Free Red Knife by William Kent Krueger

joined him in the cool blue that was the shadow of coming night. Cork had built the patio himself, a smallish brick affair that Jo had outlined with hostas. In spring and fall, it was a good place to eat a meal and relax. In summer, there were mosquitoes to contend with and blackflies and yellow jackets. The backyard wasn’t separated from the neighbors’ yards in any formal way; in Aurora, there weren’t many fences. But everyone knew where their property lines ran, especially when it came to mowing grass or raking leaves.
    “And?” Jo finally said.
    Cork realized he hadn’t said a word since they’d sat down.
    “I talked to Tom Blessing, gave him a deadline for putting me in touch with Thunder.”
    “He didn’t spit in your eye?”
    “No, but he wasn’t exactly quaking in his boots either.”
    “Will he? Put you in touch with Lonnie Thunder, I mean.”
    “Doesn’t matter. One way or another I’ll find Thunder. By the way, George LeDuc says that Alex Kingbird was seeing Henry Meloux.”
    “Now that’s interesting.”
    “I’m planning on having a talk with Henry tomorrow, see what he has to say about that. He might have an idea about Thunder, too.”
    “Cork.” From the way she said his name—a mix of tender and tough—he knew, more or less, what was coming next. “I know you promised Marsha that you’d help her, but I keep thinking that if you’re alone on the rez poking around trying to find Lonnie Thunder, sooner or later the Red Boyz are going to catch you isolated out there and do something about it.”
    He put his beer down and nodded thoughtfully so that she could see he really was hearing what she said. Then he replied, “The people I need to talk to will be more inclined to open up if I go alone. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. And I won’t be completely alone. I’ll take my thirty-eight, loaded and locked in the glove box.”
    She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t understand what’s so important about bringing in Thunder now. It seems to me the damage has already been done.”
    Cork nodded again and then he explained: “The more players we’re able to remove from the situation, the better the chances of handling it.”
    “ We’re able to remove? Sweetheart, you gave up the badge. And just exactly who are we bringing in from the other side of this situation? The people on the rez are going to be very interested to see how diligently our sheriff—and those helping her—go after Kingbird’s killer, especially since all the signs point toward Buck Reinhardt.”
    “Elise says Buck was with her when the shootings occurred.”
    “Oh, now there’s testimony that would convince a jury.”
    “I think that at the moment Marsha doesn’t have any evidence to the contrary.”
    “She’d better find some fast. Whatever people on the rez thought of Alex Kingbird doesn’t matter. The situation as they’ll see it—and you know this better than anybody, Cork—is that an Ojibwe’s been killed—very likely by someone who’s white—and the authorities are dragging their heels. It doesn’t matter what the reality is, the perception will be damning. You’ll have young Shinnobs lined up around the block to join the Red Boyz.”
    “People rush to judgment all the time, Jo. A proper investigation moves more slowly.”
    “Proper investigation? You sound exactly like a white cop now.” Her face changed, softened. “Cork, I’m playing devil’s advocate, saying things you know are going to be said. Unless Marsha’s able to wrap this up quickly, it’s apt to fall apart on her. It scares me to think of you in the middle when that happens.”
    “I know it does. What do you want me to do?”
    “I want you to step away from it.” She held him with the clear blue wish of her eyes, then gave up with a sigh. “But I know you and I know you won’t.”
    She fell silent, tilted her face upward, and gazed at the night that was crawling into the sky.

THIRTEEN
    T hat