Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(23)

“Enjoy.”

“I still might. I sense a great deal of repressed anger in that one. If properly channeled, it could make for excellent sex.”

I shake my head and turn toward the station, but she catches my arm.

“Let’s detour to your old house, Casey,” she says. “Introduce me to your sister. I’ll take over her care from here.”

“So you can pry out blackmail information on me?”

She gives me a look. “No. Admittedly, I am curious to meet your sister, but I will contain that curiosity better than others. They will pry—only to satisfy their curiosity, but in doing so, they’ll invade your privacy.”

“All right. I’ll introduce you to April.”

*

I take Isabel to meet April, and my sister stares. Just stares, as if a mirage has emerged from the wilderness. Or, possibly, the saloon mistress has emerged from her fine establishment.

Isabel looks like she belongs on the set of a Wild West movie. She’s mid-forties. Dark hair with a few strands of gray—we don’t import dye into Rockton. No makeup—also, not a priority. But the lack of more modern feminine grooming only adds to Isabel’s aura of old-time glamor. Her silk wrap and bare feet cement the image, and when she swans into my old house, her hand extended, I half expect her to say, “Charmed, I’m sure.” Which wouldn’t be Isabel’s style at all. Instead, it’s a firm handshake as her gaze assesses my sister.

“Isabel Radcliffe,” she says. “I will be your hostess for the next couple of days, freeing Casey to go about her duties.”

April’s gaze flicks to me. “All right . . .”

“The town knows you exist,” Isabel says, “but we will refrain from parading you about. That would be . . . unwise.”

April’s brow furrows.

A knock sounds at the door, and Isabel murmurs, “Our boys are fast on the draw. One must give them that.”

I open the door to find a trio of locals. All men. All trying to peek around us at April. I block their view.

“Yes?” I say.

“We just, uh, thought your sister might, uh, want breakfast. We could escort her—”

“Unnecessary, boys,” Isabel says, stepping around me. “I have this under control. Please, pass the word on to the others. While I’m here, Miss April will want for nothing, particularly companionship.”

Isabel shuts the door. “Reason number two why I offered to care for April. The local wildlife have caught wind of prey.”

April looks alarmed. “Wildlife?”

“The men,” Isabel says. “We have a lot of them. It’s a problem.”

April frowns.

“Three men for every woman,” I say.

My sister continues to look confused.

“Sex,” Isabel says. “They want sex. As men often do. Well, no, that’s unfair. Women want it, too. In this town, though, that is much easier to come by for us.” She looks out the front window to see the trio of men talking to another group, warning them off with a shake of their heads.

Isabel sighs. “Did you have to tell them she was your sister, Casey? Wouldn’t great-great-aunt have sufficed? You realize the stream will be nonstop.”

“You can handle it,” I say as I turn to leave. “Drum up some business for the brothel.”

April blinks. “Did you say—?”

“Your sister has a very special sense of humor, April,” Isabel says. “Come along inside, and let’s discuss how we can get your breakfast without attracting a conga line.”





NINE

I spend the day running on a treadmill while madly juggling a half-dozen grenades. It’s a solid day of absolutely zero progress, and the best I can say, at the end of it, is that nothing exploded.

Kenny runs into post-surgery complications. None of them are April’s fault, but my damn sister can’t just trust that I have the medical IQ to realize that. Nor can she seem to see those five other grenades I’m juggling. She has to summon me and make it very clear that she did not cause any of Kenny’s complications. We did, through our unacceptable pre-surgery treatment of the situation. The fact that the “unacceptable” part arose from the situation itself—Kenny being shot five miles into the forest, and us having to convey him to Rockton—doesn’t matter. It’s our fault. All ours. Specifically mine because I knew better.

Phil is furious about April being here. More furious than he is about Garcia, which spikes my temper even higher. The April situation is a well-controlled bonfire; the Garcia one is a full-blown wildfire. We need the council’s help with the latter. We do not need their bullshit threats over the former.

Currently, the council’s stance on Garcia is “get him.” Find him, bring him in, and then they’ll decide what’s to be done. Which would be awesome if we could manage the “finding” part. He’s disappeared into the woods, and the council is baffled as to how that happens—how that keeps happening. People continue to escape, and we continue to have a helluva time finding them.

It’s like dealing with my sister harping at me over Kenny’s care. I want to grab the whole damn council and throw them into the wilderness for a few days. Give them a sense of the circumstances we are dealing with. People down south have died of exposure while lost in a few miles of forest. Imagine if that person is in a forest a thousand times that size . . . and doesn’t want to be found. Garcia can literally plunk his ass down in some bushes, and unless someone stumbles over him, he’ll be safe.