SPOILS
OF THE
DEAD
DANA
STABENOW
“For those who like series, mysteries, rich, idiosyncratic settings, engaging characters, strong women and hot sex on occasion, let me recommend Dana Stabenow.”
Diana Gabaldon
“A darkly compelling view of life in the Alaskan Bush, well laced with lots of gallows humor. Her characters are very believable, the story lines are always suspenseful, and every now and then she lets a truly vile villain be eaten by a grizzly. Who could ask for more?”
Sharon Penman
“Cleverly conceived and crisply written thrillers that provide a provocative glimpse of life as it is lived, and justice as it is served, on America’s last frontier.”
San Diego Union-Tribune
“Stabenow is blessed with a rich prose style and a fine eye for detail. An outstanding series.”
Washington Post
“Excellent… No one writes more vividly about the hardships and rewards of living in the unforgiving Alaskan wilderness and the hardy but frequently flawed characters who choose to call it home. This is a richly rewarding regional series that continues to grow in power as it grows in length.”
Publishers Weekly
“A dynamite combination of atmosphere, action, and character.”
Booklist
“Full of historical mystery, stolen icons, burglaries, beatings, and general mayhem… The plot bursts with color and characters… If you have in mind a long trip anywhere, including Alaska, this is the book to put in your backpack.”
Washington Times
“One of the strongest voices in crime fiction.”
Seattle Times
The Kate Shugak series
A Cold Day for Murder
A Fatal Thaw
Dead in the Water
A Cold-Blooded Business
Play with Fire
Blood Will Tell
Breakup
Killing Grounds
Hunter’s Moon
Midnight Come Again
The Singing of the Dead
A Fine and Bitter Snow
A Grave Denied
A Taint in the Blood
A Deeper Sleep
Whisper to the Blood
A Night Too Dark
Though Not Dead
Restless in the Grave
Bad Blood
Less Than a Treason
No Fixed Line
The Liam Campbell series
Fire and Ice
So Sure of Death
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Better to Rest
Spoils of the Dead
*
Silk and Song
Death of an Eye
DANA
STABENOW
SPOILS
OF THE
DEAD
A LIAM CAMPBELL NOVEL
www.headofzeus.com
First published in 2021 by Head of Zeus, Ltd
Copyright © Dana Stabenow, 2021
The moral right of Dana Stabenow to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available
ISBN (HB): 9781788549158
ISBN (XTPB): 9781788549165
ISBN (E): 9781788549141
Head of Zeus Ltd
First Floor East
5–8 Hardwick Street
London EC1R 4RG
WWW.HEADOFZEUS.COM
For Gerry Ryan, my Irish dad
1933–2019
He would have fallen head over heels for Sybilla
Map
But I recognized death
With sorrow and dread,
And I hated and hate
The spoils of the dead.
—Robert Frost
Contents
Also by Dana Stabenow
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Epigraph
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Acknowledgments
About the author
Liam Campbell Investigations
Kate Shugak Investigations
An Invitation from the Publisher
One
Thirty years ago, July
“COME ON, ERIK!” JOSH’S SNEAKERS disappeared over a mussel-encrusted rock ridge left exposed by the low tide. His voice echoed behind him. “We have to get there and back again before the tide turns!”
Like Erik didn’t know that. He pulled himself up the ridge, puffing, and saw Josh’s tracks in the dark sand, the strides long, the toes dug in. He was running.
Bastard. Erik savored the forbidden word in his mind and even thought about saying it out loud. No one was around to hear, or wash out his mouth with soap, or spank him, or send him to bed without his supper. Which his mother lost no opportunity to do because she thought he was too fat.
Instead, with a heavy sigh, he hoisted himself up over the ridge of rocks covered in barnacles, mussels, and kelp, and slid down the other side to land in the damp black sand on his backside. The edge of a mussel shell had caught his finger. The wound was was bleeding sluggishly, dripping down from his hand. He knew better than to say anything, but he heard Josh laughing, and looked up to see the other boy vanish around the next ridge of rock, his excited voice lingering after him. “Wait till you see, Erik! It is the coolest thing ever!”
It was low tide on an already broad, gently sloping beach that was half sand and half mud, with a narrow section of tumbled gravel between sand and goose grass. The beach stretched down to a glassy calm of sun-washed blue. This side of the bay was backed by two bluffs, one at water’s edge and another miles inland. Both were made of glacial silt that had spent epochs washing down Cook Inlet to pack down and pile up, interrupted by seams of black coal. On the other side of the Bay the bright teeth of the mountains gnawed at the lighter blue of the sky. Behind them the summer sun was setting somewhere behind Redoubt, turning the sky toward the pale twilight that passed for night during summer in Alaska. The tide was about to turn and the mud bloomed with a thousand spurts of water, the razor clams digging in beneath the incoming edge of the water. The salt air stung his nostrils and Erik drank it in with every labored breath, watching the shadows lengthen and the light fade. Even at the age of ten he understood that he lived in a beautiful place, and was grateful for it.
“Erik!”
Josh’s scream jerked him around in a circle and yanked him into motion up the beach without volition or thought.
“Erik! Help!”
Erik had never heard Josh’s voice sound like that, a high, thin edge of fear that knifed right through him.
“No, don’t—Erik, help, Erik, no don’t please don’t Erik help!”
There was the sound of a thunk, exactly like a cleaver coming down on a roast when they butchered out their
