Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(116)

“You!” a voice says.

I turn to see Roy bearing down on me.

“I want to talk to you, Detective.”

“Not now. I’m—”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re doing. I am a citizen of this town, and you can take two minutes to listen to me.”

I glance toward Diana, to warn her I’ve been waylaid.

“Do me the goddamn courtesy of looking when I’m talking to you,” Roy booms.

“Give me one hour. Come by the station at—”

“You’re kicking me out. I just heard it from that pretty boy who took Val’s place. He says I’m gone. This is bullshit.”

I cast a surreptitious glance in Diana’s direction. There is no way she can’t hear Roy, yet she hasn’t stopped. Hasn’t slowed.

Is it my imagination or is she walking even faster?

She sneaks a look back, too fast for me to catch it.

She knows I’ve been waylaid . . . and she’s not stopping.

Roy’s going on about his right to stay in this town, and how even Mindy says she doesn’t have a problem with him.

“Wait,” I say. “You talked to Mindy? You were ordered to stay away from her.”

Diana is gone. She was there a moment ago, but when I glance back, she’s not.

Damn it, Diana. And damn me, too, as the fool who keeps trusting you.

She knew I was delayed, and she went ahead and took off with Paul.

I turn to Roy. “I know nothing about what Phil told you. I haven’t spoken to him all day. Your residency is entirely up to the council. We only enforce their decisions.”

“Bullshit. You and your boyfriend run this town. A couple of children, barely old enough to wipe your own asses. Overeducated millennials, so concerned with protecting everyone’s rights that you never actually accomplish anything.”

“Millennials?” Jen says as she walks over. “I resent that. Casey and Eric might be, but I’m Gen X. Whole different set of stereotypes.”

“Jen, can you take him?”

She grabs Roy by the arm. “Come on, big fellow. Let’s get you home. Maybe, if you’re good, we can cut off the rest of that beard. Though, I gotta say, it’s kind of working for you.”

Roy doesn’t go quietly, of course, but Jen has this under control.

I jog to where I last saw Diana. There’s no sign of her. Or Paul.

*

It takes me far too long to find Diana and Paul. Long enough that they’re already deep in conversation, which is how I locate them, picking up the whisper of their words.

“You have about five minutes until Casey shows up,” Diana is saying. “She’s been hounding me, trying to find out what that marshal said. I saw her just back there. Roy stopped her, and that’ll slow her down, but she’s going to catch up any second, and when she does, you and I are done with this conversation. The offer closes.”

“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm-hmm, which is why you were so quick to intercept me to ask what the marshal said? Idle curiosity? You’re wasting my time, Paul. You’re on Casey’s short list of suspects. You were on mine, too, after what the marshal told me. Now I know you’re the one he came for. I see it in your face. You’ve got a day or two before Casey figures it out. You’ve only got five minutes—three now—to convince me to feed her false information.”

“What did he say?”

“White guy. Someone we’d never suspect. Probably close to us, part of the town, maybe even on the town council or militia.”

“That describes a lot—”

“New York City.”

Paul pauses and then says, “What?”

“Nice place. Ever lived there? No, actually, I don’t think you have.”

“I don’t know what—”

“Ever joined a protest, Paul? No, I didn’t think you had, despite the story that got you in here.”

He opens his mouth, but Diana keep going.

“Those are the hints the marshal gave me,” Diana says. “He said his target might have mentioned he was from New York, might have said he’d been defending a girl in a protest march, got himself in some trouble. It’s not true, apparently. It’s just the cover story his target was telling. He hoped I could identify his target for him. I couldn’t . . . at the time, anyway.”

A hand clamps around my mouth. I twist to see . . .

Roy? Seriously?

I fight halfheartedly at first. I’m not alarmed, just pissed off, wondering what the hell happened to Jen. Then Roy slams his fist into my gut so fast and so hard that I double over, gasping in shock and pain. His hand goes over my mouth again, and he hauls me away as I struggle to catch my breath.

When I finally come to my senses, I lash out with fists and feet. He hits me in the side of the head. The world dips into blackness, and I stagger. He grabs the back of my jacket and hauls me upright.

“I paid,” he snarls as he keeps dragging me. “I paid a fortune to get here, and I am not leaving. You drugged me. I know you did. You wanted me gone, and that sister of yours gave you that dope to put in my wine, give the council an excuse to kick me out.”

He’s caught me off-guard—how the hell did I let this asshole catch me off-guard?—and I’m still reeling from that blow. I need to focus. My gun’s in its holster, right under my jacket. I’m fine. I just have to get back to Diana and Paul before this all goes to hell.