Alone in the Wild (Rockton #5)(51)

“Fine,” Dalton says. “You’re saying we might not be the best judge of threats because we live among the residents as individuals. Not arguing. But Maryanne isn’t going to lose her mind, revert to being a hostile, and start murdering residents.”

“Does the council know that? I am trusting your judgment, but I also see their point of view. They asked—” He takes a deep breath. “They ordered me to bring her to Dawson City. After you two left pursuing the baby’s parents, I was to sedate her and enlist the help of residents who have a working relationship with the council.”

“So the council planned to take Maryanne,” I say. “And then what?”

“Get her appropriate medical and psychological treatment. I believe them when they say that. However, it’s still removing her against her will. Also, I know you’ve taken an interest in the hostiles, Casey, and having lived here, I fully support any research that might eventually lead to the end of that particular threat. However, if I challenge the council, they’ll recall me, fire me, and replace me.”

“But you want to be recalled,” I say.

“If I stay a year, I earn a quarter million on top of my salary. If I defy them, I might as well tell future employers that I spent the last eight years in Tibet with monks. That’s lovely for personal growth, but on Bay Street, no one cares about your self-actualization.”

He looks at us. “I’m never going to see the beauty of the north and fall in love. However, I am committed to Rockton for my own reasons. I can be an ally, but I need your protection in return.”

“In other words, this meeting never happened,” I say. “We get Maryanne out before dawn, so you can say we left with her before you could.”

He shakes his head. “What you do with Maryanne is your own concern. However, come morning, you must report to me that she’s left of her own accord, and you have no idea where she went. You cannot track her because you have a lead on the baby’s parents, which is your priority.” He pauses. “I trust that Tyrone Cypher’s presence here means you have a lead?”

“We do.”

“Then follow it.”





TWENTY-FOUR


We veer past the place we gave Cypher for the night, in case we can talk to him now and save a step in the morning. But there are signs he’s not alone. I stick a note under the door warning we’ll return at six.

Back home, I update Anders while Dalton changes and feeds Abby. We set the alarm for five, which gives us four hours of sleep. Abby allows us almost that much, rising at four thirty, and I’ll forgive her for that.

After breakfast, I take Abby so I can talk to Cypher while Dalton takes Storm to the storerooms, where he’ll pack supplies for Maryanne.

When I rap on Cypher’s door, it takes a while for it to open, and then Jen’s there with her foot on the note.

“It’s five in the fucking morning,” she says.

“Five forty-five. And that note you’re standing on says we’ll be by at six, so I can come back in fifteen minutes if it makes a difference.”

She lets out a string of profanity. I wait it out.

She glances at the bedroom. “You taking him?”

“Undetermined. However, I do need to give you this little one.” I gesture at Abby, tucked under my jacket. “But, like I said, I can give you fifteen minutes.”

She eyes that direction again, and I hear Cypher rising with a bleary, “Jennifer?” Then a few profanities of his own, in obvious disappointment at finding himself alone.

“Make it twenty,” she says.

I leave just as Dalton passes with Storm. I tell him I’ll swing by my old house and wake Maryanne.

Once she’s up, I tell her there’s some concern over the council’s interest in her, and we’re not overly worried, but it seems wise to head out before dawn. She decides on another shower as I make breakfast, and I ask if there’s anything in particular she’d like us to pack, after I run through the list of what we have.

“I do have one request that you probably can’t fill,” she says. “I know you said there are books at the cave, and I see you’re grabbing some more for me but … I don’t suppose there are any reading glasses. I had laser surgery before I came to Rockton.”

That’s one of the prearrival suggestions, because we can’t supply contacts or easily replace glasses.

“However,” she says, “I’ve aged since then, and I’ve had trouble with my sewing lately. I tried a book last night, and I can manage it, but yes, evidently, I’m getting old.”

“Considering the median age here is late thirties, reading glasses are a must,” I say. “There’s a stash of them in the library. I’ll grab a few for you to try. Also, let me know if you want a specific type of fiction or nonfiction. If Eric grabs books, you’ll end up with everything from historical romance to archaeology to biographies of obscure ancient warlords.”

She smiles. “Not because he’ll randomly grab a handful, but because he’s read them all himself. I remember that. Especially the romance. One of the militia razzed him for reading one, and Eric said he was learning skills that guys obviously hadn’t, considering he was always complaining about his three ex-wives.” Her smile deepens. “Guess he did develop those relationship skills.”