Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(24)

I haven’t seen Dalton since he left this morning, but I know he’s fine. Give him a water skin and an energy bar, and he doesn’t need to come back before nightfall. Hell, in this weather, he’d be fine indefinitely, sourcing water, hunting and gathering. He also has a gun, and Garcia does not. This doesn’t, however, keep me from wishing our sheriff would swing by once or twice. He doesn’t.

I’m juggling as fast as I can, powered by caffeine and cookies. When I zip into the station to refuel on both, footsteps follow me.

“If you’re volunteering for patrol duty, go speak to . . .”

I turn to see Petra closing the door behind her, and there’s a moment where I think “Thank God.” In this town, I have more female relationships than I’ve ever had in my life, and I am grateful for that. They are complicated, at times fractious, but they are real, with none of that sugar-coated crap I grew up reading and seeing on television, girls linking arms and vowing to be BFFs forever, them against the world. Of all these relationships, there is only one that is truly steady. One friend who is always there for me and never complicates my life. Who never needs more than I can give, never demands anything.

That is Petra.

No, that was Petra.

Two days ago, Dalton and I were bringing Oliver Brady back to face whatever fate the council decided for him. He never made it. Someone in the forest shot him. Dalton and I both saw who did it: the woman standing before me, the woman I thought I knew, the woman I apparently did not know at all. Petra shot Brady, and when we called her on it, she told us we were mistaken.

Nope, sorry, you’ve got the wrong person. Wasn’t me. Uh-uh.

At the time, Kenny was the bigger concern, so I tabled this discussion. With Garcia on the run, I’d like to keep tabling it.

“Yes?” I say, my voice chilling.

“I saw you gave Storm to Brian and Devon.”

“Yes.” I take a couple of cookies from the box that Brian dropped off. “Someone needs to watch her.”

“That someone has always been me.”

“It isn’t now.”

“I’d like to talk about that.”

I spin on her. “Really? No, Petra, you will not be dog-sitting for us again, and that is the least of your worries. If it seems like we’ve dropped what happened with Brady, we have not. It’s on the back burner while we extinguish other fires.”

I take a step toward her. “I saw you. Eric saw you. There is absolutely no doubt in either of our minds who killed Oliver Brady, and I would strongly suggest that, instead of worrying about losing your dog-sitting gig, you take this time to worry about that. Because it has not been forgotten.”

“I know.”

“So you came here to admit to it?”

She moves back. “I came to suggest that you do drop the matter.”

I stare at her. Then I burst out laughing.

She has the grace to flinch at that laugh. “What I’m trying to say, Casey, is that it’s a moot point. Whoever shot Oliver Brady did not kill an innocent man. In fact, I’d say they did—”

I surge forward, and she backpedals so fast she smacks into the wall.

I advance on her. “If you are about to say they did me a favor, I’d remind you that I’ve had zero sleep in forty-eight hours.”

Petra straightens, her face setting in a look that, a week ago, would have surprised me. It is hard, and it is unflinching, and it warns me to step the hell back—now.

I stay in her face, waiting.

“I was going to say that whoever did this made the right move,” she says. “The move that you, understandably, could not. I would also remind you that Oliver Brady wasn’t the only person to die in that clearing. And I didn’t pull that trigger.”

“No, you did not. The difference is that I killed a direct threat to Eric. Oliver Brady was in custody, and no threat to anyone.”

“No threat?”

“If you’re saying he could have escaped again—”

“No, I’m saying he didn’t need to escape to be a threat. What would have happened if you brought him back alive?”

“Phil would have taken him into custody, on behalf of the council.”

“Exactly. The council would have whisked Oliver Brady away. And Rockton doesn’t trust the council. I’m sorry, Casey, but you and Eric—and others—have made sure of that.”

“Excuse me?”

She sidesteps past me and walks further into the room. “You have reason to mistrust them. The situation here has been mismanaged. No one is arguing that. But the upshot is that the town trusts you, and they do not trust the council. People wouldn’t trust them to properly handle Brady.”

“Whatever issues we have with the council, we don’t broadcast those to the town.”

“You don’t need to.” She sits on the edge of the desk. “Your contempt is clear.”

“That’s—”

“Fine. Forget contempt for the council. Forget mistrust of the council. Forget paranoia of the council. Let’s pretend people trust the council to take Brady back to face justice. The fact remains that Oliver Brady hated us. He had every reason to want to destroy Rockton and all it stood for. What was to stop him from doing exactly that once he left here? He could not be allowed to leave.”