Isabel looks at us. “It’s both our faults. I had an incident at the bar, and I was delayed. I’d spoken to Nicole and knew she didn’t want to leave Rockton. I failed to convey that to Will. We had a storm and a crisis and no sheriff.” She lifts her hands. “And that’s not parceling out blame. It’s just fact.”
“What’s going on with Nicole?” I say. “Obviously she’s upset about leaving. Is that what we’re dealing with here?”
Anders and Isabel exchange a look.
“She’s barricaded herself in the ice shed,” Isabel says. “Threatening to kill herself if we don’t promise she can stay.”
ELEVEN
I make a beeline for the icehouse. Dalton’s boots thump on the trodden snow behind me as he barks, “Out of her way!”
As I draw near the shed, I see a crouched figure resting against the door, talking to Nicole.
I slow. “What’s Diana doing there?”
“She volunteered as a nurse,” Anders says. “And with the storm, we could best afford to lose the least useful people.”
Which described Diana. I’ve known her half my life. Been her best friend for years. While I’d ostensibly come to Rockton because mobbed-up Leo Saratori finally figured out who killed his grandson, the truth is that I’d been ready to accept my punishment. I’d come here to help Diana escape her abusive ex. Then I discovered she’d gotten back together with that ex and stolen a million bucks from her employer, and that was why we were here.
“I vouched for her,” Isabel says as she catches up. “I won’t say therapy is making Diana a better person, but the only serious danger she poses is to herself. You’ll notice she’s the only volunteer at that door. And she wasn’t even the one who screwed up and let her escape.”
As I approach, Diana rises. I can’t read her expression. No more, I’m sure, than she can read mine. We’ve moved beyond the stage where she vows to destroy me. I’d say that’s comforting, but Isabel’s right—Diana’s only truly a danger to herself, as she always has been. Nowadays, when we can’t avoid each other, we’re like two stiff-legged dogs circling and waiting for the other to lunge. Neither ever lunges. Neither submits, either. We just circle.
“He found you,” Diana says.
“Yep.” I no longer feel the urge to add a smart-ass sorry about your luck. To give her credit, she also resists the urge to throw in a snarky comment about Dalton.
Her gaze flicks over me. Hoping to see some damage from two days in the wild? Or making sure I’m all right? I don’t even try to guess, just nod at the door and say, “Is she talking to you?”
“No. It’s a one-sided conversation. I can hear her in there, though, so she’s okay.”
I move closer to the door. “Nicole? It’s Casey.”
“You’re back.” Her voice drifts out. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thank you. But I’d really like to speak to you, and that’ll be easier if I can come in. It’ll just be me. Unless there’s someone else you’d rather talk to. Eric’s here, too.”
“Can I talk from in here, please? I don’t mean to be rude, but the moment I open that door, they’re all coming in.”
I don’t mean to be rude.
I feel those words, like I felt the ones asking how I was. Her voice is trembling, but there’s no rage there. It’s as if she doesn’t deserve rage. Or simply can’t muster the strength for it.
“They wouldn’t,” I say, “but you don’t know me well enough to be sure of that, so we’ll talk through the door. Will says you want to stay in Rockton.”
“I…” Silence. She tries again. “I…” Another pause. Then “You’re right. This will be easier if I let you in. Can you do me a favor, though?”
“Name it.”
“Tell the others to step back five paces and then say something, so I know they’re not right outside the door.”
They do as she asks. The door opens, and I slide through.
It’s dark inside. The walls are several layers thick for insulation. There’s just a hint of light from under the door. I turn on my flashlight and look around. The building is almost empty. Ice has just started being brought in, kept in a pit scraped down to permafrost and covered with our version of hay for the horses.
The roof is low to minimize warm airflow, and even at not quite five two, I can’t straighten. I start to sit on a hay bale, but Nicole motions for us to move farther in, where the others can’t hear.
When we’re seated, she pulls an ice pick from under her jacket. “I will do it,” she says. “I just want to be clear on that. I know it’d be more convincing if I were freaking out, ranting and waving this around. But”—a wan smile—“I don’t have the energy for that. I just want you to know I will.”
“Okay.”