City of the Lost (Casey Duncan #1)(68)

“I’ve got this,” he says as he rises.

“No, I’ll handle it.”

It’s Diana. She’s hovering just inside the station, one hand still on the door frame. There’s this look on her face, exactly like when she had to crawl back after dumping me for the popular girls in high school.

“Can we talk?” she says.

“Casey’s busy,” Dalton says behind me. “We’ve had a—”

I cut him off by turning with a quiet but firm, “I’ll handle this.”

Steel seeps into his gaze as it stays fixed on Diana. He looks about two seconds from throwing her back onto the street.

“I have this,” I say, firmer.

He’s still bristling, like a guard dog sensing trouble. But after a moment he turns on his heel and stalks back onto the deck, muttering something I don’t catch.

When he’s gone, I turn to Diana. “We found Jerry Hastings, and it wasn’t good. Dalton’s right. I’ve had a long day.”

“A drink? That’ll help you—”

“No.” I resist the urge to add an I’m sorry. I’m not doing it. Not now. “I’m going to turn in early. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Can I at least apologize?”

“You don’t need to.” Because I don’t need to hear it. “Have a good night. I’ll go get some sleep.”

I turn and walk out the back door before she can respond.





Two



Dalton didn’t even shut the inside door—just the screen.

“You should get a good night’s rest,” he says.

Not even going to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping, are you? I suspect he didn’t mean to be rude—he was just listening, in case Diana gave me a hard time.

I nod. “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I start for the door again.

“Hold up,” he says. “I’m turning in, too, and we’re going the same way. It’s quieter walking the back route. No one to pester us about the case.”

We set out, taking his personal highway along the border. I ask how he’s doing, given what we found earlier. He gives me a shrug and an honest, “Trying to forget it.”

“Marginally successful?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Same here. I know Hastings wasn’t a good person …”

“No one deserves to die like that.”

I nod, and when I go quiet, he gives me that long, cool stare.

“Which doesn’t mean some people don’t deserve to die,” he says. “Just not like that.”

I squirm and veer a little to the side.

“Did you go there planning to shoot him?” he asks.

I realize he means Blaine. “Of course not,” I say before I can stop myself. I take a deep breath. “I’d rather stick to—”

“Blaine Saratori didn’t deserve to die. He deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life and spend weeks in hospital and months in rehab, and never really get over it, not physically, not psychologically. But that wasn’t going to happen. You didn’t plan to shoot him, but it’s bullshit to pretend you killed an innocent man. And it’s bullshit to even think about that in comparison to this.”

“I don’t believe I said I was thinking of it.”

“You were. But I’ll shut up about it. For now.”

“How about for good?”

His snort says Not a chance. Then he points up. “That was a great horned owl.”

I peer into the night sky.

“It’s gone now,” he says. “I’m changing the conversation. But as long as you’re looking up, do you see that?”

I follow his finger to see a distant strip of swirling green through the clouds.

“Is that …?” I begin. “The northern lights? I didn’t think I’d be far enough up for them.”

“You are. It’s just coming into the right season, so you won’t get a lot of good views yet. It’s been overcast, too.”

“What causes it?”

As we continue walking, he explains that it’s electrically charged protons and electrons from the sun entering the earth’s atmosphere at the poles. I’m so engrossed in looking up that I nearly bash into a tree. He gets a chuckle out of that. When we reach my yard, he says, “There’s your fox,” and I see it slipping from the forest edge.

“It’s not mine,” I say, giving him a smile. “Because that would be wrong. A wild animal is not a pet.”

He shrugs. “Can still be yours. Just don’t try domesticating it.”

We watch as the fox trots back to its den with something in its mouth.

“Grouse,” he says.

“Which is a bird, right?”

He sighs.

“Hey, you promised me a book. I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Been a little preoccupied. And I’m making sure you actually want it and aren’t just trying to be nice.”

“I’m never nice.”

“You’re always nice, Casey. Or at least you try your damnedest to fake it, because you think that’s what people want from you. Don’t give me that look. If you walk into it, I’m allowed to analyze.”