“DID SHE KNOW WHAT THE JOB WAS?” SLADE ASKED.

The two of them were sitting in Kane’s truck. Around them, the business of the Pitchfork mine went on as though nothing had happened. The two trooper investigators were set up in Charlie Simms’s office, questioning mine workers about the robbery. They still had a lot of people to talk to.

“She didn’t,” Kane said. “What did you find out at the post office?”

A look of worry passed over Slade’s face.

“Those federal bureaucrats are even more secretive than Miss Wisp,” he said, “but I finally got them to tell me that the box is rented by our friend Little John.”

“Interesting,” Kane said.

“Think we should go see him?” Slade asked.

“Absolutely,” Kane said, “but since we’re here, there’s a couple of things I want to do first.”

“What’s that?” Slade asked.

“Well, first, I want to look over Simms’s room again,” Kane said.

Slade raised an eyebrow.

“I just want to check on something he said,” Kane said.

Simms’s room was unchanged, right down to the dirty dishes still in the sink.

“We’ve got to search the whole place again,” Kane said. “I’ll start in the bathroom.”

“What are we looking for?” Slade asked.

“Pictures,” Kane said.

The two of them moved through the apartment carefully, searching the furniture, sounding the walls and taking down curtain rods and closet poles to make sure nothing was rolled up and hidden inside. They found nothing. Kane sat on the couch in the living room and let his eyes wander around. They stopped at the row of videotapes beneath the television.

“You know,” he said, getting up from the couch, “there’s nothing that says pictures have to be still pictures.”

He crouched, pulled a tape from its box and looked at the handwritten label. He repeated that procedure until all dozen tapes were stacked on the floor in front of the television.

“I guess they’ve got cable here,” Kane said. “Charlie seems to have been taping The Sopranos.”

“What?” Slade said. “No porn?”

“Not on the labels,” Kane said. He looked at Slade.

“I suppose we’re going to have to watch all of these,” the trooper said.

“We are,” Kane said. “You’ve got a VCR back at your quarters, don’t you?”

The trooper nodded.

“Then I guess we’ll just look at these tapes later,” he said.

They carried the tapes out to Kane’s truck and put them in the passenger seat. Tony Figone and his sidekick pulled up.

“That’s good timing,” Kane said. “The other thing I wanted to do was talk to Figone.”

“Got a call we’re being interrogated,” Figone said to Kane. “That you guys?”

“No,” Kane said, “a couple of trooper investigators. They’re in Charlie’s office. But I do have a few questions.”

“Come on in,” Figone said. “We’ll tell the troopers we’re here and then we’ll talk.”

“I’ll tell them,” Slade said, knocking on the door to Simms’s office. Tony led the way to the conference room. Slade followed a moment later.

“They want one of you now,” he said.

“Why don’t you go first?” Figone said to his companion. After the man left, Figone said to the trooper, “No offense, but this will go a lot easier if it’s just me and Kane.”

Slade shrugged and left.

“Got a problem with the kid?” Kane asked.

“Not really,” Figone said. “But you know how it is in a small town. You hear things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Oh, just that the kid might be a little badge heavy. And maybe a little too friendly with the ladies.”

Kane laughed.

“That’d describe just about every young cop I ever knew. Including me.”

Figone grinned.

“Me, too, I guess. Now what was it you wanted to know?”

“I want to know about Charlie,” Kane said. “How he’s seemed lately. If he’s done anything unusual. You know the drill.”

“You think he was involved in the robbery?”

Kane didn’t say anything.

“Me, too,” Figone said. “The SUV, right? No damage.”

Kane nodded.

“He wouldn’t have been that easy to run off the road. You’d need something big to overpower that Explorer, and you’d have to hit it pretty hard. Hard enough to leave marks.”

“That’s what I thought the first thing I saw it,” Figone said. “Have the troopers figured that out yet?”

Kane shrugged.

“Don’t know. They’re putting up with me because they know I’ve got political backing, but that doesn’t mean they’re telling me what they’re thinking.”

Figone grinned.

“Yeah, we always used to hate guys like you when we were on their side of it, didn’t we? Anyway, Charlie. Nothing too unusual. Not out carousing at night. Not chasing secretaries around the desk. Three, four months ago he did start getting a little hepped on the subject of theft, particularly payroll theft. Even started working a split shift. Said it was so he could keep an eye on the night crew. Not that there’s much of a night crew working right now.”

“Got any idea what he was doing in his time off?”

“Not really. He was going off the mine site, but I don’t know where exactly.”

“Anything else?”

Figone looked off into space for a minute.

“Just one thing. He was due for R-and-R last month and didn’t take it. Said he didn’t want to leave during a period of heightened danger.”

He shook his head.

“Jesus, Nik, I hope he wasn’t involved in this. I’d hate for it to be him.”

“Me, too, Tony,” Kane said, getting to his feet, “but it’s got to be somebody.”

He put his hand on Figone’s shoulder.

“There’s no reason for you to volunteer any of this to the troopers,” he said.

“I understand, but if they ask me, I’m not lying to them. I need this job.”

“That’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to lie. I’d just like to keep a step ahead of them if I can.”

“Are you a step ahead now?” Figone asked.

“Shit, Tony, who knows?” Kane said.

He left Figone sitting in the conference room and walked into the waiting area. Richardson, the mine manager, waved him over into his office.

“Just thought you should know, we’re offering a reward for the recovery of the money,” he said. “Ten thousand. Since you’re not in law enforcement anymore, you’d be eligible.”

Kane nodded and walked toward the door. Gossip and tips brought out by the reward should keep the troopers busy. Slade was sitting in a chair in the waiting area.

“Get anything from Figone?” he asked.

Kane stopped and looked down at the trooper.

“Not really,” he said. “Simms started acting differently a few months ago, but not really in a way that tells me anything. I’ve got a lot of pieces, but none that seem to go together.”

“So now what?” the trooper asked.

“I don’t know,” Kane said. He put on his coat, ran a hand through his hair, then covered it with a knit cap. “We need to talk to a couple of guys named John, but we don’t really have a lever to pry anything out of them yet. So we’d better wait. I think I’ll head over to Rejoice to check in and have lunch. I’ll drop these tapes off at your place first if you’ve got an extra key. What about you?”

The trooper shrugged.

“I really ought to be out on patrol sometime today,” he said, “but I also need to stick around in case these guys need anything. So I’ll probably do that. Just don’t go talking to the Johns without me.”

He took a bunch of keys off his belt, separated one, and handed it to Kane.

“That’ll let you in.”

“Okay,” Kane said. “See you later.”

Kane drove to the trooper office, unloaded the tapes, and drove to Rejoice. Along the way he moved pieces of information around in his head without forming a clear picture. Whatever Faith Wright had been doing with her afternoons, the Johns had been involved. But he couldn’t see one of them as the person who’d shot at him. They both seemed too confused and dispirited. I suppose it could have been Big John, he thought, but would he be creeping around Rejoice? Probably not. So it was likely someone in Rejoice was involved as well.

And as for the robbery? He couldn’t see Charlie Simms involved in the robbery, but he couldn’t see how it had happened without Charlie’s help. And if he was going to steal the payroll, why would Charlie be warning everyone of the danger? He’d told Kane that Big John had been a particular danger. That made a clean sweep of the Johns. Did that mean that Faith’s disappearance and the robbery were related somehow? Everywhere he looked was fog.

Except on the road. The sun suddenly broke through the clouds and, as low as it was, shone directly into Kane’s eyes. He pulled over and put on his sunglasses. I wish the same thing would happen in this case, he thought, and drove on. He pulled into the Rejoice community center just before noon and went inside.

He’d almost finished his cheeseburger when Ruth Hunt came out of the kitchen and sat across from him. She looked drawn and tired, although even like that she looked good to Kane.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” he said. “I think this case is picking up speed, so I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the pleasure of your company for a while.”

She looked at him and smiled.

“Something’s changed, hasn’t it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Kane said.

“You seem different,” she said. “More alive somehow.”

“Must be the coffee I get to drink when I’m not here,” he said.

“That must be it,” she said, “the coffee.”

After a silence, she said, “Do you think you will find Faith soon?”

“I don’t know, but I think I know some places to look. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m not really sure,” she said, reaching out to put her hand over his. “Things with Gregory seem to have reached a critical mass. He came home from Anchorage with the basketball teams late yesterday, and we talked for most of the night. Neither one of us is happy with our marriage, and neither one of us wants to do what the other thinks it would take to make things work.”

They were silent for several minutes.

“There’s an old joke about the definition of mixed feelings,” Kane said at last. “They’re what you have when you find out your mother-in-law has driven off a cliff in your new Cadillac. I have mixed feelings about your news. I’ve been left myself, so I know something about how Gregory feels. But mostly I’m happy and hopeful that this means you and I will be spending more time together.”

“I hope so, too,” she said. “Maybe when you finish your case and I wrap up my obligations here, we can go someplace together.”

She looked around the room, withdrew her hand, and stood up.

“I have to get back to work,” she said, “and we don’t want to start any gossip. The community’s reaction will be bad enough when people learn I’m leaving.”

“I’ve got to get going, too,” Kane said. “I’m sleeping over at the trooper office if you need to find me.”

She waved and went back into the kitchen. Kane finished his lunch and started for the door. As he passed the community meeting room, he saw Moses Wright sitting in his office. Matthew Pinchon was sitting in the chair opposite him and seemed to be crying. Wright looked up from the boy’s face and glared at Kane, who kept walking.

As he drove back to Devil’s Toe, he pondered his options. None of the ones involving law enforcement officers looked promising. Too damn many rights and warnings. Without them, though, he was limited to scooping Johnny Starship up at school, taking him somewhere, and scaring the shit out of him to make him talk. Or he could grab the boy’s father somehow and sweat him. But either of those approaches were far too close to breaking the law. I didn’t get into this to become a thug, he thought.

So instead he drove to the trooper office and carried the tapes upstairs. He shed his outdoor gear and made a pot of coffee. When he had a cup, he sat down to look at tape. He’d planned to fast-forward through the tapes, looking for he didn’t really know what. But he quickly realized that watching the tapes whiz by made him feel jumpy. So he rewound the tape, put the tapes in chronological order, and began watching at regular speed.

Slade came in as he was taking the fifth tape out of the player.

“What are you doing here?” Kane asked.

Slade looked at him quizzically.

“It’s after five o’clock,” he said, “where else should I be?”

“No kidding?” Kane said. “I guess I got caught up in what I’m watching.”

“Learn anything?” the trooper asked, tossing his coat on a chair and taking a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

“Yeah,” Kane said, “this Tony Soprano is one sick puppy.”

Slade laughed.

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

“Where are Sam and Harry?” Kane asked.

“They’re damn tired of having mine workers tell them nothing,” Slade said, “so they decided to get a few beers and then dinner at the roadhouse. You want to join them?”

Kane shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I really need to know if there’s anything on these tapes.”

He put tape number six in the player.

“And if there’s not?” Slade asked, sitting down beside him.

“If there’s not, we’re going to have to lean on Little John pretty hard about that post office box and hope he cracks,” Kane said, “although we still don’t have anything he can’t explain his way out of.”

He hit the Play button.

“Besides,” he said, “I need to see what Tony Soprano is going to do next.”

Two tapes later, Slade got up from the couch.

“That’s a good show,” he said, “but I’ve got to have something to eat. Think I’ll go see if my fellow troopers have progressed to food yet.”

Kane pulled the tape from the player and inserted another one.

“Okay, go ahead,” he said. “I’ve only got a couple more tapes to go. Think I’ll finish.”

Slade walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Kane hit the Play button.

A poorly lit and somewhat blurry image came up on the screen. A young woman with long black hair that had beads woven into the ends walked into the picture. She was wearing a black ribbon around her neck, a black garter belt, long black stockings, black high-heeled shoes, and nothing else.

“Charlie, you devil,” Kane said, smiling, “this isn’t The Sopranos.”

The woman was followed by a naked man, an older guy with his gut sucked in and a considerable erection. Kane’s smile faded from his lips. The man was Charlie Simms. The woman knelt on the carpet. The man walked up and stood in front of her. Her head began to bob. As she continued, her hands on his flanks worked him around so that his face would be clear to the camera.

“Aw, hell, Charlie,” Kane said aloud.

The woman got up and lay on the bed. The man lay down on top of her. He began moving. There was no sound on the tape, but he could see the woman’s mouth moving, encouraging the man in his efforts. As he watched Charlie Simms’s ass rise and fall with increasing speed, Kane felt sad and a little dirty.

The activity on the screen stopped abruptly. The man lay there for a few moments, then rolled off the woman. She got up and walked out of the camera’s view, returning in a matter of moments with a towel. She handed it to the man and, turning slightly, winked at the camera.

The scene jumped to another encounter, then another. Always Charlie and the young woman. She wore different wigs, different outfits, and they engaged in slightly different acts, but it was the same pair and the same result and the same, sassy wink at the camera. At the end of the sixth encounter, the screen went blank. Kane sat there, his brain spinning and a pain growing in his stomach.

“Jesus Christ,” Slade said. “I guess we know what Simms was doing with that Viagra.”

Kane looked up. The trooper was standing beside the couch, his Smokey Bear hat crumpled in his hand. Kane hadn’t heard him come out of the bathroom or noticed him while the tape was rolling.

“Yeah, we do,” Kane said. “Better than that, or maybe worse, we know what Faith Wright was doing during her afternoons. Look.”

He rewound the tape, ran it forward until the woman winked at the camera, and paused it. At the corner of her winking eye, the two men could just make out a small scar, the kind a dog’s claw might make.