Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(22)

That isn’t an option now.

I tell the residents that we’re actively hunting the intruder. When he is found, the council will deal with the situation. That’s our only option now. Turn him over to them. Let them make the call. Let them handle it, and if handling it means a shallow grave for Mark Garcia, well, my only real concern is that the council doesn’t insist Dalton carry out that sentence. I trust they won’t. That isn’t their way. They’ll send someone for Garcia, and he’ll get on a plane. The problem will go away, and for once, maybe I’ll actually be thanking them. It’s not the resolution I would have wanted, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it might be the best.

“For now,” I say, “all excursions are canceled. Militia will receive double credits for overtime. Other militia-trained citizens may assist patrols for full pay. We will lock down the border of this town. You may continue to wander freely during the day. However, we will be imposing an after dark-curfew, meaning . . . well, this time of year, that’s midnight to four AM, when you should all be sleeping anyway.”

I get some laughs for that, people relaxing.

I continue, “At night, lock up and draw your blackout blinds. Do not answer your door to anyone. If we need you . . .”

“If they need you, the sheriff has the master key,” says a voice beside me, “and he isn’t afraid to use it.”

I look to see Isabel on her upper balcony, wearing a silk wrapper and sipping a coffee.

“That’s right,” I say. “So doors stay closed and locked. Any questions?”

“Who’s the woman?” someone calls from the crowd.

“Isabel,” I say. “I know, you don’t recognize her in that robe. She’s come out to announce free morning coffee with a whiskey chaser for everyone. Just pop by the Roc. Tell her I sent you.”

That gets a laugh, drowning out Isabel’s reply. It does not, however, distract from the question, and as soon as the laughter dies down, that voice in the crowd says, “No, the woman staying in your house.”

There’s a momentary urge to pass this off, pretend he’s mistaken. Woman? What woman? But a couple of others join in, one saying, “She looks like you. She’s a relative, right?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. There is a woman staying in my house. She has nothing to do with the man we’re hunting. She’s . . .” Oh, hell, just get this over with. “She’s my sister. She’s a neurosurgeon, and we brought her in to treat Kenny.”

There’s a movement in the crowd, and I look to see Phil striding to the front, his expression warning that he’d better be mishearing me.

I continue. “As you know, Kenny was shot in the back, and we were unable to airlift him out for the emergency medical attention he required. We decided to bring my sister in. Our hope was to make it a very quick visit and to segregate her from the population, for your privacy.”

Phil looks positively apoplectic by this point, his eyes blazing behind his hipster glasses.

I keep going. “I am pleased to report that my sister conducted surgery on Kenny yesterday. Working with Will and Mathias, they were able to dislodge the bullet. We don’t know the prognosis yet, but the surgery was successful.”

A round of applause. Phil plants himself at the foot of my platform, blocking my exit once I’m done.

“If I may.” Isabel’s dulcet tones cut through the chatter as well as Dalton’s shout. “I believe I speak for us all when I say we are very grateful to your sister, Casey, for her time and expertise. I hope she will give us the opportunity to say as much. I understand your concern for our safety, in keeping her sequestered, but she is your sister. That is enough for me.”

A chorus of agreement follows.

“We appreciate the council’s thoughtfulness in this,” she continues. “We would hope that if any of us were in the same situation as Kenny, we would receive the same treatment.”

Phil aims a glare Isabel’s way. She heads inside, as if this ends the matter. I take my cue from her, thanking everyone and imparting a few final warnings while assuring them this matter will be resolved as soon as possible.

As I turn to climb down, Phil ascends. “You—”

“Can’t talk,” I say. “With Eric and Will gone, I need to organize the volunteers.”

“Your sister—”

“—is a highly trained professional,” Mathias says, climbing the steps behind him. “We are grateful for her expertise, as Isabel said. Grateful too, to the council, for displaying such understanding in this matter.”

If looks could kill, Phil was preparing to launch a nuclear warhead. I hop from the platform and start for the station. Isabel is outside now, and she joins me, still in her wrapper, legs and feet bare.

“So you snuck your sister in,” she says as we walk. “Well played.”

I make a noise under my breath. “I’d rather not need to play games at all.”

“I know. But you’re so good, it would be a shame to deprive us of the entertainment. Eric’s performance last night was breathtaking. Even I never suspected he was distracting us while he snuck your sister into town.” She pulls her wrapper tighter. “Phil will be fine. He just needs to learn his place. Which is not with the big girls and boys. A shame really. He’s terribly pretty.”