A Darkness Absolute (Casey Duncan #2)(104)

“Maybe outrage over a perceived miscarriage of justice was just the rationalization.”

He eyes me before he relaxes, pulling on a smile. “Perhaps, as you say, for whoever would do such a thing, there is more to it. There is gratification. A sublimation of desire. But not in the way you think. That would make the predator no better than his prey. I did not murder this man here. I did not capture Nicole. I am not the killer you seek. As for the rest, I am no threat to you. No threat to Eric or to the job you both perform, protecting the safety of those here.”

I look at Dalton. We’re still speaking in French, and he’s been watching my body language. When I look over, he tenses, ready to rise. I shake my head.

“Your theory is sound,” Mathias says. “But there is a missing piece, a part you are not able to resolve. The other women. You don’t know how they’d fit the pattern of retributive justice, and you are too good a detective to decide that doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me about the reports you make to the council.”

That throws him; his composure ripples.

“I know you report on the psychological well-being of the community as a whole, plus assessments of specific individuals at the council’s request.”

“Yes,” he says slowly.

“Why you?”

“Do you mean, why not Isabel? She is more a part of the community, which would seem a natural choice, but it is actually a hindrance. That, and the fact she is now a businessperson first, a community worker second. If she had minor concerns about a well-paying customer, would she raise them? Perhaps not. I have no such restrictions, not for business or personal reasons. As well, their concerns over violence are far more my area than Isabel’s.”

“They also ask you to assess exposure threats.”

“I can see that my reporting concerns you, Casey, but I am not understanding the source of that concern. I am well aware that the council’s primary interest is not altruistic. It is financial. Even more so than Isabel, who despite her veneer of avarice, does actually care about this town. But it is in the council’s best interests to keep the town safe, which is what my reports do.”

“Fine, go back to—”

“Not until I understand this new line of questioning. You are interested in my reports, and you highlight exposure threats. The connection, then … Ah, back to Nicole, who posed a threat.” He taps a probe against the table. “But she did not. You suggested she may be a threat to allow her to stay. I did not tell the council that. I kept your secret.”

“Great, so—”

“Yet you believe I may have ‘silenced’ her, to use the vernacular. Very 007 of me. I am flattered. You will notice that I am not, however, mocking the underlying suggestion—that someone could have kidnapped Nicole at the council’s behest. I do not say they would. I do not say they would not. I will only admit this—if I believe a good person represents a small risk of exposure, I see no need to trouble the council with my thoughts.”

“Have they ever suggested they’ve acted on your reports? To squelch threats?”

“If they did, I would stop giving any reports. And possibly relocate to the forest. As for what I report, I keep copies. You and Eric are welcome to see them. I would have shared them with Eric sooner, if I did not fear adding my observations might cloud his own judgment.”

“I’ll take those.”

“Good.” He looks me in the eye. “I understand why you might suspect me of this, but I did not do it, Casey. I am certain you have already ordered militia to keep an eye on me, but I can assure you, I will not leave Rockton. I trust you to find the correct answer, and I know I am not it.”





FIFTY-EIGHT

I’m at the station. Writing. Spelling out what fits and what doesn’t. It’s past noon when the door opens and Jen walks in.

I keep writing. She drags over a chair. It’s light enough to lift, but she drags it, legs scraping on the rough wood floor. Then she plunks herself onto it.

“Has anyone ever said you’re a phony bitch?” she asks.

I don’t raise my gaze from the paper. “Only you.”

“Oh, I’m sure others have said it. Just not to your face. You can talk the talk. Act like you’re some hard-ass feminist, but it’s all for show.”

I set down my pen. “I don’t know what a hard-ass feminist is. I’m a feminist, which only means that I think men and women deserve equal treatment. Hardly a groundbreaking concept. But I’m sure you’re about to give an example of where I failed in that.”

“About last night. I’ve been waiting for you to come and get my side of the story, but apparently, that’s not happening. You got the man’s side. That’s enough.”

“Yes, that must be it. It has nothing to do with the fact that one of you has proven trustworthy and the other has not. It may also be because I’m still mulling through Paul’s story. You were late. That got him out of Roger’s room. Then you further distracted him, giving the killer time—”

“No,” she says, and there seems to be genuine horror in her eyes. She covers it quickly with “So now I’m a suspect? Of course I am. I’m always a suspect.”

“Then you disagree with my reasoning?”