City of the Lost (Casey Duncan #1)(134)

“When you came to Rockton, you didn’t know Eric,” I say. “I’m sure the council told you stories that made him seem like a loose cannon. Informing on him was the price of admittance. Then you got to know him, and you realized you could help him by reporting things that didn’t matter, making the council think he was being monitored.”

Anders exhales. “Yes. Thank you.”

“The shooting …” I prompt.

“Why did I do that?” He goes quiet long enough that I don’t think I’m getting an answer. When he does speak, his voice is barely audible. “Anything I can say feels like an excuse. A good man is dead at my hand. Two good men were wounded. That can’t be excused.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I think you understand that. Better than anyone.”

“Give me a why, then.”

“There is no why. Not like with you. They didn’t …” He fidgets in his bed, wincing as he pulls against his bandages. “They did nothing to even remotely deserve it, Casey. It was me. All me. I was … I had problems. Coping. I saw something. Over there. A mission went bad and things happened and something snapped. I blamed my CO, but not like that, not like I wanted to kill him for it. They put me on meds, and there were side effects. Rage, mental confusion. I wanted to stop taking them, and I just damned well should have, but I agreed to give it one more week.”

He goes quiet and I wonder if that’s all I’m getting. Then he says, “I remember going to bed. The next thing I knew, I was standing by his bed, and then I’m suddenly outside his quarters looking down at two wounded men. I still do not know what happened. But that’s no excuse, is it? I kept taking the meds when I knew better. I pulled that trigger. The army wasn’t going to send me home with a dishonourable discharge. I was looking at life in a mental ward or a prison cell because I was responsible. No one else.”

I move to the bed, and I sit beside him, and that’s it. We just sit there. In silence. Like we did in the cave. Lost in remorse and guilt that won’t ever go away. Not for either of us. There are no excuses here. No easy answers, either. We’ll spend the rest of our lives dealing with what we did. Period.


As for Jacob, Dalton’s dealing with that, too. I’ll help, as much as I can, but it’s his brother, and I understand that. The fact that we no longer have a doctor in Rockton complicates matters—with both Jacob’s withdrawal and Anders’s recovery. We’ve called on anyone with any medical training to step up. Except that two of those three people are also on Dalton’s watch list, having bought their way into Rockton. Complicated? Fuck, yes, as Dalton would say. But we’ll deal. We have to.

Then there’s Diana. We know she didn’t kill Mick, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still being deported. I haven’t talked to her since I learned the truth. I’ve been telling myself that I can have that talk in Dawson City, more privately. Except with Anders incapacitated, I need to stay behind as the only law enforcement in town.

Two days after Beth leaves, the council decides Dalton is well enough to take Diana out and I promise to speak to her that morning. At eleven, Dalton finds me still at my desk.

“We leave in an hour, Casey.”

I keep writing. “I just need to finish this report.”

“I’ll do it. You go see Diana.”

When I don’t answer, he shifts his weight and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not pushing you to be a jerk, Casey. I just think if you don’t …”

“I’ll regret losing the opportunity for closure. Diana is about to walk out of it forever, and there are things I need to say.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we …?” I inhale. “I know you’re on a schedule, but is there any way we can walk? Just walk?”

He nods, and we head out.


We head into the forest and keep going until we’re not walking anymore, and he’s clearing my mind with something other than conversation. I need that. I really do. I need all of it—the forest and him and, afterward, those moments of silence, lying on the ground, watching him stare into the woods, and the absolute peace of seeing his expression and understanding it.

“Can I … get your advice?” I ask. “About Diana. What I’m going to say to her. I want to resolve this, but I don’t want our last moments to turn into a confrontation.”

He gives me that dissection look, and I add, “I don’t want to let her off the hook, either,” and he nods at that, satisfied that I’m not going to accept whatever she dishes out and tell myself I deserve it. I’m past that. Finally past it.

“Tell me what you want to say,” he says, and I do.





Fourteen



We’re nearly back to town when Kenny radioes that he has Diana at the station. We’re taking her out that way rather than marching her through town. We haven’t let the others know what she’s done, but news has travelled, along with the opinion that she shouldn’t be allowed to get on that plane and sail off scot-free.

We go into the station and Diana’s there, with her back to us. Dalton takes Kenny out the back. I wait until the screen door shuts. Then I say, “I’d like to talk.”

“Too late.” Diana turns, and there’s an ugly smile on her face. “You had time to talk to me, Casey. You didn’t. You’ve lost your chance to apologize.”