Free Bad Blood by Dana Stabenow

from this woman, she would take as Old Sam’s due. “He liked you, a lot,” she said.
    “I know,” Anne said. “I was proud he did. He didn’t like everybody.”
    The remark surprised a laugh out of Kate. “He sure didn’t.” She willed the tears from her eyes. Laurel watched, fascinated, until Kate glared at her and she remembered that there was something she had to check in the kitchen. “The girls okay with this?” Kate said. “How are they, anyway? What are they now, fourteen?”
    “Lauren and Caitlin? Fifteen. They’re good. They stay in Cordova with their grandmother while I fly the circuit.”
    “They still packing lightsabers?”
    Anne laughed. “I’m either happy or sad to report that they’ve graduated to phasers and photon torpedos. They’ve been watching all the Star Trek series on DVD. Lauren keeps running into doors. I don’t know if she really expects them to slide open, so much as she thinks they ought to in a better organized universe.”
    “Ah,” Kate said. “ TOS or TNG ?”
    Anne laughed again. “They love Voyager for Janeway and Nine, but they were both DS9 girls from the first year. Everyone’s using iPads in DS9 . I think they’re both geeks for life.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m due in Double Eagle this evening for a christening, and then Kushtaka tomorrow.”
    “Kushtaka?”
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “Jim’s down there. Been an accident of some kind.”
    “Somebody hurt?”
    “He wasn’t specific,” Kate said, crossing her fingers beneath the table. “But there is trouble.”
    Anne frowned. “Good thing I’m already scheduled there, then.”
    She said it utterly without ego or vanity. Anne Flanagan was in service to the community and it wasn’t about her; it was about the people on her pastoral circuit. Kate had to admire that, even if she was never going to attend one of Anne’s services. Although she might do that one day, too, because what Anne said about faith would be a lot different from what Pastor Seabolt in Chistona said about faith. Kate was certain any god Anne paid homage to would be a lot more accepting of the various, beautiful, and new flavors of people. She might even have a sense of humor, too.
    She drove Anne back to the airport. As the minister preflighted and did the walkaround, one of George’s Single Otter turbos took off for the mine and a small white private jet touched down and rolled to a stop in front of his hangar.
    Anne paused, following Kate’s gaze. “What is that, a G2?”
    “Beats me,” Kate said.
    Her clipped tone made Anne give her a quizzical glance, which narrowed when a tall man with thick white hair and jeans that looked tailored to fit disembarked from the jet. He caught sight of them, waved, and jogged across the airstrip.
    In the cab of Kate’s pickup, Mutt sat up, ears cocked and yellow eyes fixed on the oncoming figure.
    “Stay, Mutt,” Kate said.
    “Kate?” Anne said in a low voice.
    “Kate,” the man said jovially, coming to a stop in front of them, hands in the pockets of an elegant olive green safari jacket that Anne estimated probably cost as much as her Tri-Pacer. “And this is?” He smiled at Anne, and she had to admit it was a very nice smile, white even teeth in a tanned face filled with interesting lines. He walked like a much younger man, but up close she could see he was older than she’d first thought.
    “Anne Flanagan,” she said, and wondered at the faint sense of uneasiness she felt in his presence.
    “Ah yes,” he said, holding out his hand, “the new flying pastor?”
    “Why, yes,” she said. His grip was hard and firm and meant to leave an impression. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met, have we?”
    “Erland Bannister,” he said, and the faint sense of uneasiness jolted into full-blown alarm. She recovered almost immediately but he had seen, and his smile widened. “I see you’ve heard all about me, Reverend Flanagan.” He turned that smile on Kate. “Yes,