“You’re the detective. Can they pin this on you? I’m sure you’ve thought of that.”
I nod slowly. “Many times. It was presumed Blaine was killed by the same guys who beat me. They attacked us because Blaine was selling drugs on their turf. He escaped. I got the beating, and they caught up with him later. That makes sense.”
“It does.”
“And since they never found those guys, it’s the kind of case where the detectives consider it solved. I don’t know what evidence they had. I would guess it was very little. I was questioned at the time, but only to see whether I could give more details on my attackers, presuming they’d also killed Blaine. I’d been the victim of a brutal attack, and I’d never openly blamed Blaine for it. I wasn’t a suspect. Ever.”
He relaxes. “Okay, then. They can threaten to give your name to the police, but it wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“How much does that matter?” I say as I turn to face him.
He frowns.
I continue, “I’m not afraid of going to prison. That wouldn’t happen unless I confessed. It’s the threat that matters. It could keep me from getting a job in law enforcement, which I don’t expect to ever need again, but I want that option. It’s also possible that they don’t plan to tip off the police at all. That the threat is about Leo Saratori.”
“Blaine’s grandfather, right? Organized crime?”
I nod. “That was the reason I came here. I wasn’t afraid of being arrested. I was tricked into thinking Saratori was after me, hurting people close to me. That’s the real danger.”
“Not while you’re up here.”
When I don’t answer, he says, “Yeah, I know that isn’t your point. You mean that we can’t ignore the threat. It’s not as good as the council seems to think, but it still has teeth.”
“Yes.”
He leans back against the sofa. “So we take the threat seriously. We do as they say. Don’t investigate Jolene’s death as a murder. Investigate it as an accident. She went into the forest and died, and we’re trying to figure out how that happened when we know she hated the wilderness.”
I nod slowly.
He continues, “The council doesn’t need to know you’re investigating her ‘accident.’ If they have spies we haven’t turned?” He shrugs. “What does it matter?”
He puts one arm around my shoulders. “That’ll be our motto for the next few weeks. What does it matter? We need to shift our thinking that way. We’re like lab rats who’ve been electroshocked into submission. Don’t do this, or we’ll get in trouble. Don’t do that, or they’ll ship us out. Doesn’t matter now.”
“Even if they have a spy here, it isn’t worth giving me shit for investigating Jolene’s so-called accidental death. The point is that I’m not causing trouble. I’m not making waves. The town is shutting down as expected, and I’m doing nothing to stop that.”
“Yep. So let’s come up with a fake-death story for Jolene, bring in the others on it, and start spreading the word.”
* * *
The story we come up with is as simple as possible. Early this morning, a member of the militia reported finding Jolene’s body not far outside the town borders. Cause of death remains unknown, but we are considering it death by misadventure.
Anders and April obviously know the truth, but if anyone asks, “No comment” would be their usual line anyway. Kenny knows we found Jolene’s body, and he probably suspects it was murder, but he isn’t going to ask us to confirm that. Petra and Sebastian know Jolene was buried alive, which is very obviously not “death by misadventure,” but they won’t tell anyone. That closes all loopholes without us needing to ask anyone to lie.
We do not call a meeting. There has been quite enough of that, and from recent experience I must accept that our residents are no longer the ones I’ve dealt with in the past. Someone will question us, just for the sake of making trouble, and it’ll go downhill from there.
We send the story out with a few key people who will pass it along, and if any rumors start, well, it’s back to our new motto: What does it matter? Those most likely to spread stories are already scheduled to leave tomorrow. Let them talk. No one’s going to care.
I have a list of residents I want to speak to now that Jolene’s disappearance turned fatal. It might even help that I’m not saying she was murdered—it’ll keep suspects from getting defensive.
Step one is to check on Brandon and Conrad. Is there any way either of them got out?
The answer seems to be no. There’s always doubt, but not a reasonable amount. Brandon has been in the cell the entire time. Anders and Dalton themselves have been bringing his meals and taking away his chamber pot. They have the keys to the cell, which have been on their person the entire time.
Conrad has been in his duplex, under guard. Someone has been inside his room the entire time, meaning he didn’t sneak out his window. We’ve had problems with guarding residents before, and in his case, it was easy to say that he needed round-the-clock “medical” care.
I speak to everyone who has watched Conrad in the last twenty-four hours. He’s gone as far as the bathroom, but never for more than ten minutes. Is it possible his guard fell asleep and he slipped out to meet with Jolene and murdered her? Possible, but unlikely. Conrad’s bluster is long gone, and he just wants out of Rockton, preferably before he has to face anyone who believed in his fake cause.
Next up? Marissa. The last person to see Jolene, and the person whose behavior puts her at the top of my suspect list. I had to check out Brandon and Conrad, but that was just ticking off boxes. It’s Marissa I want.
And it’s Marissa I don’t get.
I spend the rest of the damned day chasing her. Which is ridiculous in a town this small. Or it would be under normal circumstances. With the impending closure, everything is in disarray. Tomorrow, two planes will arrive a few hours apart, and each can carry seven residents. Two more will follow every day until we are down to the skeletal closing-up crew. That’s over ten percent of our population disappearing daily. We’ll be at half capacity in five days and down to that cleanup crew in just over a week. Also, anyone who’s leaving soon does not expect to spend their final days working.
What does it matter?
If I don’t show up for work today, what are you going to do? Withhold credits I won’t need? Throw me in that tiny cell with Brandon? Give me a stern talking-to?