Charlotte looked up, hope kindling in her eyes. “An attorney.”

Kate was immediately suspicious. “Which attorney?”

“Brendan McCord.”

Kate took a deep and, she hoped, unobtrusive breath. “Did he,” she said through her teeth. If this was some kind of joke, there wasn’t going to be enough left of Brendan McCord, Esq., to feed to a parakeet.

On the other hand, Brendan had helped a great deal on her last case. If this was payback, she owed him. She took another deep breath, not bothering to hide this one. “Did you tell him you were coming to me?”

Charlotte nodded, beginning to tear up.

“What did he say, exactly?”

Charlotte produced a delicate lace handkerchief and caught each individual tear before it damaged her makeup. She folded it neatly and put it back in her pocket. “He said that you were expensive but that you were the best in the state.”

Well. At least Brendan wasn’t sending her charity cases. Still, her shower-always supposing she ever got a chance at the hot water-and her books and her bed were no less inviting than they had been half an hour before.

“Oh,” Charlotte said, “and he also said that you owed him one.”

Son of a bitch. There wasn’t going to be enough left of Brendan McCord to feed a goddamn earthworm.

Charlotte looked at her uncertainly. “Are you all right? Your face looks kind of red.”

“Me?” Kate said. “I’m fine. Peachy.” Just because she owed Brendan McCord one-well, several-oh hell, probably a baker’s dozen-didn’t mean she was giving up without a fight. “Did Brendan happen to mention just how expensive I am?”

Before Charlotte could answer Johnny came out of the bathroom in clean sweats, rosy, tousled and damp. He looked cheerful until he saw that Charlotte was still there.

“Is there any hot water left?” Kate said.

“Sure,” he said, and vanished into his bedroom. The door shut most definitely behind him.

There was a brief silence, broken by Charlotte. “I was thinking that you could look at the evidence. Maybe with all this new DNA technology, there would be some way of proving she didn’t do it.”

“Ms. Muravieff-”

“ Charlotte, please.”

“ Charlotte,” Kate said, “your mother’s been in jail for thirty years. We haven’t been a state much longer than that. Back then the Alaskan judicial system was still figuring out how to find its own ass without even a flashlight, much less two hands. Besides, we’re not talking about a cold case here. Your mother was tried and convicted. They’d have had no reason to keep whatever physical evidence they had in your mother’s case. It’ll be long gone.”

“Well, then, witnesses,” Charlotte said.

Kate didn’t know if this was loyalty or stubbornness speaking, but she admired both, which kept her response more civil than it might have been. “Same goes,” she said. “Thirty years. Some of them are bound to be dead, or just unfindable.”

“But Brendan says you’re the best,” Charlotte said stubbornly.

Exasperated, Kate said, “Why did you wait thirty years to do this?”

“She’s dying,” Charlotte said.

There was a long pause. “I see,” Kate said at last. “What does she have?”

The tears began to flow again. The handkerchief reappeared. “Uterine cancer.” She met Kate’s eyes. “I don’t want her dying in prison. I won’t let that happen.” Charlotte rummaged in her genuine-leather day pack and pulled out a checkbook. She scribbled Kate’s name, an amount, and a signature, and ripped it out and handed it to Kate.

The amount of zeros made Kate a little dizzy.

“That amount again when you get my mother out,” Charlotte said. “Plus expenses, of course.”

Kate put the check down on the table between them and pushed it across to Charlotte. She didn’t bother asking if Charlotte had that much money. She said as gently as she knew how, “This is a waste of your money and my time.”

“She didn’t do it,” Charlotte said, pushing the check back.

“Even if she didn’t,” Kate said, “even if someone else did it, and even if he or she were alive for me to find, it would be a miracle if I picked up a trail this old and this cold.” She pushed the check back at Charlotte.

“She didn’t do it,” Charlotte said, shoving the check back so hard that it slid across the table into Kate’s lap.

Johnny slammed out of his bedroom and rummaged in the kitchen cupboards for food. Fortunately, Top Ramen kept well. He started a pot of water boiling and got down the sesame oil, which also held up under benign neglect.

He was fourteen, and in spite of an avowed determination to quit school as soon as he was legally old enough to do so, Kate was equally determined that he was going to at least get a GED and learn some kind of trade before he embraced Park rathood permanently. Besides, he was showing signs of serious interest in wildlife biology, serving what amounted to an apprenticeship in the middle of one of the most prolific wildlife areas in the world, with expert supervision from people like Park ranger Dan O’Brien, geologist Millicent Nebeker McClanahan, and self-taught naturalist Ruthe Bauman. Kate nourished the faint hope that Johnny might change his mind about college. And college cost money.

She looked at the obstinate lines of Charlotte ’s expression and reflected that she found herself doing a lot of things she never used to do before she became a mom.

She swore to herself. “All right,” she said, and crumpled the check in a fist and jammed it into a pocket. “You’ve got yourself a private investigator.”

The lines of Charlotte ’s face eased. She was wise enough to display no triumph. “Thank you, Kate.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kate said, “please.”

Charlotte stood up. “Thank you for the coffee, then.” She hesitated. “Do you need help with a place to stay in Anchorage?”

“I have a place,” Kate said, aware that Johnny had gone motionless behind her.

“Oh. Good.” Almost timidly, Charlotte added, “When can I expect to hear from you?”

Kate stood up and started walking her out. “I just got home. I’ll need a day or two to get things arranged.”

Involuntarily, Charlotte looked over her shoulder at Johnny. “Ah.”

“Yes.”

“Of course,” Charlotte said, producing keys to unlock the monster SUV, which she would never have gotten down the trail had Mac Devlin not opened the way for the house-raising the previous May. Leaving Kate’s homestead open to every itinerant petitioner with a tale of woe.

Who locked their car in the Park.

Charlotte climbed in and started the engine. Kate walked to her door, and the electric window slid down silently.

“Do you want to get your mother out of jail because she’s innocent,” Kate said, “or because she’s dying?”

Charlotte ’s lips trembled. “Both.”

The Ford reversed smoothly, swung wide in a circle, and vanished up the trail. Mac Devlin had cut quite a swath through Kate’s section of the Park with his D-6, but not quite wide enough for two cars to pass each other, so Alaska state trooper Jim Chopin had to pull over to wait for Charlotte to pass.

This was good, because it allowed Kate a few extra moments to collect the elements of her vamp persona and fix them firmly in place.

Dump her, would he?

Oh, she didn’t think so.