Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(61)

“Someone opened it?”

He shifts on the bed, his hands clenching the edge. “I think I left it unlocked. No, I must have. There’s only one key, and I had it. When I found it open, I tried to remember locking it, and I couldn’t. I was busy thinking about where I’d last seen Will, so I could pass on your message, and I must have walked out and forgotten the door.”

“Was Roy there when you got back?”

He nods.

“Did you say anything to him?”

Paul shakes his head. “I was hoping . . .” He swallows. “I hoped he hadn’t noticed the door. It was closed, of course, and I figured since he was still in there, with no sign that he’d left, I’d gotten off easy. It never occurred to me that he could be the killer. This Garcia guy was a U.S. Marshal, and Roy is Canadian. Then last night, I was talking to Jen, and she said she thought this guy was lying about being a marshal. That he would know there was no way for you guys to check. I remembered Roy had asked me that over breakfast, when I first told him about Garcia.”

“He asked if Garcia was really a marshal?”

“He said something like ‘you think this guy’s really American?’ and I said that’s what he says, and he has a badge, but Roy looked worried. I didn’t think anything of it until Jen, and then I wondered ‘What if Roy thought the same thing?’ I know the marshal came for me—for my Federal warrant—but no one else realized that. Roy sure didn’t. And he was worried. Really worried.”

“About Garcia.”

Paul nods.





TWENTY-FIVE

I like Roy as a suspect. Paul’s right. He’s an asshole. It’s always so much easier when the bad guys are jerks. Even if Roy isn’t responsible for this, I’d love an excuse to get rid of him. He’s a powder keg waiting for his match.

The problem with Roy as a viable suspect is timing.

Garcia’s killer used Garcia’s gun. From our house. That gun could have been taken at any point after Dalton put it into the drawer and returned any time before Dalton put it into the locker.

I would presume that the killer got the gun when Dalton and I went searching for Garcia. The house was empty, no people, no dog. Then the killer waited for us to bring Garcia back. Now, it’s possible they waited in the forest, but that’s hours of hanging out in hopes that we returned with our quarry. With the militia and volunteers scouring the forest for Garcia, it’s unlikely anyone could stay out there half the day and not bump into someone who’d escort them back to town.

The more likely answer is that someone heard we had Garcia. After I called, Paul had been running about, searching for Anders, telling everyone what happened so they could help find our deputy. This means there were dozens of residents who knew we were slowly making our way to town with a wounded marshal.

This timing only works if the killer already had the gun. Roy didn’t. He’s been in custody since before Garcia arrived. Roy would have needed to take off after Paul left, run to our house, ransack it in hopes of finding a weapon and still make it in time to intercept us. That’s twenty minutes maximum. Not impossible but highly improbable.

I’ve barely started my hunt for Dalton when I spot Anders. I jog to catch up.

“Seen the boss?” I ask.

He chuckles. “He just asked me the same thing.”

“So he finally admits I’m the boss?”

A louder laugh. “No, sorry. But he is looking for you. I told him I was too, and whichever found you first got dibs. He’s swinging by the station, so we might be able to catch up to him.”

As we head in that direction, I say, “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Actually, you wanted to speak to me. You just didn’t realize it. Sam says you’re looking for the person who’d been in charge of Petra yesterday. That would be me. Given the circumstances, I figured you didn’t want anyone else in contact with her. Too many questions. So I handled it myself. I’m going to guess you wanted to be sure she was safely incarcerated at the time of the shooting. She was. I opened the door with her lunch about ninety minutes before you called. I returned thirty minutes later to let her use the facilities. I locked her in and double-checked it.”

“You need to teach that skill to your militia.”

His brows arch. Then he winces. “Paul and Roy.”

“Good guess. You must be psychic.”

“No, unfortunately. Just an educated guess. Paul’s been on my shit list. First, that fiasco with guard duty last winter, when he let Jen distract him. Then failing to back you up with Roy’s lynch mob last week. I was already planning to speak to Eric about relieving Paul of his militia duties. Two strikes is enough for me. Now, since I know he was guarding Roy when the call came in, I’m guessing he made it three.”

“He did. He forgot to lock the door when he took off to find you.”

“Now I have to fire a guy who just attempted suicide. Awesome.”

“Can you put him on light duty for a while?”

“Yeah, I will. Paul’s a good guy, but he’s a screw up, and while I appreciate how hard he’s worked for the militia, we can’t have that. At least you know Petra was safely in her cell, though, which is a start.”

“So you saw her an hour before the shots. When did you see her after that?”