A Darkness Absolute (Casey Duncan #2)(20)

It’s just Val, Dalton, and me in that living room. I shouldn’t be here—my position doesn’t warrant it unless I’m summoned. But I think everyone has decided it’s really better for me to act as Dalton’s spokesperson. Val certainly prefers it. To her, I am an intelligent, educated, well-spoken professional, and Eric Dalton is a knuckle-dragging redneck barely literate enough to write his own name. If she’s ever been in his house and seen the walls lined with books, she must have told herself they’re insulation.

When I finish explaining the situation with Nicole, I’m not sure if the council is still awake. No one says a word.

“Obviously, we don’t have the medical expertise for a proper—” I begin.

“We are well aware of your current medical situation,” Phil says, boredom edged by the faintest note of exasperation, as if we were complaining about the lack of Internet. “You will get a doctor when a qualified one applies for sanctuary.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m stating a fact related to this case. Will Anders has assessed Nicole and determined she’s suffering from everything you’d expect from someone confined in a tiny cave. Malnutrition. Muscle deterioration. Visual impairment.”

“Yes, yes, we know.”

“No,” Dalton cuts in, “you don’t know. She was kept in a hole barely big enough to lie down in. Held captive by some psychopath. Raped—”

“We don’t need the details, Sheriff.”

“Yeah, you do, and I’m sorry if those fucking details mess up your fucking day, but—”

I cut him off with a look. He might be telling them everything I’d love to say, but it’s not productive. We both know it’s not.

“Nicole has been subjected to extreme trauma,” I say. “The problem is that, as you might imagine, she’s eager to leave Rockton and put this whole experience behind her. But we can’t let that happen. She’s in such a delicate mental state that no matter what precautions you take, Isabel strongly fears Nicole will find a way to tell her story to the world. That would endanger Rockton.”

There’s a noise at the other end of the phone, as if I finally have his attention.

“Nicole is a good person,” I say. “She doesn’t want to cause trouble. But she’s in deep psychological pain, and she wants her captor caught. To her, that will mean bringing in the RCMP. What we need to do is prove that we can find him. We can punish him. That’s all she wants. When she sees that we can do the job at least as well as the Mounties, she’ll relax and heal and reach the point where she’ll leave happy and stable.”

“Can you do that?”

“Find her captor? I—”

“At this point, that’s the lesser of our concerns.”

Not the lesser of mine. Or anyone who actually has to live here. I bite my tongue, and Phil says, “I meant, can you convince her to stay?”

I take a moment, as if this requires deep consideration. “Isabel believes we can. We’ll start by using the storm as an excuse. Then we’ll show her that we’re on the case, putting all of our efforts into tracking down her captor. I might even be able to convince her that once we find him, she would still be safer here. I think it’s best to be upfront about timing. I would say it could be as much as a year, to be completely sure she’s fine before she leaves. Does that work?”

“It does. Thank you, Detective. Your diligence and foresight in this matter is appreciated.”

*

I’m back in the icehouse. When I tell Nicole that we’ve bought her a year, she breaks down in tears. When she recovers, I say that her stay is dependent on her health remaining stable, of course, and if she must leave, I’ll do my best to let her return. She doesn’t argue—it’s obvious we’re not going to risk her health. When I confess about the story I had to weave to buy her time, she finds a laugh for me.

“Clever,” she says. “You know how to handle them. I’ll be sure not to tell anyone that I wanted to stay.”

“Thank you. Now, I’d like to keep you under guard for a while. We’ll also assign a caretaker, until you’re stronger.”

“Can it be Diana?”

I hesitate. “We’ll see if she can be spared. For now, let’s get you home and resting. I’m going to have questions—a lot, I’m afraid. If you’re up to it, I’d like to come by in a few hours. I know that doesn’t give you much time to rest.”

“You’re trying to find the bastard who did this. I’m here for whatever you need.”

*

I’m walking with Dalton through the perimeter woods, heading to my place. We’re narrowing down local suspects. Yes, we know Nicole’s captor might be a hostile or a settler. But presuming it’s an outsider is the worst kind of gut-level community policing. The sad truth is that a crime like this is more likely to be committed by a local … and someone known to the victim.

“Sex offenders normally shoot to the top of the list,” I say. “Except the ones we have aren’t the right type. Not for anyone over the age of sixteen.”

We have pedophiles rather than rapists, the council apparently declaring the former low-risk, given that we don’t have kids here. I could see that as a sign that they care about the residents, but in reality, they’re like actuaries, measuring risk and profit, and saddling us with habitual violent offenders of any type just isn’t good business.