Tell me anything.
I get as far as “Do you ever—” and he cuts me off with “I don’t know where my parents got the books, but it wasn’t from Rockton.” He checks his watch. “We’re losing daylight fast. I’ve got a few things to do. I’ll meet you in a half hour, and we’ll get Storm for a walk.”
*
Dalton and I are walking the puppy. It’s twilight, and we’re in the forest, taking her farther than she’s gone before. I have something on my mind. He knows, and that’s why we’re here.
He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong. The guy who usually demands hard answers to uncomfortable questions now walks quietly at my side, murmuring to Storm when she wanders, voice low so he doesn’t interrupt my thoughts. The guy who drags people through town by the scruff of their neck now has his glove off, my hand wrapped in his, thumb rubbing every so often, a small gesture of comfort. The guy who doesn’t have time for your shit—and no problem telling you so, loudly and profanely—now crouches patiently by the side of the path, holding back undergrowth so Storm can sniff a fox hole. I watch him hunkered there, pointing at spots for the puppy to sample, and I suspect I’ll never figure him out entirely, and I don’t care. Dalton is like Rockton itself, so many aspects, not all of them easy or comfortable, but the sum total adding up to something unique and remarkable and unforgettable.
When he rises, I tell him Nicole’s story. All of it.
“It bothers me,” I say when I’m done. “I don’t know why. It’s not like I have any sense that she’s lying…”
“That’s not it.”
Dalton stops, his hand tightening on mine. He scans the twilit forest before glancing at Storm. She’s picked up his unease, and she’s sampling the wind but seems to smell nothing out of the ordinary.
When we resume walking, he says, “It’s her situation. She murdered a guy who did something to her, something that deserved punishment, but not that severe a punishment. And she got away with it.”
We walk a few more steps, before I say, “She didn’t actually kill—”
“Splitting hairs. Yours was bad judgment. Taking a gun to a confrontation? Never a good idea. Nicole made her choice deliberately.”
“But she warned her brother. She didn’t plan for him to die.”
“You confronted Blaine with a gun to spook him, prove you were serious. A threat that went as bad as it can go. In your case and Nicole’s. That’s what makes you uncomfortable. You hear her story, and you think it’s forgivable. Yet if her situation parallels your own, what does that mean for you?”
“I need to separate the cases.”
“Or you could—crazy idea—confront and reconcile the problem? Admit that on a culpability scale for murder, killing Blaine only rates about five.”
“I need to separate the cases.”
He sighs. “Fine, so moving on to the other part that’s bothering you…”
He’s gone still again. He doesn’t stop moving, but he’s scanning the darkening forest. When I squint into the trees, I sense nothing. Neither does Storm, who’s trotting along ahead of us.
Dalton shakes it off and says, “The problem is the fact that accusing her of voluntarily living in that hole is preposterous. Especially without a motive. So you’re wondering why the council gave it to you.”
“You don’t actually need a detective, do you?”
“Sure, I do, because my answer is ‘because they’re assholes.’ I’m gonna guess you need more.”
“I do. It’s like they expect we’ll be so freaked out by this that we’ll jump on any other explanation, however flimsy.”
“Or they’re jumping on it.”
“Why? Is it just because terrible crimes are terribly inconvenient? Like trying to cover up a murder in a fancy hotel?”
“Maybe.”
“It bugs me.”
“I know.”
I’m about to say more when he tenses again, his eyes narrowing. This time, I ask, “What do you see?”
He takes another slow look around. Then he makes a face. “Nothing. Just jumpy.”
“Are you sure?”
Another scan. “Mostly.”
I take out my gun. “If you think there’s someone out there, we should investigate.”
He looks from me to Storm and then back at the forest.
“We’re not going to tromp in there with a gun and a puppy when it’s just me being rattled,” he says. “We should head back. It’s almost dark, and we didn’t bring a flashlight.”
He looks at my gun as I put it away. “Good to see you’re okay with pulling that. Proves you’re capable of progress. Just very slowly.”
I flip him the finger. He tugs the glove from my pocket and holds it out. “Wouldn’t want that to get frostbite.”
I shake my head and put on one glove, my other hand going into his. As we leave, I cast one last glance around the forest as he’s tugging Storm onto the path.
I don’t see anyone. Don’t hear anyone. Don’t even sense anyone. But if Dalton did? Someone’s there, watching us. I know it.