I sputter, unable to find words.
“Conrad is not a likable man,” she says. “I acknowledge that. He has made things difficult for Phil, as I’ve witnessed firsthand. However, I believe that has influenced your investigation, Casey, along with the fact that he’s leading the coalition to remove Will.”
“Fuck you.”
She blinks in genuine surprise. “What?”
“Don’t pull that lawyer bullshit here, Marissa. I’ve investigated my colleagues when the evidence even slightly pointed in their direction. I’ve given the benefit of the doubt to people who pissed me off far more than Conrad ever could. Hell, I argued to allow Jen in the militia. Questioning police competence is a textbook defense attorney tactic, but don’t you dare pull that here. Conrad is my main suspect because the evidence points to him. His trail goes from Will’s to his place.”
“Someone’s trail does. Can Storm prove it was him?”
“Yes, she can and she did last night, in front of a witness. There’s also the bloody shirt.”
“His blood, as he said.”
“I intend to prove otherwise.”
“If you do, then we only have your say-so on that.”
“Excuse me?”
She gives me a look, as if I’m a not-too-clever child. “You’re the one conducting the test. You’re the one receiving the results. Don’t expect us to allow that into evidence.”
“Then someone else will conduct the test.”
“Who? The doctor, who is your sister? The nurse, who is your former best friend?”
I meet her gaze. “You know Conrad did it. He attacked you. He stabbed me. And yet you’re going to defend him? How much is he paying you?”
“This isn’t about money, Casey. It’s about doing what’s right for this community. Whoever did those things did so out of fear.”
“Fear?” I choke on the word. “Fear of what?”
“Will Anders. I will argue that the break-in was committed by someone who feared for their safety.”
“And wanted to hurt Will? Kill him before he kills them? You do hear what you’re saying, don’t you, Marissa? That Will deserved to have his chalet broken into, and if he’d been killed, he brought it on himself.”
“I said nothing of the sort. I understand you’re upset, Casey, but I’m asking that you not allow your feelings to interfere with your job.”
“Marissa,” Phil says, his voice heavy with warning. “Casey’s right. You’re attempting to discredit her. I presume you’re practicing for a jury, as your only audience here is me, and I am well aware of Detective Butler’s record of performance. The only person you’re lowering in my estimation is yourself.”
“I’m calling into question the dynamics of this particular case. Also, while Casey has been an excellent detective in Rockton, I have no way of knowing how she performed down south. I don’t even know whether she was actually a police detective there.”
“Do you really want to go there, Marissa?” I say. “Think carefully.”
Her eyes harden. “Don’t patronize me, Casey. I’m making a valid point.”
“I was exactly a detective on a major crimes squad, actively employed when I came to Rockton to help Diana. Since you insisted on going there, though…” I look at Phil. “I presume you’re aware that Marissa was under threat of disbarment before her arrival in Rockton.”
At her sharp inhale, I turn on her. “How hard was that hit on the head? I asked if you wanted to go there. I warned you.”
If looks could kill …
No, that’s not right. The look in Marissa’s eyes isn’t anger. It’s hurt, and I’d prefer the former. While I don’t know what happened to her down south, she did confess she’s been in danger of losing her career. So yes, telling Phil is a shitty thing to do, but obviously she isn’t the person I thought she was. Conrad has promised her something, and she’s willing to throw Anders under the bus to get it, and there is no justifying that.
“I think you should leave now, Marissa,” Phil says, his voice low.
“I came to inform you—”
“Consider us informed.”
Her jaw sets. She looks between us for a moment, and then turns on her heel and marches out.
SEVEN
Marissa isn’t dropping the matter there. Later that morning, she files an application to speak to the council. There is no such application process, just as there is no formal judicial process. She knows that. If we pointed it out, though, she’d only use it as proof of a corrupt system.
I warn Anders before he hears it through the grapevine. His only response—after ten seconds of stunned silence—is “Well, I guess I don’t need to feel so guilty about her getting clocked on the head at my place.”
True enough. I have no idea what to make of this. I expected better of Marissa. I really did. But it’s hardly the first time someone here has disappointed me. That’s the true reveal in Rockton. Not discovering someone lied about their background or committed a crime in their past. It’s finding out they aren’t the person you thought they were, their underlying character hidden behind a false front.
As outraged as I may be at the thought that Marissa is defending—literally defending—the guy who attacked her, I have other concerns. I do run the blood-typing test, with April overseeing the procedure and a random resident called in to witness the result. It’s my blood type, and it’s not Conrad’s. He stabbed me.
So what do I do with that? Not a damn thing. If Marissa doesn’t care that her new client attacked her, that’s her problem, and I don’t care enough about punishing him for attacking me.
I want to focus on who put up that sign. They’re the real enemy, especially if the council is behind it. Find the culprit, and I can discredit their intentions and help Anders that way.
Which puts me right back to square one, admitting I have zero clues to lead me to that culprit.
I spend most of my day interviewing potential witnesses, based on the lists Dalton and Kenny drew up yesterday. Half of them have changed their mind about what they saw.
Did I say I spotted a person near the podium after eleven that night? Sorry, I meant I saw someone there the night before. Or maybe even the night before that.
I want to shake people and tell them to grow a backbone. Don’t be intimidated by Conrad and Jolene and their flunkies. Yet fear is a powerful thing, and fear in a small community spreads like wildfire. I remember doing a case study on a town in Saskatchewan where the police charged a dozen people—including fellow officers—in connection with a so-called Satanic cult based on zero evidence. It’d been panic, pure and simple. The devil was at work, their children were at risk, and if you disagreed, then maybe you were part of it.
If you see a problem with someone revealing Deputy Anders’s crime, then maybe you have something to hide yourself. Even if you don’t, well, a few whispers in the right ears will change that. You’ll be a suspect, and you don’t want that, do you?