That’s what he’s putting on display here. Youth and health. A young bull in the cattle market. Healthy and strong. No signs of deformity or breeding issues. Good, viable stock. Because that’s how Moses is looking at him, and Sebastian knows it. A potential suitor for his daughter. A potential mate for his daughter.
If the settlements have one problem, it’s a lack of external bloodlines. That’s the reason Edwin finally relented when Sidra brought Baptiste home. He might not like her husband being from the other settlement, but at least there was no question of inbreeding. That’s what Moses is thinking here. A healthy, strong, intelligent young man who cannot possibly be related to his daughter.
Sebastian is setting him up.
“Sebastian?” I say. “May I speak to you a moment?”
He follows me off to the side. He doesn’t jog after me with his usual puppylike enthusiasm. He strides purposefully. A strong-willed young man who recognizes authority but retains his self-assurance in the face of a possible reprimand. Keeping on the persona he wants to present for Moses.
“What are you up to?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.
Anyone else would feign surprise, confusion, maybe even irritation at the accusation. Sebastian only grins, unperturbed.
“Nothing bad,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
“I didn’t think it was something bad,” I say. “Which doesn’t mean I’m not still worried.”
His grin grows. “Good call. But in this case, you don’t need to be. I’m defusing the situation in a mutually beneficial manner.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I go with them, of my own volition and against Eric’s wishes, so it’s clear he didn’t cave to their demands. I take the bike—if that’s okay—so I can leave anytime I want. And, yes, I can run messages between you. Also, if I really am an honored guest—which I think I will be, if I play this right—then I’ll get access to things you and Eric can’t. Information on the settlement.”
“So you’re spying.”
He shrugs. “If you want to call it that, sure. But also . . .” Another shrug, one shoulder lifting. “I’m worried about Felicity. The settlers are being assholes, and they’re pissing off Eric. I want to shove past the stalemate.”
I eye him.
“I promise not to hurt anyone unless my own safety is at stake,” he says.
“It’s not them I’m worried about. They might call you a guest, but you’re still a hostage.”
He winks. “I can look after myself.”
I still hesitate.
“They didn’t want Will because he’s big and scary. They’ll take me because I’m neither of those things. Which proves they are shitty judges of character all around, so we might as well use it to our advantage, right?”
I nod and wave Dalton over to make the final decision.
27
Sebastian will go with the settlers after he gets the dirt bike. Also, the settlers may not “escort” us back to Rockton. If Sebastian really is a guest, they’ll accept that.
As for Edwin and Felicity, the settlers will conduct their search, and we’ll conduct ours independently, which keeps them from breathing down our necks.
Moses agrees. So does Leon. Angus is furious, but he’s too young to have any say in the matter. Maybe his hostility should make me worry for Sebastian’s safety but, like Sebastian said, he can take care of himself. I may feel weirdly protective of him, but he isn’t a child.
We’re quiet on the walk back. Anders keeps glancing at Dalton, and then over at me, his mouth tight with worry. What happened back there was a shit show, and Anders doesn’t even know the half of it. I’ll tell him the rest later.
We saved the settlers, and they turned on us while we’d been recovering from the shock of the bear attack. They’d demanded a hostage and, while we’ve been clear that’s not what Sebastian will be, Dalton still feels as if he’s lost ground here. It’s not so much about the hostage as the fact that they won their original goal—getting our help—and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. What’s our other option? Abandon Edwin and Felicity to prove a point?
See, you can’t boss us around. You need to ask nicely. Otherwise . . . well, sorry for your loss.
But Felicity deserves better. If only they’d asked. That’s all it would have taken to resolve this happily. We save Moses from the bears. They tell us their dilemma. We magnanimously offer to throw our resources into helping them. We come out as heroes and good neighbors, and everyone’s happy.
Except everyone wouldn’t be happy with that scenario, because it would place Edwin’s settlement deeply in our debt. Instead, sure, we helped with the bears, but they cleverly secured our assistance afterward.
The endless balance of debt and obligation. Who owes whom. People out here will risk their own lives to keep from dipping too low on the scale. Dalton cannot abide that. Burn the damn scales and act like civilized people who recognize we’re all fighting the same battle and should help each other when we can.
It doesn’t work like that. It should, but it does not.
As we walk, Anders isn’t the only one glancing at Dalton. Sebastian checks, too, and while his face never gives anything away, I know he’s concerned. Worrying that he’s made this situation worse. When we near Rockton, he asks if he can speak to Dalton while they get the dirt bike, and we let them go. Storm glances at me. She senses Dalton’s mood, and she’s asking permission to stay with him. I grant it with a wave, and she jogs after them, her huge paws pounding the ground.
Once they’re far enough away, I tell Anders about the bears. Shock turns to outrage. Demanding a hostage to secure our help was heinous enough. Add the fact that we rescued them first, and it’s the worst kind of betrayal, backing Dalton into a corner where he can only do what feels like surrender.
Speaking of betrayals . . .
I spot Petra heading back from her shift at the general store. A few hours ago, I’d been making my way to Rockton, hell-bent on confronting her with my suspicions. Now, seeing her, there’s a moment of “Hey, didn’t I want to talk to Petra about something?” before it all crashes back.
I take one step in her direction before checking myself.
“Everything okay?” Anders murmurs as I stop short.
No, everything is miles from okay. This particular problem, though, must wait. Spring days may be long, but they are not endless, and it’s past six already. We need to find Felicity’s trail, and I cannot get distracted by confronting Petra. Also, I cannot confront Petra and then walk away, leaving her with the chance to tell Émilie what we know and let Émilie—possibly both of them—fly beyond my reach before I can return.
Would they flee? That’s the question. Whatever they’ve done, the council will undoubtedly back them. Yet the council isn’t here. In their shoes, as much as I’d like to stand my ground, I’d know that the smart thing to do would be to get out of Rockton. Fast.
“Throwing Émilie in jail for the night would be a bad move, wouldn’t it?” I murmur. “Politically, I mean.”
Anders glances over. “Uh . . . not even sure I want to touch that one.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Not since she left the station earlier.” He glances at me and lowers his voice. “If you want her locked up, we’ll do that, but you might want to talk to Phil first. See how bad a move it would be. I can’t believe I’m suggesting consulting him but . . .”
Anders is right, of course. We’d need to ask Dalton, too, but he’ll agree without a second thought. If I think a suspect is a flight risk? In the cell they go, no matter who they are. It’s Phil whose opinion I’d need. I won’t ask, though, because even I know it would be a very bad idea. I’m only voicing a wish while letting Anders know we need to keep an eye on her.
I’m saying that, as quietly as possible, when Petra spots me. I tense, and Anders murmurs, “You want me to head her off?”
Will I be able to resist confronting her? Yes, with effort. Can I hide th
e fact that I want to confront her, that something is wrong? Probably not, and if I don’t, then I tip my hand, and we might very well come back to find Émilie and Petra gone.
I should tell Anders yes. Run interference please, and distract her while I escape. Yet even that could be a tip-off, however deftly handled. And there is another way. A way to divert her and make sure that, even if Émilie bolts, she won’t take Petra with her.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, yourself. Everything okay?” Her gaze trips over my clothing, and her lips twitch in a grin. “Looks like you and Eric took the opportunity for a little couple time in the woods.”
I glance down to see just how dirty and rumpled my clothing is.
“Bear,” I say.
She stops short, grin freezing. “What?”
I shrug. “I was tripped by a young grizzly. Landed flat on my back. It’s okay, though. Momma Bear considered devouring me and decided against it.”
“I . . . I think you must be joking but . . . you’re not, right?”
“Nope. It’s been a very long day. And now I could really use your help finding Edwin and Felicity.”
Another blink, as if she’s still not hearing right. “The old man and the kid? They were here, right?” She pauses. “Does this have something to do with the bears?”
“I really hope not. The more likely suspect is hostiles. Or a search party looking for the missing hikers. Or, possibly, whoever killed the settlers and the tourists, if it wasn’t the hostiles.”
“I . . .” She looks at Anders. “This all makes sense to you, does it?”
“Sadly, yes,” he says.
“So,” I continue. “What I really need is you, Petra. I’d like you to help us find Edwin and Felicity. I know you aren’t a tracker, but if they’ve been taken hostage, I might need your particular skill set.”
“Sure. When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible. I’m just going to check in with April and see how the patient is doing. Then I’ll grab a takeout dinner. We want to catch as much daylight as possible.” I pause, as if just now considering something else. “Wait. Émilie. Will she be okay by herself?”
Petra chuckles. “She flew here by herself. Believe me, she doesn’t need me to feed her. I will pick up something for her, though. She’s been resting.”
“Taking it easy?”
She hesitates long enough for me to know she suspects there’s more to it. Then she shrugs and says, as nonchalantly as possible, “That meeting took a lot out of her. She said it stirred up memories, and she needed some time. That’s why I went into work. I had the day off, but she very clearly wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and my apartment isn’t big enough for that.”
“Huh. Are you sure she’s okay?”
“I’ll check in when I drop off dinner.”
“Should I send April by later?”
“No, no—” Petra stops. A heartbeat of a pause that says so much before she forces lightness into her tone with, “Sure, that can’t hurt, right? Émilie will say she doesn’t need it, but she won’t argue. I’ll tell her April will stop by. No need for your sister to set a specific time. Émilie won’t be going out.”
If April could come by at any moment, Émilie must stay put. Yet Petra was fine leaving Émilie home alone, though, so maybe I’m reading too much into this.
Anders offers to pick up food for the search party, and I let him do that while I go talk to April, and Petra heads home to speak to Émilie.
There’s no change in Jay’s condition. He’s stable and still comatose. As I’m talking to April, I notice a report on the counter. It looks like an autopsy, but the name on it is Sophie’s. I pick it up, and before I can read anything more than a few words, April snatches it from my hand.
“You will receive the report when I complete my examination.”
“Why are you autopsying Sophie? We know how she died.”
“It is not a complete autopsy. Now that she is deceased, I am free to more thoroughly examine her wounds, which may provide greater information on the earlier attack she suffered.”
“Ah. Okay then. Thanks.”
April relaxes, though her answering nod is abrupt. Did she think I’d give her shit for taking initiative? Rockton is all about initiative. If you have spare time and you want to go beyond the call of duty, by all means, go for it, even if only to satisfy idle curiosity. Staying challenged keeps the cabin fever at bay.
That’s a conversation for later, though. Right now I’m just here to check on Jay and ask April to stop by later for Émilie, and then I’m zooming off to find Dalton and get our asses on the trail.
* * *
Anders has the militia mustered for extra patrols, but we don’t want them going too deep into the woods. Mostly they’re just listening and watching, in case an attack on Edwin and Felicity preludes an attack on Rockton.
The search party is only three people and a dog. That’s for our own safety. Each of those three has a gun. Each is trained to use it. No dead weight allowed on this mission. Dalton and Storm are our searchers. I’m in charge of Storm. Petra is our guard, allowing us to focus on the hunt.
We don’t have time to eat before we head out. It really is grab-and-go, the only exception being Storm, who ate and rested while we bustled about preparing.
We’ve asked Sebastian to walk out with us. We part ways about a half kilometer from where the settlers wait, where he hops on the bike and goes. From there, while we can’t hear the conversation as he meets them, we’ll hear trouble. We don’t.
We set Storm on the trail right out of Rockton. She knows Edwin, and while he’s never paid her much attention, she’s happy to track Felicity.
We asked the settlers to wait down a side trail for Sebastian, and when we’d returned to Rockton post-bear, we’d avoided the main path. That kept the scent as pristine as possible for Storm.
Now we backtrack to that main route and have Storm pick up Edwin and Felicity again. The problem with a scent trail like this is that they walked all the way to Rockton, and then headed back on the same path. Figuring out where they stepped off the path is trickier than if they’d been diverted on the way to Rockton. Fortunately, Storm has been trained for this. She won’t just keep her nose to the path. She’ll be looking for places where a leg of the scent trail branches off.
That happens almost as soon as we rejoin the main path. Storm signals that the scent veers right. Dalton has already seen the same diversion; a freshly cracked bush branch and disturbances in the dirt tell him someone left the path. I let him take the dog as Petra and I wait. A minute later, he’s back saying, “Piss break,” and we continue on.
Another hour passes. It’s a quiet walk. That isn’t easy for me. Petra is right beside us, and I so badly want to confront her about Émilie. Yet the more noise we make, the more we risk alerting anyone who might be around.
When I notice Dalton’s gaze surveying the wider landscape, I murmur, “Everything okay?”
“Ridgeback Peak,” he says, nodding to the right.
I pause two heartbeats. Then it hits. We’re in the rough vicinity of where we found the dead tourists. It’s also where Cherise and Owen found the settlers. I hadn’t realized it because we took a different route then.
I murmur an explanation to Petra. She hasn’t asked for one. Anders jokes about being a good soldier and not questioning orders. I suspect Petra is even more accustomed to that, having been in the line of work where you complete your task without always understanding the rationale. Sometimes, she’d have been better off not knowing. Plausible deniability.
We slow our pace while Dalton studies the undergrowth. When a distant rumble sounds, our gazes swing up, and my first thought is plane. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes looking for the missing tourists, and we feel that ticking clock. There’s no plane, though. Just darkening clouds to the south.
“Please don’t roll this way,” I murmur.
Dalton grunts his agreement. A s
torm would disturb the scent trail. For now, those clouds seem to be staying in place, the rumble of thunder equally distant.
I’m turning back to the path when Storm’s head snaps up. Her nose rises, sniffing the air. There are two types of scents a tracking dog can follow: ground and airborne. The former indicates a past trail—sloughed skin and hair wafting to settle on the ground. Airborne, though, means you’re picking up an active scent-emitting target.
“Is it a person, Storm?” I ask. “Person?”
She knows this question. We’ve had to train for it, hour upon hour of presenting her with both human and animal scents, until she could reliably tell the difference. She keeps sniffing, nose raised, and lets out a tiny whimper.
Yes, human.
Dalton’s scanning the undergrowth. His grunt says he doesn’t see a breaking point—a spot to indicate someone left the trail here. That only means they might have gone in farther down. He paces, looking for a spot to get through the dense brush. He finds one and motions for Storm’s leash. I pass it over, and he takes the lead, cutting a path into the forest for us to follow.
Ahead, Storm strains at the leash. She’s well enough trained that no scent will have her tearing into the forest. The leash only signals that this is work.
We’ve gone maybe twenty feet when a sound makes my stomach explode with panic. My knees lock and my throat dries up.
A snuffle. The low snuffle of what sounds like a bear. That panic explosion assures me that while I may seem to be coping with what happened earlier, I am not past it. My psyche has done me the favor of tucking that trauma aside so I can proceed with my day . . . until I hear this wet snuffle.
Thankfully, no one notices my overreaction. Dalton is in front of me, Petra behind, and she only bops into me before stopping. A noise in her throat says she catches the same sound. Dalton has, too, and he’s stopped, gun rising. In the front of the pack, Storm has gone still. Or so it seems until I see her back quarters quivering.
A Stranger in Town: a Rockton novel Page 24