Dalton didn’t even shut the inside door—just the screen.
“You should get a good night’s rest,” he says.
Not even going to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping, are you?I suspect he didn’t mean to be rude—he was listening in case Diana gave me a hard time.
I nod. “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I start for the door again.
“Hold up,” he says. “I’m turning in, too, and we’re going the same way. It’s quieter walking the back route. No one to pester us about the case.”
I’m about to say I’ve never seen anyone even ask him about the case. I think they don’t dare. But this is the second death, nearly on the heels of the others, and people are going to start asking questions. And demanding answers.
We set out, taking his personal highway along the border. I ask how he’s doing, given what we found earlier. He gives me a shrug and an honest “trying to forget it.”
“Marginally successful?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Same here. I know Hastings wasn’t a good person…”
“No one deserves to die like that.”
I nod, and when I go quiet, he gives me that long, cool stare.
“Which doesn’t mean some people don’t deserve to die,” he says. “Just not like that.”
I squirm and veer a little to the side.
“Did you go there planning to shoot him?” he asks.
I realize he means Blaine. “Of course not,” I say before I can stop myself. I take a deep breath. “I’d rather stick to—”
“Blaine Saratori didn’t deserve to die. He deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life and spend weeks in hospital and months in rehab, and never really get over it, not physically, not psychologically. But that wasn’t going to happen. You didn’t plan to shoot him, but it’s bullshit to pretend you killed an innocent man. And it’s bullshit to even think about that in comparison to this.”
“I don’t believe I said I was thinking of it.”
“You were. But I’ll shut up about it. For now.”
“How about for good?”
His snort says, Not a chance. Then he points up. “That was a great horned owl.”
I peer into the night sky.
“It’s gone now,” he says. “I’m changing the conversation. But as long as you’re looking up, do you see that?”
I follow his finger to see a distant strip of swirling green through the clouds.
“Is that…?” I begin. “The northern lights? I didn’t think I’d be far enough up for them.”
“You are. It’s just coming into the right season, so you won’t get a lot of good views yet.”
“What causes it?”
As we continue walking, he explains that it’s electrically charged protons and electrons from the sun entering the earth’s atmosphere at the poles. I’m so engrossed in looking up that I nearly bash into a tree. He gets a chuckle out of that. When we reach my yard, he says, “There’s your fox,” and I see it slipping from the forest edge.
“It’s not mine,” I say, giving him a smile. “Because that would be wrong. A wild animal is not a pet.”
He shrugs. “Can still be yours. Just don’t try domesticating it.”
We watch as the fox trots back to its den with something in its mouth.
“Grouse,” he says.
“Which is a bird, right?”
He sighs.
“Hey, you promised me a book. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Been a little preoccupied. And I’m making sure you actually want it and aren’t just trying to be nice.”
“I’m never nice.”
“You’re always nice, Casey. Or at least you try your damnedest to fake it, because you think that’s what people want from you. Don’t give me that look. If you walk into it, I’m allowed to analyze.”
“Dare I invite you in for coffee?”
“Depends. Are you asking to be polite?”
“No.”
“Then yeah, I’ll take coffee. And don’t ever ask to be polite, because then I’ll say yes and you’ll be stuck with me, and it’ll just be…”
“Awkward?”
“For you. Nothing’s awkward for me.”
I smile. “Well, then, speaking of awkward, I’d be able to see those lights a lot better from my balcony, but that would mean inviting you up to my room.”
“Through your room. It’s not the same thing.”
“True. Is that a yes?”
“It is.”
* * *
We sit on my deck. Literally on my deck, because while I offer to bring up a chair, he refuses and grabs extra blankets from under my bed, which I didn’t know were there. We sit on blankets with more wrapped around us. Or wrapped around me. He seems fine with just the coffee to keep him warm. We sit and we talk, and I watch the northern lights dance, and it doesn’t matter how horrible my day became, this is as damned near perfect an ending as I can imagine. The wolves even start up, as if to prove to me that as good as things get, they can always be better.
Eventually the talking stops, and we just sit and watch and listen, and the next thing I know, I’m waking at dawn with the blankets pulled up to my neck and an extra one draped over me. The deck is empty except for my gun, now lying just out of reach. I smile, take it, and head inside to get ready for work.
* * *
There’s an angry mob outside the station. Well, actually, three somewhat annoyed citizens, but Dalton still intercepts me and takes me in through the back.
“They want a statement, whatever that is,” he says.
“It’s where the police explain the situation, usually to the press.”
“We don’t have press.”
“True, but you really should explain—”
“To three people?” He snorts. “I’ll be doing it all day. Like one of those damned cuckoo clocks.”
“We’ve had two murders in a week. The more you ignore that, the more rumors are going to fly, and soon we really will have an angry—”
“I’m not ignoring them. I’m waiting until there are more so I don’t have to keep explaining. The more times I say it, the more it’ll sound like there’s a serious problem.”
“Um…”
His look darkens. “Fine, there is a serious problem. But they don’t need to know that.”
I open the door and call out, “We’ll be giving a statement at nine. Please make sure everyone knows, because we’re obviously very busy investigating this tragedy.”
Dalton appears behind me. “She means that. You don’t want to spread the word? Fine. But I’ll tell everyone in town that you three know, and I might offer the opinion that it was awfully suspicious, you coming by, looking for information and not wanting to share it with others.”
They’re gone before he can close the door.
I sigh. “That’s not how it’s usually done.”
“Welcome to Rockton, Detective.”
* * *
Back inside the station, I ask Dalton whether Val should join us, and add, “But I understand if you’d rather she didn’t interfere.”
He makes a noise at that. It’s like a snort, but it’s also akin to a laugh. Then he shakes his head and walks to the fireplace.
“Is that a no?” I ask.
Another shake of his head, and I think that’s my answer until he says, “I’m not the least bit worried that Val will interfere, because that would require her to actually show up. You want to walk over and invite her? Go ahead … if you need the exercise.” He lights the fire and puts the kettle over it. “Exercise in futility, too. But go on. Coffee will be ready when you get back.” He checks his watch. “Five minutes there, five minutes back. Ten seconds for her to tell you no.”
Val lives on the edge of town opposite mine. As Dalton said, it’s a five-minute fast walk from the station, and given how freaking cold it is these past few mornings, fast is the only way I move.
Her house is identical to mine. I climb the porch and knock, and here’s where Dalton’s schedule goes off track, because it takes me two full minutes of knocking—and then calling “Val?”—before she opens the door. I think I must have gotten her out of bed, but she’s fully dressed, her hair brushed, a writing pad in hand.
“I know Eric updated you on the situation yesterday,” I say. “We’re making a public statement this morning.”
There’s a long moment of silence, and I begin to wonder if she even heard me. Then she says, “Is that necessary?”
“I believe it is, to keep people calm and informed.”
“All right. If you think that’s best, I trust your judgment.”
“I’d like you to be there.”
Her brows knit. “What for?”
“You’re the spokesperson for the council. Your presence will reassure people.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Detective Butler.”
“I do.”
“Unfortunately, that isn’t your call to make.”
She starts to close the door. I shove my foot in to stop her.
“If you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine,” I say. “I’ll do the talking. But the people of Rockton need all the reassurance they can get, and having you there will help.”
Her lips curve in what can’t quite be called a smile. “The people of Rockton don’t give a damn whether I’m there. They rely on Sheriff Dalton for all their reassurances.”
“Then just show up and stand beside him. Support him. He needs that right now.”
“Sheriff Dalton doesn’t need anything from anyone, Casey. The sooner you realize that, the easier your six months here will be.”
I must have reacted at that, because she says, “You don’t think I know about his little deal with you? As I said, Eric Dalton doesn’t need anything from anyone. Let him run his little Wild West town, keep your head down, and get out of this hellhole as fast as you can. There’s your statement, Detective. Take it and go.”