“Don’t give me that look,” she says. “It’s true. You’re the interesting one. You’re the messed-up one. Somehow that combination is catnip. You came along, and suddenly Will isn’t interested in a return visit to my bed and Petra’s found herself a brand new friend.”
Which is bullshit. Anders had a one-nighter with Diana, but even before I showed up, he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in more. He’d seen her damage and decided to steer clear. As for Petra, it was Diana who’d given her the cold shoulder, and then she got pissy when Petra and I started hanging out. But all the council-mandated therapy with Isabel isn’t ever going to convince Diana she’s not the wronged party.
“The back door…,” I prod.
“That’s what I’m getting at. You know I don’t like Petra. You came here for me, and then when we had hit a rough patch, she jumped in. It’s like stealing someone’s husband during a trial separation. You just don’t do that.”
I’m not even sure where to begin untangling that mess of self-delusion.
She continues, “If I tell you that the back door was cracked open, it’s going to sound like maybe I opened it and let your puppy out, just to be spiteful.”
“So the back door was open.”
“I would never let your dog out, Casey. Never. Whatever I’ve done, I haven’t ever hurt anyone.”
I stay silent. This isn’t the time to rehash history. But she knows what I would say and responds with, “Kurt was a mistake. I didn’t like the guy. I thought he was using you. The ex-con and the cop? It was an obvious setup. Either he was planning a crime and wanted your alibi or he knew you had money and was conning you.”
“Neither. He was just a guy trying to put his life back—”
“Whatever. The point is that I didn’t hurt him. I didn’t plan for him to get hurt either. Graham hired that guy. He told me he was just supposed to scare you, wave a gun, fire a warning shot. I told myself that thug shot Kurt by accident, but you know what? I don’t think it was a mistake. I think that’s what Graham hired him for. He lied to me. He was playing me the whole time.”
“Okay…”
“I would never hurt your dog. It’s a puppy. I’m not going to open the door. Let her get eaten by bears? Hope you find her mangled corpse? That’s sick. You and I have been friends for fifteen years, Case. As angry as you are you know I would never do that to any animal.”
I rub my temples, trying to push back the drug fog.
“If you honestly think—” she begins.
“Diana? Stop. Please. I haven’t accused you of anything. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m trying to think. You found the back door ajar. By how much? Enough for Storm to squeeze out?”
“No. She might be a baby, but she’s a big baby. It was only open a couple of inches. I figure maybe Petra didn’t quite close it, and Storm nudged it open. Then it must have shut partly behind her. There’s a wind today.”
Maybe so, but “wind” in Rockton is never the kind that’ll slam a heavy door shut. The town’s too small, hemmed in by trees.
I walk to the balcony railing and shine my flashlight down.
“If you’re looking for a trail, there isn’t one,” Diana says. “That’s the first thing I checked. But the porch is covered in prints. Paw and boot prints from people taking Storm out all night.”
“Her leash gives her ten feet of room,” I say. “The trick is just to find where her paws lead and no boot prints follow.” I head back into the bedroom and grab a sweater and Dalton’s backup gun.
“You’re not—” Diana begins.
“Yep, I am. Sorry.”
I head down the steps. While I’m still woozy enough that I use the railing, I’m too drugged and preoccupied to feel the pain. As I pull on my parka, my shoulder does protest, but I cover my wince.
“She must have joined up with a human trail and followed that,” Diana continues. “To find her that way, you’d need a tracking dog. Which is what you will have this time next year, Casey. You’ll find Storm, and you’ll train her, and this will all be nothing more than a lesson learned. Devon says we need to get her a tracking implant. Which wouldn’t be a bad idea for everyone here. I don’t know why they haven’t thought of it.”
“Eric tested one. It works about as well as our damned radios.” I glance over at her. “Speaking of radios, does Eric know Storm’s out there?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell—”
“No, you’re right. Better to not distract him.”
I’m standing in the kitchen, one hand on the back door. I stop.
Benjamin. Snow. Puppy.
I turn to Diana. “There’s no actual proof Storm took off, right?”
Diana gives a slow look around the tiny kitchen. “Even a dog can’t hide in this place. I think you need to go back to bed and rest—”
“I mean there’s no proof she left on her own.”