A Darkness Absolute (Casey Duncan #2)

“What?” I say as I yank on my jeans.

Kenny starts to turn, saying, “She—” and then remembers why he’s facing the door, his memory goosed by a fresh snarl from Dalton.

“It’s fine,” I say as I yank on my shirt. “I’m decent enough. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He half turns, facing the wall instead. “Val woke up and started screaming. Paul was passing on patrol. He raced in. Val was hysterical.” He glances at me. “I’m not supposed to use that word, right?”

“It works here. Just keep going.” I’m at the front door now, yanking on my boots, and Dalton’s handing me my parka.

“Val said there was a man in her room. She said it was”—he looks at Dalton—“Eric.”

“What?” Dalton says.

“Obviously it wasn’t you. It happened five minutes ago, and…” He gestures toward the blankets in front of the fire. “So I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s demanding to see Casey. And not…”

“Not Eric,” I say.

“She’s made a mistake. Paul thought he saw the guy in the forest, though. He’d have gone after him, but with the way Val was screaming, he thought she was hurt.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Get Will,” Dalton says to Kenny. “Tell him to meet us at Val’s place. As soon as he’s on his way, round up the militia. I want all hands on deck. But no one makes a move without my say-so. Tell them to get to Val’s house for further instructions.”





FORTY-THREE

Dalton and I head out. As we walk, he says, “This wasn’t me.”

“Uh, yeah, considering we were having sex for the last hour, I have no doubt of where you were, Eric.”

“If she tries to say it happened earlier, I can account for my whereabouts all evening. The last person I spoke to was Isabel. Then I passed Brian heading home, and we talked. He can confirm I was walking straight to my place. Then we took Storm out to play.”

“Eric? It’s okay.”

“I just … I don’t know what is going on, Casey. Yeah, I’m freaking out. I feel like she’s trying to frame me or plant doubt about me, with you or—”

“Eric? Deep breaths.”

He makes a face, but he doesn’t argue that he’s not panicking. I squeeze his arm.

We’re almost to Val’s when Dalton spots a figure trudging along the road.

“You!” he calls. “I need your—” He exhales a fuck as the figure turns, and we see Jen’s face beneath a parka hood. “Never mind.”

He scans the road, but it’s past midnight midweek and bitter cold. The streets are empty.

“What’s wrong, Sheriff?” she calls as we continue on. “Am I disappointing you by not committing a crime? You sure you don’t want to strip-search me? I might be carrying something.”

Dalton mutters deep under his breath about what she might be carrying and its level of communicability.

“Jen?” I call back. “Do you think we could get your help with something?”

“If you’re looking for a threesome, I don’t do that shit.” She points at Dalton. “And I sure as hell don’t do that shit.”

“Val was apparently attacked tonight,” I say. “Can you just…?” I motion for her to catch up as we walk. She hesitates, but when she sees Dalton is moving ahead, she joins me.

“Someone broke into Val’s room,” I say. “Obviously, the big concern is that it was Nicole’s captor. I need to speak to Val. Eric and Will have to organize a search party. We need someone to guard the scene.”

“You’re asking me to guard a crime scene?”

“You did say you wanted to join the militia. Or was that just a way to get information on the case?”

She straightens. “I was serious.”

“Good. Then guard the scene, please. If someone broke in, there will be footprints outside, but as soon as people hear a commotion, they’ll come gawking and mess up the scene.”

“Okay, but no one’s going to listen to me.”

“Make them. Please. If they argue, tell them Eric said that anyone who ignores you is going ice fishing. Let them interpret that however they want.”

She snorts a chuckle, then says, “I want militia pay.”

“If you keep everyone away, you’ll get double. If anyone trespasses, consider it volunteer work.”

*

Val is huddled on her couch, comforter wrapped around her. When I walk in, I say, “Would you like a tea?” and she shakes her head.

“It was him,” she says. “Sheriff Dalton.”

“Let’s back up to what happened.”

She looks up sharply. “You don’t believe me.”

“We’ll get to that. First—”

She rises, comforter falling from one shoulder. “No, this first, Detective. I’m telling you that I saw a man in my room, and I can positively identify him, and you’re ignoring that because he happens to be your lover.”

“This just happened, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Eric has been with me for over an hour.”

“Sleeping with you. Or so you thought.”

“It’s barely midnight, Val. We were awake.”

“You think you were. You don’t want to believe he’d do this.”

“No, I know I was awake, and I know he was there, because we were having sex.”

Kelley Armstrong's books