Watcher in the Woods: A Rockton Novel

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Okay.”

  “Then I ask Diana about Paul hitting on her, whether he’s hinted why he’s here. Turns out he’s bragged to her about having money, enough to suggest he’s one of our white collar criminals. Still, yes, he could be puffing himself up, trying to get her attention.”

  He’s quiet for a moment. “None of it says ‘I killed Agent Garcia,’ but yeah, he makes a helluva good suspect.”

  “Also, Paul had time and opportunity to shoot Garcia. After Phil pulled his gun on us with Wallace, Paul was the one who walked back home. He knew Phil had the gun, and he probably saw where he kept it. I can confirm that with Phil, but I don’t want to toss the council a suspect. He could easily have taken it while we were tracking Garcia. Then he offers to man the radio. He did offer—Will confirmed that. Paul offered to take the radio and to watch Roy.”

  Dalton breaths. “Fuck. Yeah. So he gets the call. He leaves Roy’s cell door unlocked, setting up an alternate suspect. He runs and tells others to help find Will . . .”

  “While he sneaks into the forest and cuts us off. And there’s one more thing. Yesterday, Jen didn’t want Roy in the clinic with Kenny alone overnight while Kenny was incapacitated. Where did Paul end up after his suicide attempt?”

  “In the clinic with Garcia. Well, with Garcia’s body, but he didn’t know the guy was dead.”

  “So he attempts suicide and expects to recover in the clinic, alone overnight with a dying man. Easy enough to finish him off. We’d wonder, of course, but hey, it’s Paul. The poor guy tried to take his own life, and if Marshal Garcia succumbed to his injuries while Paul was in the next room, that’s just really unfortunate timing.”

  “Okay, so bring Paul—”

  The door opens. My sister walks in.

  “I need to talk to you,” she says.

  “Can it wait? We’re in the middle of—”

  “No, it cannot wait. I wish to apply for residence.”

  I look at Dalton, but his expression says he also thinks he’s misheard.

  “You . . .” I begin.

  “Your town requires a doctor. I am offering my services for a six-month term. I expect room and board and whatever credit stipend you pay. I also require a private residence. The one beside the clinic would be ideal for its location. I know Nicole is currently living there, but Kenny says that was temporary, pending the arrival of a new doctor.”

  “Did Kenny talk you into this?”

  “I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Casey.”

  “Right, but you have a career—”

  “I will take a Sabbatical. I have discussed . . .” She trails off, and her gaze shifts, still hard, just not quite meeting mine. “I have raised the possibility recently, so that I might pursue my own interests, as one does on Sabbatical. Financially, I do not need to work for the next six months. Or ever again. I have invested wisely, and I am free to do as I please. You require a doctor. While I am not a general practitioner, I am a trained medical physician, one who, unlike Doctor Atelier, has practiced. Also, unlike him, I am willing to do the work.”

  She steps toward us. “I don’t know who you had as a doctor before me, but they overlooked many opportunities in equipping and stocking your clinic. I realize you are under restrictions here, with the remote location and the limited electrical supply, however, I see that as a challenge, one I would enjoy.”

  Her eyes shine brighter than I’ve ever seen them, her face flush with what I can only call excitement. When she starts to admit that she’d enjoy the work, she stops short, and I see her mentally withdrawing from that word, looking for a way around it. She straightens her shoulders. “You need a doctor. I am willing and able to fulfill that position.”

  April wants to stay. I have done the impossible. I’ve shown her something that actually piqued her interest.

  I dowse the childish thrill rising in me. Tread carefully here. Do not let my own excitement blind me to the fact this is completely out of character.

  “The weather is lovely now,” I say, “but when winter comes—”

  “It’s the north,” she says. “I have ventured outside Vancouver, Casey, and I do not forget Ontario winters.”

  “Okay, I just—”

  “It’s cold and it’s dark,” she says. “I understand that. I’m not saying I look forward to taking up winter sports. I will leave that to you, Casey. For me, a long and dark winter means time to read and focus on my personal projects. I will also require books. I realize that your supply runs are limited, but an ebook reader requires relatively little charge, and I’m sure you could upload books onto it when you are in Dawson. Books of my choosing, primarily work related, but . . .” She clears her throat. “I may also find time for fiction, which I realize is frivolous . . .”

  “It’s entertainment,” I say. “And a much needed mental vacation. We have absolutely no problem with that. I think we can supply an ebook reader . . .”

  I look at Dalton, who gives a helpless shrug, and I realize he’s not even sure what that is.

  “We’ll work it out,” I say.

  “Good,” she says. “I understand what life is like up here, and I have spoken to Kenny at length about it.”

  “Kenny . . .” I say.

  “Yes, he’s one of the reasons I will be staying.” She hurries on, “To help his rehabilitation, of course.”

  I sneak a look at Dalton. Am I imagining that flush in my sister’s cheeks? Because if I’m not . . .

  Does April have a crush on Kenny?

  I’m not even sure what to do with that. I do know what to do with this situation, though. What I must do, as much as I’d love to leap at the opportunity. Because it is an opportunity, not only to get a doctor but to fulfill that little-girl dream, where my sister actually wants to be near me. It doesn’t matter if she hasn’t said a word about wanting that, this is closer than I’ve ever been to having April in my world.

  “Eric?” I say. “May I . . . ?” I motion to April.

  He nods and pushes off the desk. “I’ll be out back.”

  When he’s gone, I turn to my sister. “We need a doctor. You know that. I would love to have you. But this is . . . not what I expected. So I need to ask: is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  The twitch in her posture tells me there is, and my hopes plummet. Still, I push on. “If there’s a reason you want to be here, something you have to escape for a while, then we can talk about that. But we need to know. You saw what we just dealt with, having a Federal marshal show up. We cannot be blindsided.”

  “You need a doctor, Casey, and I am offering to do that. I don’t believe I require a reason.”

  “Actually, yes, you do. I’m sorry, April. While I don’t know you nearly as well as I’d like, I still know Rockton is not your idea of paradise. It wasn’t mine. I came here for Diana, and yes, I love it now, but there are very, very few people who’d hear about a place like this and say ‘sign me up.’ You aren’t one of those. You want to stay for a reason.”

  She glowers at me, and I’m ready for her argument. One that will make me feel like a bratty child for questioning my sister’s motives. I stand firm, and she meets my gaze, and there is a silence that seems to stretch forever.

  Then she says, “I need a break.”

  “Okay.”

  She wants to leave it at that. When she can tell I’m not going to let her, she marches across the room.

  She stands in front of the fireplace with her back to me. More silence. I don’t break it. I can’t.

  “I love my work,” she says.

  “I know.”

  “It is not easy work. I appreciate a challenge. I have, in the past few years . . .” She takes a deep breath. “I pushed myself harder than I should have. After you left . . .”

  She spins on her heel. “You left, Casey. With a ten-second phone call, you left.”

  “I told you I was going. It wouldn’t have been a ten-second call if you hadn’t made it clear I was interru
pting—”

  “I was distracted. I wasn’t paying attention. I thought you were . . .” She flutters her hands. “Being you. Diana has a crisis. Poor Diana. Must run and save Diana. Forget your family. Forget your sister. Diana needs you.”

  I step toward her, but she backs up, stiffening. I lower my voice. “You never needed me, April. If you had, I’d have been there—”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “Since Mom and Dad died, you have made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “I still knew you were there, if I ever needed you. And then you weren’t. First, Mom and Dad, and then you . . .” She sucks in breath. “I pushed myself too hard at work. I had an episode. I needed a rest.”

  A breakdown. That’s what she’s telling me, in her way. She had a breakdown while I was gone.

  “April, I’m sorry—”

  “No need. I am fine. I have questioned . . .” She stops, her voice quaking. “Regarding my work, I have questioned what I am doing and where I am going. I need a break. I know that. I hated stopping during my episode, and yet when you offered me the chance to come here—the excuse to take a few days off—I jumped at it. When you first suggested I might not be able to leave quickly, I panicked. And then I was relieved. I need a break. This will do.”

  I nod slowly. “All right. That makes sense. We’ll speak to the council, but I suspect it’ll be an easy yes. We can take you home to make arrangements. You’ll need to speak to friends and colleagues, set them at ease, particularly whomever you called before you came up here—”

  “No one.” She blurts the word. Her cheeks color, and she averts her gaze. “I feigned placing a call. There is no one . . .”

  When she trails off, my heart breaks a little.

  “Colleagues then,” I say quickly. “You need to let them know you’ll be gone.”

  She nods.

  “We’ll sort this with the council,” I say. “And then we’ll take you home to straighten everything else. First, though, I have a murder to solve.”

  FORTY-SIX

  We put Isabel in charge of talking to Phil about April. I know my sister is eager to get an answer, and this is really not the time for me to handle it. I have a suspect to test, and a plan for doing that. This plan involves Diana again. She knew that, and she’s been waiting. While Dalton goes to give Isabel her task, I set out to speak to Diana.

  I’m talking to her behind the general store when she spots Paul.

  “Perfect timing,” she says, and she starts to leave.

  “Hold up,” I say. “Eric’s not back yet, and Paul isn’t going anywhere . . .”

  Too late. She’s already jogging toward Paul, and if I chase her, he’ll suspect a setup. Damn Diana.

  I shake my head and glance around for Dalton. Then I turn my attention to Diana, as she walks briskly across the road from Paul. He spots her, slows and crosses to speak to her.

  Bait taken.

  I walk from behind the store and peer about, as if looking for someone. Diana grabs Paul’s arm and whispers something. He glances in my direction, and then quickly looks away. Diana shuttles him off, their backs to me.

  Now, the plan is for her to take him into the woods to talk. I’ll follow at a—

  “You!” a voice says.

  I turn to see Roy bearing down on me.

  “I want to talk to you, Detective.”

  “Not now. I’m—”

  “I don’t give a shit what you’re doing. I am a citizen of this town, and you can take two minutes to listen to me.”

  I glance toward Diana, to warn her I’ve been waylaid.

  “Do me the goddamn courtesy of looking when I’m talking to you,” Roy booms.

  “Give me one hour. Come by the station at—”

  “You’re kicking me out. I just heard it from that pretty boy who took Val’s place. He says I’m gone. This is bullshit.”

  I cast a surreptitious glance in Diana’s direction. There is no way she can’t hear Roy, yet she hasn’t stopped. Hasn’t slowed.

  Is it my imagination or is she walking even faster?

  She sneaks a look back, too fast for me to catch it.

  She knows I’ve been waylaid . . . and she’s not stopping.

  Roy’s going on about his right to stay in this town, and how even Mindy says she doesn’t have a problem with him.

  “Wait,” I say. “You talked to Mindy? You were ordered to stay away from her.”

  Diana is gone. She was there a moment ago, but when I glance back, she’s not.

  Damn it, Diana. And damn me, too, as the fool who keeps trusting you.

  She knew I was delayed, and she went ahead and took off with Paul.

  I turn to Roy. “I know nothing about what Phil told you. I haven’t spoken to him all day. Your residency is entirely up to the council. We only enforce their decisions.”

  “Bullshit. You and your boyfriend run this town. A couple of children, barely old enough to wipe your own asses. Overeducated millennials, so concerned with protecting everyone’s rights that you never actually accomplish anything.”

  “Millennials?” Jen says as she walks over. “I resent that. Casey and Eric might be, but I’m Gen X. Whole different set of stereotypes.”

  “Jen, can you take him?”

  She grabs Roy by the arm. “Come on, big fellow. Let’s get you home. Maybe, if you’re good, we can cut off the rest of that beard. Though, I gotta say, it’s kind of working for you.”

  Roy doesn’t go quietly, of course, but Jen has this under control.

  I jog to where I last saw Diana. There’s no sign of her. Or Paul.

  * * *

  It takes me far too long to find Diana and Paul. Long enough that they’re already deep in conversation, which is how I locate them, picking up the whisper of their words.

  “You have about five minutes until Casey shows up,” Diana is saying. “She’s been hounding me, trying to find out what that marshal said. I saw her just back there. Roy stopped her, and that’ll slow her down, but she’s going to catch up any second, and when she does, you and I are done with this conversation. The offer closes.”

  “I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Mmm-hmm, which is why you were so quick to intercept me to ask what the marshal said? Idle curiosity? You’re wasting my time, Paul. You’re on Casey’s short list of suspects. You were on mine, too, after what the marshal told me. Now I know you’re the one he came for. I see it in your face. You’ve got a day or two before Casey figures it out. You’ve only got five minutes—three now—to convince me to feed her false information.”

  “What did he say?”

  “White guy. Someone we’d never suspect. Probably close to us, part of the town, maybe even on the town council or militia.”

  “That describes a lot—”

  “New York City.”

  Paul pauses and then says, “What?”

  “Nice place. Ever lived there? No, actually, I don’t think you have.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Ever joined a protest, Paul? No, I didn’t think you had, despite the story that got you in here.”

  He opens his mouth, but Diana keep going.

  “Those are the hints the marshal gave me,” Diana says. “He said his target might have mentioned he was from New York, might have said he’d been defending a girl in a protest march, got himself in some trouble. It’s not true, apparently. It’s just the cover story his target was telling. He hoped I could identify his target for him. I couldn’t . . . at the time, anyway.”

  A hand clamps around my mouth. I twist to see . . .

  Roy? Seriously?

  I fight halfheartedly at first. I’m not alarmed, just pissed off, wondering what the hell happened to Jen. Then Roy slams his fist into my gut so fast and so hard that I double over, gasping in shock and pain. His hand goes over my mouth again, and he hauls me away as I struggle to catch my breath.

  When I fin
ally come to my senses, I lash out with fists and feet. He hits me in the side of the head. The world dips into blackness, and I stagger. He grabs the back of my jacket and hauls me upright.

  “I paid,” he snarls as he keeps dragging me. “I paid a fortune to get here, and I am not leaving. You drugged me. I know you did. You wanted me gone, and that sister of yours gave you that dope to put in my wine, give the council an excuse to kick me out.”

  He’s caught me off-guard—how the hell did I let this asshole catch me off-guard?—and I’m still reeling from that blow. I need to focus. My gun’s in its holster, right under my jacket. I’m fine. I just have to get back to Diana and Paul before this all goes to hell.

  Goddamn it, Diana. I cannot trust you, and I’m a fool for thinking I can.

  I let myself go limp. Until now I’ve been scuttling along as he drags me. When I let my knees give way, he staggers backward. I close my eyes, as if I passed out.

  He curses and drops me. I play dead . . . or unconscious, at least, lying on the ground like a rag doll. He grabs me by the jacket. Then he stops, and I don’t have to open my eyes to know what’s stopped him. My holster. He sees it. And he sees it’s empty.

  I swing into the back of his knee. His leg folds, and I give him a shove. He punches at me. I kick him. Then as he’s falling, I slam my fist into his stomach. That’s petty and unprofessional, and I don’t give a damn. With my gun in my left hand, I plow my right fist into his stomach. He doubles over, and I put him down, flat on his back. Then I point the gun at him.

  When he starts to rise, I say, “It’s only you and me out here, Roy. Give me an excuse. Please.”

  He pauses and then lies down.

  “Hands over your head,” I say.

  I see movement to my left as Dalton jogs over. I hand him the cuff strap. “Can you take over here? I have no idea what happened to Jen, who was supposed to be guarding his ass.”