This Fallen Prey (Rockton #3)(101)

“I did accidentally shoot your friend. The old man. I’m sorry. I know you don’t believe that, but I am.”

Brady looks my way, still pinned to the tree.

“I told you before, Detective, whatever I do comes from desperation. My stepfather wants me dead. He has the money and the power to make that happen. I’ve run out of options. I will do pretty much anything to stay alive. That includes intimidating an old man. But I did not mean to shoot him. We fought for the gun, and he got shot, and I ran. Panicked and ran.”

“You ground your fist—”

“I panicked. I needed to know where to find the sheriff’s brother, and I did a horrible thing in my desperation to get that information. When he still refused, I didn’t try again. I ran.”

“And Val?” I say.

“If Val is dead, then I am sorry for that, too, but I didn’t kill her. I took her to that spot. That wolf was there. Only it was rabid.” He gives a ragged laugh. “Of course it was. It’s not enough to just have wolves out here. They need to be rabid, too.”

“So you saw the wolf . . .” I say.

“I saw it. Shot it. And it kept coming, like something out of a damned horror movie. So I ran. At first, Val was behind me, but then she apparently realized I wasn’t holding her at gunpoint anymore. So she took off. I have no idea what happened to her after that.”

“Then you did what?” Dalton says. “Wandered around hoping for fucking signs to the nearest town?”

“Yes, Sheriff, I kinda did, okay? Not an actual signpost—I’m not that naive—but I figured if I just kept walking, I’d reach a road, and I could hitchhike to town.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. You hear any cars out here?”

“I’ve realized my mistake, okay? Which is why, when I heard voices, I just said ‘screw it’ and headed toward you. I’ve been out here for days, and I feel like I’m walking in circles—hell, I probably am. I’m exhausted. I have no supplies. No weapons. I saw a grizzly bear yesterday. A fucking grizzly bear. I may have pissed myself, but by now, I stink so bad, it’s not like you’re even going to notice. I give up, okay? I throw myself on your mercy. The only thing I’m going to ask is that if my stepfather orders you to kill me, you walk up behind me and just do it, before I know what’s happening. I can’t win here. Can’t escape. I get that now.”

I slow-clap. He turns on me, but Dalton still has him pinned, and all Brady can do is glower.

“Just applauding the performance,” I say. “It’s really good. Unfortunately, while you can explain away Brent and Val and just play dumb about the settler massacre, we have an eyewitness who has seen you out here. Eating bars from Rockton.” I take the wrapper from my pocket. “And you weren’t alone.”

“What? No. Just . . . Look, I have no idea who this eyewitness is, but if someone told you that, then my stepfather got to him—or her. Bribed him. Blackmailed him. Something.”

Brady turns to Kenny. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“No, it was me,” Jacob says.

“What?” He turns to Jacob. “You’re the scout. The one I met on the walk with the wolf and the sniper. The sheriff’s brother, right?”

“Yeah,” Dalton says. “And he lives out here. Which means he’s not working for your daddy.”

I wave at the forest. “This isn’t the big city. Your stepdaddy can’t post on Craigslist for a spy.”

“I realize that,” Brady says coolly. “I presumed that whoever he paid off was a resident of your town.” He glances at Kenny. “You or one of my other prison guards.”

“It wasn’t me,” Kenny says.

“I saw you eating that bar with someone,” Jacob says to Brady. “I saw you walking with someone. Heard you talking with someone.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that, except that I wasn’t. Flat-out wasn’t.”

“So you’re calling my brother a liar?” Dalton says.

“No, I’m actually not. I grew up with the biggest liar you could hope to meet—my stepfather. I know when someone’s bullshitting, and I can tell your brother isn’t, which leaves me . . .” A helpless shrug. “I don’t even know. I just don’t. Obviously he saw someone out here who looks like me. Same size or whatever.”

“It was you,” Jacob says. “Those jeans. Those shoes. That shirt.”

“Then I . . .” Brady trails off and looks over at me. “I do not know what to tell you, Detective. I just don’t know.”

“Any identical twins we should know about?” I ask.

His lips tighten. Then he says, “I realize you’re being sarcastic, but at this point, I’m starting to wonder myself. The only thing I can even think of is that my stepfather sent someone out here who resembles me, dressed like me. Which makes me sound like a raving lunatic. So I’ve got nothing, Detective. Absolutely nothing but my solemn word, with a promise that if you find out I’m lying, you don’t need to shoot me. Walk me to one of these mountain gorges, and I’ll swan-dive. Save you the bullet.”





55





Jacob leads the way. Brady is right behind him, with Dalton and Kenny following. I’m lagging back with Storm. I’ve given her food from my pack, and we’ve found water, but she’s exhausted. Like a small child who senses this is not the time to complain, though, she troops silently beside me.