One Smooth Stone. Marcia Lee Laycock

flight south ahead of us. Tell me about yourself.”

      Alex took a long gulp of cold beer. “Not much to tell. You already know I went into the system when I was three, then the Donnellys moved me to Vancouver. When they died in a car crash I was bounced through group homes for a while, then into foster care for the next eight years.”

      George downed half his glass of soda. “Must’ve been rough.”

      Alex peered over the crust of his pizza. “You want horror stories? I could tell a few.”

      George took another bite and Alex decided to be sociable. “What about you? How long you been a lawyer?”

      “Passed the bar two years ago.”

      “How old are you?” Alex realized he’d blurted the words, but didn’t care enough to cover the social blunder.

      “I’ll be thirty-five in a couple of months.”

      “You don’t....”

      “I know. I don’t look it. I think that’s why Mr. Adams hired me. He uses my baby face to his advantage.”

      “Does it work?”

      George raised his eyes to meet Alex’s. “I’m good at what I do.”

      Alex had a hunch and voiced it. “Your father a lawyer?”

      George laughed. “No. He’s a pastor. Been preaching in country churches all his life. Still does. Can’t figure why I chose to be a big city lawyer.” George swallowed. “But I know he’s proud of me.”

      “How?”

      “What?”

      “That he’s proud. How do you know?”

      “He keeps telling me.”

      Alex blinked and took another gulp of his beer. He was studying the sheen on a large piece of pepperoni when George blurted out his own question.

      “Are you good at what you do?”

      “I’ve survived up here for five years.” Alex knew his tone was too defensive.

      George looked around at the bar’s clientele. “I guess that does take some kind of...stamina.”

      Alex snorted. Then gave a rough laugh. “You could call it that.”

      George grinned back at him. “So what do you do to survive up here?”

      Alex shrugged. “Whatever’s going. Fish some, when they allow it. Trapping brings in some through the winter. I work construction when I have to. Sometimes the gold mines.”

      “So I take it you’re between jobs right now? That’s why you’re able to just take off?”

      Alex nodded. “Just finished working with a Parks Canada crew, a renovation. Ended just in time to start getting ready for winter.” He pushed his empty glass around. “How long will this take, anyway? Freeze-up isn’t far off.”

      George’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean you plan on going back out to that cabin, even with the inheritance?”

      Alex glanced away. “Hadn’t thought about it, but yeah, probably. It’s where I live.”

      “Maybe you’ll like Seattle.”

      “Doubt it.”

      “A rich man can go anywhere he likes.”

      “I’m still not convinced you’ve got the right guy. If my parents were so rich, why didn’t they leave a will? Why weren’t there relatives to take in a little rich kid? Or at least a guardian or something?”

      George shrugged. “Valid questions. Maybe you’ll find the answers in Seattle.”

      “Yeah, maybe.”

      George was about to respond when a lanky young woman screeched Alex’s name from a couple of tables away. Before he could turn around she’d thrown herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

      “Hey, babe. Where ya bin?”

      Alex grinned at the girl, then flashed a glance at George. “Workin’, Sal.”

      Sal twisted around to peer at George. “Who’s this?”

      George extended his hand across the table. “Name’s George Bronsky.”

      Sal let go of Alex’s neck long enough to shake hands. “Sally. Call me Sal. So you guys in town for a good time or what?”

      “Just a one-nighter. I left a note on your door. We’re leaving tomorrow for Seattle.”

      “Seattle! What for?”

      “Business. Can you check on my dogs? I left the boat at the usual spot.”

      “Sure. No sweat. When ya comin’ back?”

      “Quick. Gotta get my wood in.” Alex’s mouth twisted into a sideways grin. “Wanna help?”

      Sal sat up straight and peered into Alex’s eyes. “You serious?”

      “Sure. I’m tired of cookin’ for myself.”

      Sal tossed her long hair. “Well, I can cook, dude, but you’d be doin’ half of it.”

      Alex dumped her off his lap. “What kind of arrangement is that? A man comes home after a hard day’s work and you tell him to cook his own supper? No way.”

      Sal shook her head, her hands on her hips. “Guess we just wouldn’t make it then, Alex. Too bad. You’re kinda good lookin’, ya know.”

      Alex smirked. Shaking his head he grinned at George. “The Yukon—where men are men—and the women are too!”

      Sal slapped his arm and Alex chuckled. He looked up at her. “What’s up tonight?”

      “I’m headin’ over to Melanie’s pretty quick. Heard there’s a kegger goin’ on. Why dontcha come?”

      Alex glanced at George, then winked at her. “Sure. We’ll show George here some real Yukon hospitality.”

      George was shaking his head. “I…uh, I still have to try and arrange your flight. Then I think I’ll call it a night.”

      Alex’s smirk widened as he stood up. “Somehow I figured you’d say that.”

      Chapter Three

      Back at the detachment Sorensen drummed his long fingers on the open file in front of him. His large frame rocked back and forth as he leaned back in his chair. He stared at the pimply-faced teenager in the small photo clipped to the first page. Twenty-one, Sorensen thought. This perp would be 21 now. And who knows how many more young girls he’d hurt in the past five years. The inspector let his chair snap back to vertical. He turned the pages, scanning for details. “Fee, fi, fo, fum,” he mumbled. “I smell the blood of criminal scum.” He flipped back to the picture, unclipped it, and propped it up on his coffee cup. “They don’t call me the Swedish giant for nothing, Alex Donnelly. And it’s time I sniffed you out.”

      * * *

      George knocked on Alex’s hotel room door at 7:30 the next morning. When there was no answer he knocked louder. A scantily-clad Sal opened it. He stepped back and looked at the floor.

      “Uh, sorry...is Alex up...uh...in?”

      “He’s in, but he’s definitely not up.”

      George knew Sal was enjoying his embarrassment. “Uh...can you tell him our flight leaves at 10:00? So we should be at the airport in less than an hour.”

      “Sure.” She smirked. “I’ll get him dressed.”

      George felt himself turn a deeper shade of pink and Sal