“Too late. She’s already gone.”
“Where?”
“Search me. I went into Allouette after lunch. When I came back, she was gone.”
“Did someone come to get her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Same reason she came, I suppose. It suited her.”
Stone whipped his arm back and the line arced through the air, catching the sunlight along its whole length so that for an instant it appeared to glow as if electric.
“Byron, I have an order authorizing me to pick up and detain Elizabeth Fineday for questioning in connection with the murder of Edward Jacoby. That order authorizes me to search your property for Lizzie.”
“Be my guest. Mind if I keep working on my technique?”
“Morgan, Pender,” Cork said. “Keep him company while Captain Larson and I have a look inside.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Morgan replied.
Cork saw that Dina had left her car and was making her way to the back of the deputies’ cruisers, keeping them between herself and any threat Stone might pose. He wondered what she was up to.
He held the screen door open for Larson, who went into the cabin first. Cork had been inside twice before, once with ATF and a couple years later with DEA. The place looked as spotless now as it had on the other two occasions. Once the casino allotments began to be distributed to the enrolled members of the band, some Iron Lake Ojibwe had gone a little crazy, packing their homes to the rafters with all manner of junk, feeding appetites generated by the sudden wealth. Stone continued to live simply. The Land Rover outside was his only obvious extravagance.
He’d built the cabin himself, a simple square divided into four rooms: a main living area, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small bedroom. The wide window in the living area looked toward the lake. Cork suspected the beautiful view wasn’t the only reason for its location. Through that window, Stone could see anything approaching along the road. The walls were bare logs, no paneling to hide insulation. Stone had cut the trees, planed and notched the logs so that they fit perfectly. The winter wind could not penetrate. He’d drilled his own well, put in his own septic system, had done all the wiring and plumbing himself. The electricity came from his own generator. He probably had ignored codes, but no inspector ever bothered to check. When dealing with Stone, most people didn’t sweat the small things.
They went through the cabin, found no sign of Lizzie, not even any evidence that she’d been there. They stepped back outside.
Stone hadn’t moved. With the canvas bag of rods on the ground at his feet, he still cast his line at the chopping block. Morgan and Pender watched him closely, and no one uttered a word. Dina was lurking behind Stone’s Land Rover.
“She cleaned up after herself pretty well,” Cork said.
“Didn’t she?” Stone replied.
“Morgan, you got a cell phone?”
“In my cruiser.”
“Call the North Star Bar, find out if Lizzie Fineday is there.”
Morgan started to turn.
“Cell phones don’t work here,” Stone said. He nodded toward the gray ridge at his back. “It’s the iron in the rock. Interferes with the signal.”
“Try it anyway,” Cork said to Morgan. “If he’s right, relay the request to dispatch and have Patsy make the call.”
Morgan hopped to it.
“I’d like you to come with us into town, Byron, answer a few questions about Lizzie.”
“Got a warrant? No? Then you know I don’t have to go. I’m content here.”
“All right. While she was here, did Lizzie say anything to you about Edward Jacoby?”
“Most of the time she slept. She needed the rest.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“No. The answer is no.”
“Her face was bruised. Did she tell you how that happened?”
“I believe she fell.”
“She told you that?”
“That’s what she said.”
From behind Stone’s Land Rover, Dina called, “What time did you get back from Allouette today?”
Stone turned his attention away from the fishing line to the woman. His eyebrows arched as if he were surprised, only just now aware of her presence. Histrionics, Cork knew, because Stone didn’t miss a thing.
“I heard you were pretty,” he said. “And that you like to flash your breasts around.”
“When did you get back from Allouette?” Cork said.
“Couple of hours ago.”
“Engine’s still warm,” Dina said to Cork.
Stone went back to his casting. “I left again and came back again.”
“Where?” Cork said.
“Brandywine. Had business at the mill there. You can check. But what difference does it make? Am I a suspect?”
“Sheriff,” Morgan hollered from his cruiser. “Patsy says Lizzie’s not at the North Star. Will Fineday claims he hasn’t seen her since he was out here the other day.”
“If I wanted to protect my daughter, I’d claim the same thing,” Stone said. “On the other hand, Lizzie’s lived on the rez her whole life. She’s got friends, other relatives. Seems to me you’ve got a lot of checking to do, Sheriff. I’d get started if I were you.”
Cork looked back at the empty cabin. He thought about warning Stone that if he was hiding Lizzie he’d be in trouble, but he knew Stone didn’t care. “Pack it up,” he said to the others. “Let’s get out of here.”
Under Stone’s intransigent eye, they turned their vehicles and headed back the way they’d come. This time Dina Willner led the way. At the junction with the county road, she pulled over and got out. The two cruisers rolled past and braked to a halt ahead of her. Cork drew alongside and leaned out his window.
“What is it?”
“The cast of the tire tracks out at the Tibodeau cabin. What kind of tires did you say those were?”
“Goodyear Wranglers. MT/Rs, I think. Why?”
“Stone’s got Goodyear Wranglers on his Land Rover. MT/Rs, and they’re new.”
Cork looked over at Larson.
Larson said, “You think?”
Dina said, “At the Tibodeau cabin, you had two people, probably a man and a woman, involved in the shooting. They knew the reservation well enough to know the Tibodeaus would be gone. At least one of them understood how to plan an ambush. And they escaped in a vehicle sporting Goodyear MT/Rs. You told me Lizzie wants to be an actress. Could she do a pretty good imitation of Lucy Tibodeau, do you think?”
“I imagine,” Cork said.
“And is Stone a decent shot?”
“Stone’s an excellent shot. Been hunting all his life.”
“I don’t know why they’d do it, but they certainly seem to me like prime suspects in that shooting,” Dina concluded.
“Why didn’t you say something back at the cabin?” Larson asked.
“Did you see the canvas bag at his feet?”
“For his rods?”
“He never moved a foot from that bag. I’m betting it wasn’t fishing rods he had in there.”
“A rifle?” Cork said.
“It seemed like a possibility to me. And if he is the shooter, it’s likely that he’s using armor-piercing ammunition. It didn’t seem prudent to challenge him at that point. People could have been hurt.”
