I say nothing.
She readjusts the books again. “It’s like living in a police state. You’re out there, rousting the usual suspects, accusing Conrad of assaulting an officer.” Her gaze drops to my calf. “Your leg seems fine to me.”
“How’d you know it was my leg?”
She hesitates. Another book shift. “Everyone knows. Someone broke into Will Anders’s place, knocked Marissa down, and stabbed you in the leg.”
“Huh. Well, the message we sent out was that the intruders disabled Marissa and attacked me with a knife. The only people who know where I was stabbed are Dalton and my sister. Well, except the actual person who stabbed me. Your boyfriend got a bit chatty, huh?”
She startles back. “Boyfriend? I don’t have—”
“Conrad.”
Her laugh takes on a rabbit squeal of nervous fear. “W-what? Conrad? N-no.”
“So you’re not involved with Conrad?” I meet her gaze. “Remember who you are speaking to and answer carefully. Very carefully.”
She isn’t on a witness stand. I haven’t read Gloria her rights. Still, when I say that, she quivers as if a lie will smite her with a lightning bolt from the heavens.
She finally lifts her chin. “There’s no law against keeping our relationship a secret. You know what this town’s like. People love to drag out everyone’s laundry and wave it around for a few moments of entertainment.”
“Like posting it on a sign for the whole town to see?”
She has the grace to color at that. “That’s different. Deputy Anders committed murder. We trusted him, and he betrayed us.”
“No, the council betrayed you when they hired him knowing his background. But let’s not split hairs. You’re dating Conrad, and he asked you to post that sign under the movie poster.”
“What?” Another rabbity shriek, her built-in lie detector giving her away again. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I sigh. “You volunteered to put up the movie sign. I have confirmation of that and confirmation of you borrowing the ladder and of you putting it up. The sign about Will was underneath. You affixed the movie poster loosely, so it’d fall off.”
Her mouth works. “How-how—”
“I’d love to claim awesome detective work, but the truth is that, like so many wannabe criminal masterminds, your boyfriend can’t resist bragging and laughing about how you did his dirty work for him. If anyone goes down for it, it’ll be you, and since no one knows you two are a couple, he can deny everything. Hilarious, isn’t it?”
Her mouth works, and I feel a little sorry for her. There isn’t a split second where she thinks I’m lying. This is what she expects. What she’s learned to expect. And maybe, deep down, she knew Conrad was using her, but she told herself otherwise. I’m confirming her worst fears, and that’s a shitty thing to do, but putting up that sign was a shittier thing.
“You thought you were doing the right thing,” I say, my voice softening. “If our deputy killed someone, then people should know about it. Conrad convinced you he was seeing justice served.”
She doesn’t reply, just keeps her gaze down, her body quivering under my words.
“I can understand that, Gloria,” I say. “But the part that bothers me most is the message itself. Will was a soldier with a mental-health issue brought on by war. Saying he ‘lost his marbles’ and should be in a ‘loony bin’ is ignorant and insensitive and—”
“Conrad wrote it,” she blurts. “He worded it like that. I…” She shivers. “I told him it was wrong, and he laughed and said…” Another shiver. Then her gaze lifts to mine. “What do I need to do now?”
TEN
Well, I have my witness. I find one of the militia outside and ask him to escort Gloria to Phil, who can take her statement. My job is to find Conrad before he catches wind of our conversation.
For that, I get a tip from Gloria. I could feel guilty about tricking her into thinking he mocked her. But from the way she believed it—and the way she talked about him mocking her over the sign wording—I suspect my lie hadn’t been far off the truth. Conrad used booze to seduce a recovered alcoholic and then set her up to take the fall for his crime.
Gloria had been with Conrad earlier when he’d gotten a note from a fan who had dirt on two more residents. The meeting was supposed to take place in the forest at eight. When I check my watch, it’s 7:56.
I collect Storm and ask Dalton to witness Gloria’s statement with Phil. He’d rather go with me. I need that witness, though, and we obviously can’t ask Anders to do that. Nor can I ask Anders to accompany me. He must remain outside this investigation to avoid impropriety.
“I’ll snag someone to come with me,” I call as I jog off with Storm.
“You better!”
As I run with the dog, I survey the town. It’s still a few hours from dark. Plenty of people about. None suit my needs. I need a militia member or Petra, even Mathias would do. Hell, I’d settle for Diana, who isn’t much in the way of backup, but she’s really good at screaming for help.
I have Storm. She’s at least as good as half my human options. I’m sending up a silent apology to Dalton for contravening his order when a voice says, “Casey? We need to talk.”
I turn to see Jen.
“Perfect,” I say. “Walk and talk. I need backup.”
She pauses. “What?”
I wave her over, not pausing my jog. She catches up, and says, “We need to talk, Casey. Now.”
“Does it have something to do with Conrad meeting a mysterious informant in the woods?”
“No.”
“Then it can wait.” I slow outside Conrad’s place and ask Storm to pick up his trail. She does so readily. His trail had been important to me last night, and so she understands what I want.
As she snuffles about, people slow to watch. I ignore them. I can no longer worry whether it looks as if I’m zeroed in on Conrad.
“What’s this about Conrad and an informant?” Jen asks, her voice low, uncharacteristically discreet. I motion that I’ll explain once we’re out of town. Storm finds the scent. It goes exactly where I expect, making a beeline for the first path to the town border trail.
If there’s a cardinal rule for Rockton residents, it’s “Don’t go in the forest.” That may seem to oversell the danger, but experience has taught every Rockton sheriff to enforce that rule above all others. If you want to explore the wilderness, then join a hike or a fishing trip or a logging crew. Otherwise, you are restricted to this trail, which meanders around town, granting privacy while remaining within shouting distance of help.
There’s no one in this particular section, so when Storm pauses to tease out Conrad’s scent, I turn to Jen.
“Conrad—” I begin.
“It’s him,” she blurts. “He’s the one who made up the sign.”
“Please tell me that is the result of keen detective work, and not that you’ve been sitting on it this entire time.”
Her flush answers for her.