I need to let him have his grief and not jump in to fix it. So I just sit there, holding his hand and letting him feel whatever he needs to feel. When he’s ready to talk, he will.
* * *
An hour later, we are talking … about training Storm to signal when she locates whoever’s trail we’ve put her on. Yes, it has nothing to do with the current situation, and that is the point. It doesn’t matter whether we stay in Rockton or not, this is still training we might want for her. That makes it a safe topic of discussion while we distance ourselves from the rest. We get twenty minutes of that before Anders is at our door.
I open it, and he’s standing there, hands in his pockets, looking exactly like I felt an hour ago, not knowing what to say.
“How’s he doing?” he asks.
I make a face and shrug, and he nods, understanding Dalton is doing as well as can be expected.
“So,” Anders continues. “Phil called a meeting.”
I sigh so deeply my knees quiver as I lean against the doorframe.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s why I volunteered to come get you. Say the word, and I will make your excuses.”
“No,” Dalton says as he walks from the living room. “Phil told us that he was calling a meeting, and we didn’t stop him.”
“Give us ten minutes to freshen up,” I say, and wave for Anders to come inside.
* * *
We’re walking through town, the three of us moving fast enough that everyone knows we’re on a mission, and no one interferes.
“Phil mentioned they’re blaming me,” Anders says, his voice low. “My confession.”
“Phil should keep his damned mouth shut,” Dalton grumbles.
“He also said they’re blaming you and Casey and him and everyone but themselves. And that all that is just a smokescreen for the fact they jumped on this as an excuse to tell you what you already knew. That they were shutting us down.”
Dalton grunts.
“I’m not looking for you to tell me it isn’t my fault,” Anders says. “I’m just saying that I realize they said that, which means they may want me on one of those early flights as a troublemaker.”
“They’d better not try,” Dalton says.
“If they do, we’ll need a backup plan. Probably me disappearing into the forest. I could, uh, stay in Brent’s old cave but, uh, I’d really rather I wasn’t sent out there alone.”
Dalton nods. “Tyrone and Jacob are both close enough to call in.”
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Anders says. “But I think we need to be prepared for who they might include on those early flights and what we’re going to do about it.”
* * *
We’re in the Roc. We need to go around the back, because Isabel has locked the front doors. I see the patio still in disarray, chairs knocked over. I imagine residents trying to help clean it up and Isabel shooing them away.
I stare at the mess, and it seems symbolic of what is to come. Is there even any point righting the chairs? Clearing away the glass? Scrubbing the blood from the wood? Any point in finding someone to tend bar when everyone will be gone within a fortnight?
I pause there, staring at the blood on the deck. It nudges a thought deep within me, one that doesn’t take form, and I shove it aside.
Anders holds the door, and we go into the darkened room. All the blinds have been shut, and it smells of stale beer. It’s never smelled like that before. It might look as rough as a Western saloon, but Isabel keeps it in tip-top shape, with the sawdust swept and replaced regularly.
Another task that has now been rendered moot.
Unnecessary.
The room is so hushed that it takes a moment to realize anyone’s there. I glance around at the faces. Kenny. Isabel. Phil. Mathias. Petra.
Kenny walks over to us. “April couldn’t make it. I only told her that the word came down and the closure is happening faster than we expected, and she suddenly had a lot of cleaning to do and couldn’t possibly join us.”
I nod.
“I figured it’s best to leave her to that for now,” he says. “Would you agree?”
I nod again. The news has thrown my sister off kilter, and that is disturbing to her in a way I can only try to comprehend. She will deal with the disorganization through organization. Controlling what can be controlled.
There are two empty chairs at the front table, and Dalton heads there. I start for a seat at a table with Petra and Mathias, but Anders brushes past me with, “You’re over there, Case.”
When I hesitate, he dips his chin, acknowledging that I’m uncomfortable taking a seat at the front when he’s been here longer. Except for Phil, everyone has been here longer. When I’ve charged forward, putting myself in the center of town business, it’s always been as Dalton’s supporter. Or that’s how I intended it. Now it feels as if I’ve stepped above my station.
“Take it,” Anders says. “We need you up there.”
I’m still slow to move, even as Dalton frowns my way, wondering why I’m not already sitting beside him.
Even after I sit, no one says a word. Dalton glances my way, and I realize he’s waiting for me to begin. I may not feel I’ve earned this spot at the head table, but what I have earned is Dalton’s trust. He trusts me to speak for him.
When I lead the town meetings, I’ve always been very aware that I’m speaking on behalf of the law-enforcement agency of Rockton. A PR rep, nothing more. Dalton isn’t comfortable in the role of communicator, and in Rockton, he shouldn’t play that part. He is the voice of absolute authority here, and the person on that podium must be more conciliatory, more reasonable. More feminine? Maybe it seems so, but Anders could do the job just as well.
Dalton’s projected image means he should not be “lowering himself” to explaining anything to the residents. It’s also personality. Even here, among friends, he’d rather I ran with this meeting. He trusts me to run with it, and so I must.
“Phil has explained the situation, I’m sure,” I begin.
“I’ve relayed the conversation with Tamara, in as much detail as I can recall.”
I pass him a small smile. “In other words, you’ve relayed everything. So that’s where we stand. The council has finally admitted they’re shutting us down, and they’re using the current situation as an excuse.”
“Reminds me of my first summer job,” Isabel says. “My employer concocted a firing-worthy offense against me, when the truth was that she just didn’t like me very much. My real crime was that I’d made the unforgivable error of pointing out all the flaws in her business model.”
“Yep,” I say. “We’ve been complaining too much about these criminals they keep tossing our way. We’re endangering their business model. émilie has said that she suspects they aren’t shutting down the business model. Just the town. Relocating.”
“To a new place, run by suckers who don’t realize they’re dealing with serial killers,” Kenny mutters.
I shrug. “Or maybe being paid enough that they don’t care. Rockton has evolved into something different, and we aren’t the right kind of law enforcement for it.”