Val waits in the living room. She sits ramrod straight, and when we enter, she fixes me with a look that says I am a grave disappointment. She doesn’t argue, though. Hasn’t said a word since I summoned Dalton.
As he walks in, he says, “I know you think I broke into your place, Val, but I didn’t.”
“She realizes she was mistaken,” I say.
He nods, but his gaze shoots to her, apprehension lingering. I motion for him to sit. Then I say, “A few months ago, I mentioned that Val had been attacked in the forest. What did you say?”
His brows furrow.
I continue, “I said she’d been attacked, and you said…”
He takes a moment, as if struggling to shift mental gears. “I said I knew she’d gotten lost. I was there when they found her.”
“But she didn’t mention an attack.”
“No.”
“Phil had a private talk with you a few weeks later. About what happened to Val. Do you remember it?”
Another moment, as he thinks back. “Okay, yes. He told me not to make a big deal of it, that Val was embarrassed over getting lost and I was to drop the matter entirely. I said I never did make a big deal of it. Getting a scare like that is lesson enough.”
I glance at Val. She’s not leaping in to correct him, just sitting stiffly, chin raised, prepared for battle but waiting for the first volley.
“Did Phil tell you she’d been attacked?” I ask.
“What? Fuck—” He stops himself. “No. The first time I heard that was when you told me. Otherwise, I’d have needed details. Of the attackers, that is. So I could see if any of my contacts recognized them.”
“And what would you have done if you’d found them, Sheriff?” Val asks.
“That’s up to the council. Same as with any major crime.”
“Before Val went on that patrol,” I say, “you strongly advised against it.”
“Hell—” He stops again. Restarts with a quiet “Yes.”
“You have forbidden others to do the same. Including Will when he first arrived.”
“Yes. I can bring in a half dozen guys who wanted to go out on patrol too soon. They’ll confirm I told them the same thing.”
“Exactly what did you warn them about?”
“What didn’t I warn them about?” He looks at Val. “It was the same lecture you got. Everything from the threat of wildlife to the hazards to getting lost.”
“Hostiles?” I ask.
“I warn about people in general. I don’t talk about the hostiles specifically—I don’t want to scare anyone like that. But I’m very clear that there are people out there and that encounters with them can be fatal.”
I turn to Val. “Is that what he told you?”
She nods.
“With no particular emphasis on the people over other dangers?” I ask.
She nods.
“If Eric was using the hostiles to frighten people, don’t you think he’d hammer on that point?”
“What?” Dalton says. “Using the hostiles?”
“The council believes you facilitate—possibly even orchestrate—hostile activity as a form of control over residents. Frightening locals so they don’t wander or run off.”
“What?”
“They believe you use your contacts to help you. That you…” I look at Val. “I’m not clear what exactly. Lure the hostiles close enough to town for sporadic attacks? Or have our excursions pass hostile areas in hopes of attack?”
“Both,” she says.
Dalton stares like he’s landed in an alternate reality. Or like we’ve all been smoking things we found in the forest.
“The patrol logbook, Eric,” I say. “That’s where patrols log signs of human activity so you can go out and evaluate, correct?”
“Yes, but if the council says that proves I’m tracking hostiles—”
“Can you open the logbook and tell me the entries for the last week of October? Particularly the one about a campsite the patrol found.”
He does. It’s nothing unusual—the patrol found the remains of a campsite a few kilometers in, and Dalton investigated.
I take the logbook and read. “Appears to be settler, approx three days old, canceling lake trip.”
I look at Val. “The lake had frozen, so we were taking a group for a twilight bonfire. A winter celebration party for those who win a spot by lottery. Eric had the militia scout the main path to the lake for the three days leading up to the party, to be sure it was clear. They found this on their first pass. Eric canceled the event.” I look at him. “You concluded it was settlers, so why cancel?”
“I can’t take the chance. Not with something like that—a nighttime event for citizens who don’t spend a lot of time in the forest. What looks like settlers could be high-functioning hostiles, and just because the campsite was three days old didn’t mean they weren’t still in the region.”
“Did you tell people that?”
“No. I said the ice wasn’t thick enough, so I was postponing it for a week.”
“Complete with a rant about how if you caught anyone sneaking down that way, they’d be on chopping duty all winter.”