"So you killed him to protect yourself. Then you planned to frame Diana and let her die in that fire for no reason other than that it would give me a reason to leave town. When that failed, you remembered Irene's accidental confession and the rumours you'd heard about Diana. You doped her up and got her to confess to even more than you bargained for. But still I wouldn't leave. I ran into that forest ... and into Jacob, the pistol you'd cocked to fire. Perfect timing ... and yet I survived, and with Eric playing nursemaid, you couldn't even make sure I died from unforeseen complications. Still, you could frame Jacob for the murders. Another innocent party whose guilt would doubly help you--blame him for the crimes and get him out of Eric's life so he'd be free to go south with you."
"You don't understand anything," she snarls.
"Maybe," I say. "But I think we'll let the council decide." I turn and call, "You get that, sheriff?"
Dalton walks out from a clump of trees. He's pale and pressing his blood-soaked shirt to his shoulder. But he's on his feet, walking toward Beth, and she falls back, blinking hard.
"Eric? You ... you ..."
"Yeah, he's fine," I say. "I lied. Someone else isn't doing quite so well, though. Will's been shot."
"And you're going to fix him," Dalton says. "Or I'll shoot you before Casey can."
Thirteen
And that's it. Well, no. It's not. When we talk to the council, Beth tries to retract her confession. That's when I bring up the trap left in the clearing with Hastings's body. I accuse her of trying to hurt Dalton, and she can't resist that bait, saying it must have already been there, defending herself and thereby trapping herself.
By morning, the council has sent a plane to pick her up. Apparently, they don't trust Dalton to get her out of Rockton alive. After that? Well, I don't give a shit what happens to her after that. I cannot forgive her for what she did to Mick, to Jacob, to Diana, and, however inadvertently, to Dalton. And there's hurt there, too, and I'll let myself acknowledge that. She'd become a friend, and I do not understand what she did. I do not.
As for Anders, he's fine. Physically, at least. The rest? That's a little more complicated. The next morning, I wake in Dalton's bed, and I lie there, trying to figure out how to tell him that the guy who saved his life is a killer who's been informing on him.
When Dalton wakes, he pulls me to him for a kiss, but then stops, wincing at his shoulder wound, and I take advantage of that to wriggle away and prop up on my elbow.
"I need to tell you something about Will," I say.
He shoots upright. "Did he get worse--?"
"No, I'm sure he's fine. But ... I found out something about him last night. That file Mick had on the people smuggled into Rockton ... He'd stolen it from you but added an extra entry. On Will."
Dalton goes quiet and rubs his mouth.
"You knew," I say.
"Yeah."
"He's not in your book."
"I got rid of the page a while ago, in case anyone found it. I'd have told you if I thought there was any chance he'd killed Abbygail and the others. Or if you got involved with him."
"Okay." I hesitate and say slowly, "You knew his backstory, but there's more. In order to stay in Rockton, well, there was a price."
"Informing on me."
I blink at him. He shrugs. "That's obvious, isn't it? They let him in because they wanted leverage inside my department. Knowing who the spy is made it easier for me. I didn't tell Will anything that I wouldn't want getting back to them. I did give him some stuff that could get me in a bit of trouble, just to monitor. After about six months, he stopped passing that along, and that's when I knew I could trust him. I still never gave him anything that could get me kicked out."
"Which is why you told me to keep even the murder investigation between us."
"Yep."
I lie back on the pillow. He stays there, on his side, watching me as I stare at the ceiling.
"How do you deal with what he did?" I say finally. "How do you reconcile that?"
"I don't."
I look over at him.
"Something happened over there," Dalton says. "In the war. All I know is that the guy who killed his commanding officer just sacrificed himself to save me. That's the person I need to focus on."
I expect any conversation with Anders will wait until he's recovered. It doesn't. He wants to talk to us, and Dalton realizes he's not going to truly rest until he does. Dalton expects we'll do this together. I refuse. He's the one Anders has worked with for two years. Been friends with for two years. Betrayed for two years. That's a conversation between them.
Dalton talks to him that afternoon. I go right after. I walk into Anders's room, and I sit on the chair by the window, and I stare out of it. He just waits until I'm ready.
"I want to know why," I ask.
"Why I shot my CO?" he asks, his voice low. "Or why I informed on Eric?"
The answer should be obvious. Why he murdered a man is far more important than how he wronged Dalton, but he knows which one I meant. And here is the truth of why this is so hard for me. Because it doesn't matter if I only met Anders a few weeks ago. I know him, and he knows me.
That's why nothing ever happened between us. I understood him, and so there wasn't that thrill of fascination and discovery that I had with Dalton. I understood Anders, and that's what twists in my gut now, because I want to say, in light of everything, that I obviously don't understand him at all. Like in the forest, when I kept waiting for him to turn into something else, someone else. But he didn't.
He did exactly what I expected of the man I'd come to know. He did exactly what I would have done.
"When you came to Rockton, you didn't know Eric," I say. "I'm sure the council told you stories that made him seem like a loose cannon. Informing on him was the price of admittance. Then you got to know him, and you realized you could help him by reporting things that didn't matter, making the council think he was being monitored."
Anders exhales. "Yes. Thank you."
"The shooting ..." I prompt.
"Why did I do that?" He goes quiet long enough that I don't think I'm getting an answer. When he does speak, his voice is barely audible. "Anything I can say feels like an excuse. A good man is dead at my hand. Two good men were wounded. That can't be excused." He lifts his gaze to mine. "I think you understand that. Better than anyone."
"Give me a why, then."
"There is no why. Not like with you. They didn't ..." He fidgets in his bed, wincing as he pulls against his bandages. "They did nothing to even remotely deserve it, Casey. It was me. All me. I was ... I had problems. Coping. I saw something. Over there. A mission went bad and things happened and something snapped. I blamed my CO, but not like that, not like I wanted to kill him for it. They put me on meds, and there were side effects. Rage, mental confusion. I wanted to stop taking them, and I just damned well should have, but I agreed to give it one more week."
He goes quiet and I wonder if that's all I'm getting. Then he says, "I remember going to bed. The next thing I knew, I was standing by his bed, and then I'm suddenly outside his quarters looking down at two wounded men. I still do not know what happened. But that's no excuse, is it? I kept taking the meds when I knew better. I pulled that trigger. The army wasn't going to send me home with a dishonourable discharge. I was looking at life in a mental ward or a prison cell because I was responsible. No one else."
I move to the bed, and I sit beside him, and that's it. We just sit there. In silence. Like we did in the cave. Lost in remorse and guilt that won't ever go away. Not for either of us. There are no excuses here. No easy answers, either. We'll spend the rest of our lives dealing with what we did. Period.
As for Jacob, Dalton's dealing with that, too. I'll help, as much as I can, but it's his brother, and I understand that. The fact that we no longer have a doctor in Rockton complicates matters--with both Jacob's withdrawal and Anders's recovery. We've called on anyone with any medical training to step up. Except that two of thos
e three people are also on Dalton's watch list, having bought their way into Rockton. Complicated? Fuck, yes, as Dalton would say. But we'll deal. We have to.
Then there's Diana. We know she didn't kill Mick, but it doesn't matter. She's still being deported. I haven't talked to her since I learned the truth. I've been telling myself that I can have that talk in Dawson City, more privately. Except with Anders incapacitated, I need to stay behind as the only law enforcement in town.
Two days after Beth leaves, the council decides Dalton is well enough to take Diana out and I promise to speak to her that morning. At eleven, Dalton finds me still at my desk.
"We leave in an hour, Casey."
I keep writing. "I just need to finish this report."
"I'll do it. You go see Diana."
When I don't answer, he shifts his weight and shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'm not pushing you to be a jerk, Casey. I just think if you don't ..."
"I'll regret losing the opportunity for closure. Diana is about to walk out of it forever, and there are things I need to say."
"Yeah."
"Can we ...?" I inhale. "I know you're on a schedule, but is there any way we can walk? Just walk?"
He nods, and we head out.
We head into the forest and keep going until we're not walking anymore, and he's clearing my mind with something other than conversation. I need that. I really do. I need all of it--the forest and him and, afterward, those moments of silence, lying on the ground, watching him stare into the woods, and the absolute peace of seeing his expression and understanding it.
"Can I ... get your advice?" I ask. "About Diana. What I'm going to say to her. I want to resolve this, but I don't want our last moments to turn into a confrontation."
He gives me that dissection look, and I add, "I don't want to let her off the hook, either," and he nods at that, satisfied that I'm not going to accept whatever she dishes out and tell myself I deserve it. I'm past that. Finally past it.
"Tell me what you want to say," he says, and I do.
Fourteen
We're nearly back to town when Kenny radioes that he has Diana at the station. We're taking her out that way rather than marching her through town. We haven't let the others know what she's done, but news has travelled, along with the opinion that she shouldn't be allowed to get on that plane and sail off scot-free.
We go into the station and Diana's there, with her back to us. Dalton takes Kenny out the back. I wait until the screen door shuts. Then I say, "I'd like to talk."
"Too late." Diana turns, and there's an ugly smile on her face. "You had time to talk to me, Casey. You didn't. You've lost your chance to apologize."
"Apo--Apologize?"
"I saved you and you treated me like crap, and I'm not giving you the chance to make amends now. I'm walking out of this shithole of a town and I'm going south, to a real life, the kind I could never have while you were hanging around my neck."
I open my mouth, but she's going strong.
"I'm going to track down that asshole Graham and get my money. I have a plan all worked out. The perfect way to get him to do what I want." She gives that ugly smile again. "Because I've realized I'm kinda good at that, aren't I?"
She stands there, chin raised. After a moment she says, "Come on, Casey, hit me. You know you want to."
"No, I don't."
"How about you, sheriff?" she calls. "I know you're listening. Making sure I don't damage your broken little girl. Come on in and tell me what you think of me."
Dalton opens the back screen door and she sneers, as if he's sneaking in, abashed. Which he isn't--leaving that door open meant he hadn't been hiding.
"Go for it, sheriff," she says. "Tell me what a bitch I am."
"Nah," he says. "A bitch has spine. You're just pathetic."
She launches herself at him, and before I can intercede, he's blocked her, easily holding her away from him until she backs off, her lip curled. Then she spins on me.
"You want to apologize, Casey. Fine. Get it out of your system."
"I have nothing to apologize for. You do, but I see that's not forthcoming, so--"
"I saved you," she says. "Look at you. A new boyfriend. New friends. An actual social life. And you're a goddamned local hero. Solved the mystery. Saved the town. All hail Casey Duncan--whoops, Butler. Casey Duncan is a murderer. Casey Butler is a hero."
"Are you finished?" I ask, and that really does stop her. Into the silence, I say, "Yes, I'm better off for coming up here. It was exactly what I needed. But you didn't bring me here to help me. You brought me here to help you. To be here for you."
"Um, no. I brought you to stop you from searching for me."
"That was probably part of it, but if you're going to pretend that we weren't friends? Bullshit. You don't hang out with someone for years because they're useful. But slant this your own way, if it makes you feel better. We'll pretend you only brought me along because you couldn't afford to have me search for you, though I'm sure that was Graham's idea."
I'm about to say he was the brains of the operation and she was the twit who stood by him, but I'm not going there. I realize Dalton's word for her is perfect. Pathetic. And I do feel pity. I know she's lashing out to protect herself. I'll let her have that.
I turn to Dalton. "She's all yours."
I walk to the door as Val steps in and says, "Diana's still here? Good. There's been a change of plans."
We're at Val's listening to Phil on the satellite radio. I'm there with Dalton and Diana. Isabel is there, too--summoned by the council, though no one seems to know why.
"We've changed our mind," Phil says. "Diana is staying in Rockton."
I'm not sure who says "What?" first--or louder.
Phil continues, "It is the decision of this council that Diana Berry is clearly unstable and poses a serious exposure threat. She will remain in Rockton until that risk assessment changes. Isabel will assist in Diana's rehabilitation."
Isabel opens her mouth, but Diana cuts her off. "You can't make me stay. That's kidnapping. Unlawful confinement."
"No, it's not," Phil says. "Eric? The council wishes to officially inform you that Ms. Berry is exempt from all laws regarding personal freedom of movement."
"What the hell does that mean?" she snaps.
"That you're allowed to leave," Isabel says. "If you want to walk into that forest and find your way home, Eric is not allowed to stop you. So this isn't unlawful confinement."
"No way," Diana says. "No fucking way." She spins to me. "Casey, say something. Tell them they can't do this."
Isabel bursts out laughing. "Really, sugar? You are indeed a piece of work."
I turn to the radio and say, "So how much is Graham paying you to keep her here?"
Phil doesn't respond, and that silence answers my question.
Diana wheels on Dalton. "It's all true. Everything you've accused me of. I had sex for money. I did dex more than twice. I can get witnesses to both. I wanted to have fun and I broke the rules doing it, and you don't want me here."
"Yeah, I really don't. But it doesn't seem like I have a choice."
"I might hurt Casey," she says. "I'll blame her for this and--"
"We believe Detective Butler can take care of herself," Phil interjects. "But if you do cause trouble in that regard, you are subject to double penalties or more if needed. This matter isn't open for discussion. You will be assigned a new job and new quarters, which will improve as your attitude does. Isabel will be in charge of making that determination. Now, good day."
He disconnects before anyone can respond. Even Val stands frozen for at least ten seconds before she says, "All right, then. The council has decreed--"
"Yeah, heard it," Dalton says. "Don't need the replay. Diana--"
"Fuck, no," Diana says. "Fuck, no. I won't stay. You can't make me. You can't." She stomps her feet, and Isabel sputters a laugh. Diana flies at her.
Dalton hauls her back, and when she won't stop struggling, he stron
g-arms her toward the door. "Guess your first new residence will be the cell."
"You aren't allowed to restrict my movement. The council said--"
"Pretty sure that's not what they meant," he says, and as he passes me, he gives me a nod and mouths that he'll talk to me as soon as he can, and then he's gone, escorting a still-fighting Diana out the door.
"Well," Isabel says. "This should be entertaining."
I give her a look.
"Oh, I'm sure she'll leave you alone," she says. "She's stuck here, and the only person who'll listen to her badmouth you is Jen." Isabel's lips twitch. "This really could be entertaining. And you never know. She might see the error of her ways and become a vital member of the community." She looks toward the door as Diana starts shrieking outside. "Or not."
I don't even know how to process this. It's not what I want, by any means, but a small part of me says I'm actually safer without Diana wreaking revenge and informing on me down south.
"Ever had Rey Sol Anejo?" Isabel says before I can leave. When I turn, she says, "It's tequila."
"Oh, I know. Top, top shelf tequila."
"I have a bottle in my house. A gift from a past resident. I know Petra was planning to meet up with you after Eric and Diana flew out. He'll still be busy for a while, so I'm inviting you ladies to help me crack the bottle."
I check my watch.
"It's never too early for Rey Sol Anejo," Isabel says. She looks at Val. "I'd invite you too, but I know socializing isn't your thing."
I catch a look on Val's face that says if we did invite her, she might actually come. I should extend the invitation ... and the olive branch. Another time.
"So?" Isabel says as we walk out. "Is that a yes, Detective Butler?"
I look down the road at Eric hauling along a still-struggling Diana. Then I glance back at Isabel. "Yes. And please."
She laughs, hooks her arm in mine, and says, "Let's go find Petra. We'll send someone to invite the good sheriff to join us when he's done. We might even save some for him."
KELLEY ARMSTRONG is the internationally bestselling author of the thirteen-book Women of the Otherworld series, the Nadia Stafford crime novels and a new series set in the fictional town of Cainsville, Illinois, which includes the novels Omens, Visions and Deceptions. She is also the author of three bestselling young adult trilogies, and the YA suspense thriller, The Masked Truth. She lives in rural Ontario. www.kelleyarmstrong.com