Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(103)

“I believe the only person who has a problem with that—or the wine—is you,” Anders says. “Also, you don’t smoke mushrooms.”

Roy sniffs. “You’d know, wouldn’t you? You’re like that asshole out there.” He hooks his thumb toward the porch where Kenny is. “You think if you spend enough time in the gym, no one will notice you’re a little soft. A little ‘sensitive.’”

“Yep, I am very sensitive,” Anders says. “And now I’ll go smoke mushrooms and pump iron until I feel better.” He gets to his feet. “You done with this gem, Case?”

“I am.”

“Then come on, Macho Man. Let’s get you back home. You’re going to have the pleasure of my company tonight. The clinic is too small for you and Kenny, so you’re getting my home care.”

Roy looks down at his hospital gown. “I need my clothes.”

“Nah, you don’t. You can even leave the gown behind. It’s a warm night, and you won’t be showing off anything anyone hasn’t seen.”

*

I help April bring Kenny back in.

“You can’t keep him here,” she says as we reposition the bed.

Kenny clears his throat. “I have a name.”

“Which you know, and I know, and Casey knows, and since there is no one else here, everyone knows who I mean.”

“Yes,” Kenny says, his voice slow, patient. “But when you talk about someone who is present, you should use their name. Otherwise, it seems like I’m an object, like you’re saying: you can’t keep that pile of trash here.”

April actually flushes. “I didn’t say that.”

“I’m kidding. And I wouldn’t call you on it with anyone but Casey around.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because it would be rude. Now, I understand that you need your workspace, April, so yes, I am in your way and need to be relocated.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant that you won’t want to be here long-term.”

“Ah, then say that.”

“Am I supposed to analyze everything I say for how it could be interpreted?”

“Yes. Kind of. At least pause to consider it.”

She throws up her hands and walks into the next room. When the door shuts, I murmur. “I’m sorry. She’s difficult. I know that.”

“She’s not difficult on purpose. It’s just difficult for her. Everyone just accepts that it’s her way and written her off as difficult or rude or thoughtless.”

Now it’s my face heating. I nod. “You’re right. I never considered that it wasn’t a choice. That she might honestly not know how she sounds.”

“I know. So we could ignore it . . . or we could try to teach her, which feels patronizing, but I’ve talked to her, and she’s fine with that. She doesn’t want to be difficult. Or rude. Or thoughtless.”

“Thank you. You’re good with her.”

He shrugs. “My brother had autism. A much more serious case. He . . .” Kenny tugs at his sheet, fussing with it. “He’s been gone a long time. We were close. When he was little, my family worked with him, getting him as far as we could. I’m no expert, but I can guide April a little. I’m almost certain she is on the spectrum. I see little hints of my brother’s behavior patterns. She’s far from his situation, though. She’s also an adult, and that’s important to remember, too. She’s a very successful, independent, brilliant adult. She’ll accept guidance, but she shouldn’t be treated like she has a debilitating condition. Not like . . .” He taps his legs.

I sit on the edge of the bed. “April says the swelling’s going down, and your sensation has improved.”

“It’s not as bad as I feared. It’s not as good as I hoped, either.”

“We still don’t know—”

“It’s okay, Casey. You don’t need to sugarcoat it for me. If I was going to recover one hundred percent, I’d be farther along by now. I’m going to have problems. The question isn’t whether I’ll ever run as fast as I did before. It’s whether I’ll walk with or without braces. My goal is getting back on my feet, one way or another. Otherwise, the council won’t let me stay.”

I open my mouth.

He cuts me off with a look. “No sugarcoating, remember? Rockton can’t handle a wheelchair-bound resident. I need to be mobile, even if I need braces and crutches. I’m ready to do the work. Just cross your fingers for me.”

“They’re already crossed.”





FORTY-TWO

I’m still working at ten, when Dalton brings our poor, neglected dog to the station and points out her poor, neglected state and guilts me into accompanying them on a long forest walk. He’s right, of course. While Roy’s episode added a laundry list of new “things to investigate,” none of it is urgent.

Until I figure out what happened to Roy, I have no idea whether it’s connected to the case. It’s probably not. He’s a bullying asshole, and he’s been getting worse, and it’s entirely possible that someone had enough and doped him in hopes he’d go on a banishment-worthy rampage. If that’s the end result, I am okay with it. Okay with the result, not the way it was done. Mindy suffered in that outburst. Whoever drugged Roy will answer for that.