

His face darkened. "And then this Len Dreyer asks me for money, and I know if I do not give it to him that he will tell. He comes back every month for the money. I wait until fall, when the snow is going to fall and keep everyone home so they won't see me, and when he comes in October-"

"You shoot him with your shotgun," Jim said. "And then you took his body up to the glacier because you'd heard it was advancing and you figured his body would never be found."

Virgil shrugged. "And if it were, it would be a long time, and nothing to do with me."

"And then," Jim said grimly, "I had the brilliant idea of hiring Kate Shugak to ask around about him. And that frightened you."

"My Telma was upset when she came to the house, asking after Len Dreyer," Virgil said.

"So you set fire to her cabin," Jim said. Bobby, his face dark and his eyes narrow, sat next to him, simmering with a palpable rage.

"I set fire to her cabin," Virgil said. "But she does not die. And then I think I should leave it alone, that Dreyer is dead, that there is nothing to connect him to me, that if I say nothing no one ever will, and me and my Telma will be left alone."

"What about Dandy Mike?" Jim said tightly. "Why did you have to kill him?"

Virgil looked sorrowful. "I went to where Dreyer lived, to make sure there was nothing to find. He came. He wondered that I was there. He said nothing, but I could tell. I had my shotgun with me." He patted the air next to him. "My shotgun," he said, and looked around in some bewilderment when it didn't materialize beneath his hand.

Bobby snapped his fingers. "That's why you wanted to sell your property to Ruthe Bauman for the Kanuyaq Land Trust. You figured if it was designated wilderness, no one would ever find the babies' bodies!"

Virgil looked at him. "Could you see to my Telma now, please? You said that you would, and I am thinking she is very lonely, out there on our homestead, all by her herself. It is only the babies with her now, you see."

And he smiled.

19.

Oh good, you're awake." Kate's eyeb.a.l.l.s felt like they'd been sandpapered. "You're getting to be a regular customer, Ms. Shugak." A round figure beneath a starched white coat, the inevitable stethoscope draped around her neck, Adrienne Giroux had a soft voice and a gentle touch. "If we had frequent flyer miles, you'd be eligible for a first-cla.s.s upgrade by now."

"My dog-" Kate said.

"Is fine," Giroux said firmly. She tucked a strand of brown hair back into its twist. "The vet says she had a concussion, like you." She shook her head. "I don't understand how but neither of you were badly hurt." She smiled. "Born lucky, I think is the phrase. Both of you."

Kate blinked up at her. "Mutt's all right?"

"Yes."

"She's not dead?"

"No. She's not even hurt that badly." Giroux smiled. "I imagine that hunky trooper of yours will bring her in at some point during your stay, violating hospital protocols right, left, and center."

"He's not my hunky trooper."

"Really," Dr. Giroux said. "My mistake."

Kate thought back. "Dirt," she said. "I could hardly breathe."

"Yes," the doctor said, "apparently-" but there was no apparently because Kate's eyes closed and she slid gratefully back into sleep.

The second time she opened her eyes Auntie Vi was there, sewing something, her half-gla.s.ses slipping down her nose, looking impossibly dear. Kate watched, saying nothing, until Auntie Vi looked up and said, "Katya! You awake!"

"Hi, Auntie," Kate said with what she knew must be a very weak smile.

Auntie Vi smiled back. "You want some water?"

Kate nodded, and sipped at the cup held to her lips, and slipped back into sleep.

The third time she woke up Mutt was there, sitting next to tue bed, just tall enough to rest her nose on its edge. Big yellow eyes blinked at Kate, one eyebrow raised, and Kate heard the thumping of a tail against the floor. The area beneath her right ear had been shaved and there were st.i.tches. She looked like Dr. Frankenstein had been using her for experimentation.

"Mutt," Kate said. Tears blurred her eyes. "Mutt," she said again, and reached out. A rending pain beneath her forehead blinded her. Her gasp caused a flurry of movement beyond her vision. She didn't slide into sleep this time, she plummeted.

The fourth time she woke Mutt was still there. Johnny was sitting in Auntie Vi's chair, bent over a book.

When Kate moved, a long rasping tongue came out and washed her face. She half-smiled and tried to clear her throat. "What are you reading?" she said.

Johnny looked up. "You're awake!" he said.

"Everybody says that, and every time they do I fall back asleep. What are you reading?" He held it up, mute. "Have s.p.a.ce-suit, Will Travel. "Have s.p.a.ce-suit, Will Travel. One of my favorites." Wait a minute. Memory came back, painful and painfully. Someone had burned down her cabin, and all her books with it, and all Johnny's, too. "Where did you get it?" One of my favorites." Wait a minute. Memory came back, painful and painfully. Someone had burned down her cabin, and all her books with it, and all Johnny's, too. "Where did you get it?"

"We got a box of books from Rachel yesterday," he said.

"Good old Rachel," Kate said, closing her eyes and smiling. "Read to me."

Johnny was doubtful. "You want me to start at the beginning?"

"Anywhere."

Kip and Peewee were on their way to Tombaugh Station and Pluto when Kate drifted off this time.

The fifth time she woke she was alone, and hungry, and she had to pee. The catheter was out, thank G.o.d, and so was her IV. She sat up carefully, and discovered Mutt asleep on the floor next to the bed. The hair was starting to grow back through her st.i.tches. "Don't we make a pair," Kate said.

Mutt's ears twitched but she didn't move. Kate stepped over her and negotiated the distance between bed and bathroom successfully. She made a fairly praiseworthy attempt at a spit bath, found a comb and wetted down her hair, carefully avoiding the lump that had somehow missed being shaved, and came out looking for her clothes.

"Get the h.e.l.l back in that bed," Jim said from the door.

She glared at him, swaying a little, the draft coming in through the open back of her hospital gown. It made her feel vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of Jim. "Where are my clothes?"

"If I knew I wouldn't tell you. Get back in that bed now, or I'll put you in it."

He looked like he meant it. Grumbling, she obeyed, keeping her back turned away from him. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah, like that's a surprise," he said, and deposited a Styrofoam container on her lap.

She opened it and found country-fried steak, no gravy, eggs scrambled soft, and home fries with onions and green peppers. She blinked. She might even have sniffled.

"Don't you dare cry."

She looked at him, misty-eyed.

"I mean it," he said, sitting on the extreme edge of a chair.

"Where's the coffee?"

He handed her an Americano tall, with cream.

She couldn't help it; one lone tear escaped to run down her cheek. He looked away, glaring at a potted plant sitting on her nightstand. She swiped at the tear with her hand while he wasn't looking. A small brown bag held a side of sausage gravy, plastic flatware, and salt and pepper. "Could you push the table over here?"

He pushed.

"Could you raise the bed, please?"

He raised.

"What day is it?"

"Friday. May sixteenth."

"Thanks." She waded in. Mutt woke up, noticed Jim Chopin was in the room, and padded over to welcome him with a lavish tongue. Her head wound must have slowed her down some, at least temporarily, because she was less effusive than usual. He could be grateful for that while abhorring the cause. He was silent, sipping his own coffee as he waited for Kate to eat. Nothing got in the way of Kate Shugak and a meal, not even a double homicide and two, three if you counted Mutt, attempted ones.

Mutt subsided, lying back down and resting her head on his right foot. He'd been tapping it nervously, so he took that as a hint.

Kate finished the last bite with a positively voluptuous sigh and leaned back, uncapping the coffee and sniffing it ecstatically. She sipped, and made a sound that sounded appropriate coming from a bed. Jim gritted his teeth.

"I'm going to live," she said, smiling at him.

"Good," he said briskly. "Now tell me what happened. You went out to the Hagbergs' place. Why?"

Right to business. She searched her memory, and to her relief the fragments came together. "Because I got to looking at the list of people who'd had contact with Dreyer prior to his murder, and after what Gary Drussell said, I wondered if there were minor girl children in any of the other homes. And then of course I remembered Vanessa."

"Of course."

"So I went over there to talk to Virgil and Telma about Vanessa. I wanted to make sure she was all right, that Dreyer hadn't gotten to her the way he had Tracy Drussell, and that if he had that we got her some help."

"I see." He sat still for a moment. "And Virgil thought you were there because you'd figured out that he had killed Dreyer."

She looked up. "Virgil killed Len Dreyer?"

He nodded. "And Dandy Mike."

She stared. "What?"