“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That’s all I said. Conrad was only interested in you five, and I’ve got nothing else. Phil’s too uptight to do anything wrong. Isabel might have, but she’s sure as hell not telling anyone. Eric inherited his job. No secret there. And you’re Saint Casey, who came here to support her double-crossing BFF and didn’t even send the bitch packing when you learned the truth.”
I’m glad to hear Jen didn’t have anything more to give Conrad, but it’s only a temporary reprieve. Conrad is meeting another source right now. He’s desperate for dirt on those he thinks have wronged him. Someone wanting to catch his ear just needs to claim they have information on Phil or Dalton. How do we fight lies? That’s one reason Anders admitted to his past. Nothing he said would convince people he was innocent.
Even if he were innocent, it’s not as if he can show proof. Part of that is the lack of internet or phones, but part, too, is just the difficulty of proving a thing did not happen. If someone says Dalton murdered a resident ten years ago, how does he prove otherwise? They could claim Phil was a serial killer, and it would be our word against theirs, ours counting for very little these days.
I’m fretting about this when I catch the murmur of a male voice. I go still. Storm lifts her head and sniffs. Then she whines, tail wagging, and my heart sinks.
Whoever Conrad is meeting? It’s someone Storm likes.
ELEVEN
This is the hell of working in a tiny town, one that has become home. With every case I investigate, there is a very good chance that the perpetrator will be someone I like. I will never forget the pain of arresting a friend, something I likely would have never experienced in big-city policing.
Residents may think I’m going after Conrad too hard, and I suspect they’re partly right. It isn’t malicious glee fueling my pursuit. It’s the relief that my culprit is someone I’d happily see gone. Everyone wants the bad guys to be assholes. Especially me.
Storm likes whoever’s ahead, and she does not like Conrad, which means she’s hearing or smelling whoever set up this meeting.
Damn it.
I motion for Jen to wait with Storm. I’ll never rival Dalton for tracking, but Jen is about as stealthy as my hundred-and-thirty-pound Newfoundland. Storm side-eyes Jen, considering my request. I motion again, telling her it’s not actually a request, and a sigh ripples her jowls.
Jen is not a dog person. Bad early experience, according to the bare minimum she told me to explain why she once kicked Storm away. I could say that’s why Storm doesn’t care for her, but I held that grudge far longer than my dog. Storm just isn’t keen on people who aren’t keen on her, which is an understandable choice, whether you’re human or canine.
Storm takes up position beside Jen, and I continue into the forest. I catch two voices, male and female, too far for me to make out more. The male must be Conrad, meaning the woman is his mysterious supporter—and the resident Storm likes. My mind wants to run through a checklist of possibilities, but I pull it up short. I’ll see soon enough. Speculation only muddies the waters.
I apply all my Dalton lessons as I creep through the forest. Stay downwind. Even humans can notice unusual scents on the breeze. Don’t walk through open areas, or you might be spotted. It’s better camouflage to squeeze through saplings and bushes. Also, foliage above the ground is usually alive, meaning you don’t need to worry about the crackle of dead branches and leaves. That comes from underfoot. If you must step down on dead flora, slide into it.
I can see the figures now. They’re walking on a path, one behind the other. Moving and no longer speaking. Heading toward Rockton.
Shit. I’d hoped to catch them talking. That gave me a reason to confront them. This way, they’ll only claim they were out for a walk, and if I want to fine them for leaving the border trail, go ahead.
I ease back the way I came. I’m getting ahead of them in hopes I’ll hear something incriminating while they walk. There’s nothing, though. Just the tramp of feet. Then a woman’s soft laugh.
I know that laugh.
The male voice says something low and almost inaudible. The woman murmurs that she thought she saw a snake, and it was just a tree branch, obviously, because there are no snakes in the Yukon.
I know that voice. It tugs happiness in its wake. I like this person, and I associate their voice with good things. Shit. Not what I want.
When I can’t make a connection, I creep closer, hoping to see more than dark-clad figures. Then the man speaks again, teasing the woman, and I stop short as I break into a grin.
I ease back in the other direction and then slip out behind them on the path. I creep up almost close enough to tap the man on the back before he wheels, eyes widening.
I sigh. “You’re supposed to go for your weapon, Jacob.” I nod at the woman in front of him, brandishing a knife. “See, Nicole knows how to do it. You are a shitty survivalist, and I am totally telling your brother on you.”
Jacob grins and catches me up in a hug. Dalton’s younger brother looks enough like him that there’s no mistaking the shared DNA. Yet I’m not surprised he didn’t go for a weapon when he sensed someone at his shoulder. There’s an innocence in Jacob, a gentleness that his brother shares but keeps well hidden.
I hug Nicole next. At first, I’m careful not to squeeze too hard, but she pulls me in for a fierce embrace.
“I’m just pregnant, Casey,” she says.
I look down at her stomach. She’s five months along and was supposed to have her first prenatal appointment six weeks ago.
“So you finally showed up,” I say.
“I’m fine. We were taking advantage of good hunting.” She glances at Jacob. “At my insistence. I reasoned that we should hunt while we can, stock up on food and fur, and then overwinter near Rockton, as planned.” She looks at me. “Acceptable?”
“If it means you’ll be here for the birth, yes.”
Jacob says, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll be as close as we can, in case of complications.”
“Oh, I don’t care about complications,” I say. “I just want to be around when the baby comes. I’m going to be an auntie. It’s all about me.”
Nicole laughs and hugs me again. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’d say the same, but then I might also be forced to give you more shit for not coming around sooner.”
“I know, I know.” She backs up against Jacob, and his arms go around her. “We were busy honeymooning.”
I look down at her stomach. “I see that.”
I’m about to say more when I remember what I’m supposed to be doing.
“Shit,” I say. “I’m out here to foil a secret meeting, and then my targets turned out to be you guys, and I forgot the whole damn thing.”
“Blame us.”