Cypher looks over, brows rising.
I continue. “My guess is that he got Nicole into the forest but didn’t dare take her far with the added security. He hid her and then went back to strangle the guy who escaped him. In the resulting confusion, he spirited Nicole off.”
“He could have just been silencing a witness,” Cypher says. “But yeah, the fact he failed to kill the guy—and that he must have grabbed the girl first—means it was likely a distraction. Smart. Not one of those freaks, then. Hostiles aren’t big on planning. And they wouldn’t think they could slip into Rockton unnoticed. The smell alone would give them away.”
We walk a little more, and then I say, “Honestly asking your professional opinion, what else could we have done to make sure this didn’t happen?”
“Stick that gal’s ass on the plane and get her out of Rockton.”
“Which would seem like the first thing she’d want. It wasn’t. To her, Rockton was safety. We still tried to talk her out of staying, but she…”
“Threatened suicide,” Dalton says. “Even if we’d managed to force her out, she could have retaliated. The council agreed she should stay.”
I expect Cypher to say it didn’t matter what Nicole wanted—get her on that plane and let the council deal with the rest.
Instead he says, “Hell, yeah. If the council thinks she’s a threat, nail her ass to Rockton.”
“I’m not sure she would have actually—” I began.
“Doesn’t matter what she’d do. What matters is what the council thinks she might. In those circumstances, if you put her on a plane, you sign her death warrant.”
I look over sharply. “Have they done that?”
“Fuck if I know. But given what I did for a living, no one knows the low value of a human life better. Except maybe soldiers.”
When Anders tenses, Cypher glances at him and says, “The army doesn’t give a shit how many grunts die. Only person who cares is the guy standing beside you. To them, you’re a person. To some government pencil pusher? You’re a tool. An expendable one. That’s what we are to the council. Only even less useful than tools. You ever hear those stories about rich people who leave all their money to their dogs or cats? Their heirs need to pamper the fucking animals, or they lose their inheritance. That’s what we are. Those dogs and cats. If we’re rich ourselves, then the council doesn’t get the final payout until we make it home alive. If we’re one of the charity cases, the real power behind the council—those folks who pay to keep Rockton running—don’t like seeing their precious pets mistreated.”
As he’s talking, I’m thinking of Beth, and when he finishes, I can barely bring myself to ask. But I have to.
“What about those who get kicked out? For crimes?”
“They’re threats, aren’t they?”
Dalton shakes his head. “My father said the fact they’ve committed crimes is enough—it’s blackmail material, should they ever become a threat. He says the council monitors them and, yeah, if they do something suspicious, maybe they act. Otherwise, no.”
“Well, if your daddy said it, then it must be true.”
Dalton’s jaw tightens. “If you have any proof—”
“Proof? No. But I’ve got a brain in my head, and I know how people like the council think. Made my living working for their sort. All that matters to them is the bottom line. There was this one time they were going to send a guy back south, blamed for something I was sure he didn’t do. So I took him into the forest, gave him supplies, and pointed him in the direction of the nearest town. Did he make it? Probably not. But I figure I gave him a better chance than he’d have had on that plane coming to pick him up. Hell, after I left Rockton, the council tried to recruit me.”
“Recruit you for what?” I ask.
“No idea. They sent some guy to find me out here, make me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I refused it. By hauling him into a tree like that she-cat hauled Silas, tying him to a limb and handing him his fancy satellite phone. Came back a few days later, and he was gone. I figure they sent someone to fetch him. Didn’t really care one way or the other, as long as they didn’t bother me again. They didn’t.”
“And you have no idea what they wanted you to do?”
“Hell, yeah, I have an idea. I just didn’t bother asking him to confirm my suspicion. Thing is, kitten, I wasn’t a bad sheriff, but a man like me? He’s got one real skill. One real talent. And it ain’t chopping down trees.”
*
We’ve been walking for almost two hours, and the mountain is finally getting close when Dalton slows, his head tilting in a way I know well.
“You hear something, boy?” Cypher asks.
“Wondering if we’re going to get there before nightfall.”
“You afraid of the dark?”
“Just cautious.”
“Too fucking cautious. You get that from your daddy. Always looked ten times before he leapt, and by the time he did, there was nothing left to leap at. He—”