"Yeah, yeah."
"Okay, so we don't have a lot on hostiles, then," I say. "I may need more, town records or whatever, but for now, I'll start by focusing on settlers. In the meantime, Nicole has a request, and you aren't going to like it."
THIRTY
I expect to fight Dalton on letting Nicole into the woods. I have my list of arguments prepared. The biggest one of all? I understand what she's doing and why she has to do it.
After my attack, I spent months battling an even greater enemy: fear. Forcing myself to return to the scene. Walking down alleyways. Going to bars filled with the kind of young men who reminded me of my attackers. Resuming martial arts training and letting people hit me. If I flinched doing any of that, I couldn't become a cop. I wasn't letting my attackers take that dream from me, the same way Nicole won't let her captor take her newfound love of the forest.
But I don't have to say any of that. I ask Dalton, and I explain her motivation, and he says, "Yeah, guy's not going to jump her midday. If she feels better facing it? Storm could use a good walk anyway. Go see if she's ready. I'll finish up here and get the dog."
Nicole has her coat and boots on by the time Dalton arrives. As we walk through town, she asks if Dalton can hang behind when we get into the forest. She might pretend "setting a trap" is only an excuse, but she is hoping to do that. Hoping he's out there and if he sees her, accompanied only by a small woman and a puppy, he will strike. We know that's unlikely, but Dalton agrees.
As we reach the forest edge, Nicole slows, quick breaths controlling obvious anxiety, but when either of us looks her way, she squares her thin shoulders.
Before Dalton leaves, he says, "If this becomes too much, say so. There's no one here you need to impress."
She gives him a weak smile. "Sometimes, wanting to impress is what keeps us moving when all we really want to do is curl up in a fetal position and whimper."
"Okay. Just be warned, if you feel the need to curl up on the path, Storm will think you're playing dead and maul you."
She chuckles. "I'd be okay with that."
He hands me the leash, and as he does, he squeezes my hand and says, "You know."
"Be careful?"
"Yeah."
I squeeze his hand in return and take the lead, and he heads into the forest. The trails are in better shape now. After a snowfall, Dalton has the militia ride over them with the snowmobiles. They aren't bare, but we don't need snowshoes.
Nicole stays quiet for about ten steps. Then she looks over her shoulder, in the direction Dalton went and says, "Where do you get a guy like that?"
"Cranky, sweary, and overprotective?"
"With the guys I've dated, those would be their good qualities. Which means obviously I need to change my criteria." Her cheeks flare. "And I can't believe I'm talking about that. As if, a few days after being rescued from one guy, I'm thinking of what kind of man I'll date next."
"You weren't dating him."
She laughs.
"Which means it's not the same thing at all," I say.
She wraps her arms around herself. "It isn't, but it's like I still feel, after that, men should be the absolute last things on my mind."
"Because that's what others will think?"
A pause. A long one. The she nods. "Like others will be judging me, and if I start checking out guys after my ordeal, maybe that means it wasn't so bad."
"Anyone who believes that is an idiot."
She smiles. "Thank you."
"You're separating the two just fine. Don't second-guess, especially not for others."
She glances over. "You sound as if ... I mean, I don't want to pry. You're a police officer, so you have experience in that way."
"I was attacked," I say. "Four guys. Serious beating. Rape? I don't know. Which sounds crazy, but I'd have been unconscious at the time, and I was in such bad shape that someone decided testing for it wasn't necessary."
"Do you wish they had?"
I walk in silence for a minute, and she starts to apologize for asking, but I say, "I think so. I know I probably was, so afterward I had issues--with men, with sex, separating that from my attack. Like you said, it wasn't so much a matter of me having difficulty separating them as feeling like I should have difficulty. But I never say I have been raped, because that feels like I'm appropriating an experience."
"I don't think there's a club. And if there is, I don't think there are levels of membership."
"True."
"You can't judge someone else's trauma, right? No one has the right to say you're a real victim or not."
"Survivor," I say. "Not victim."
"Right. I've heard that. Now the trick is to reach the point where I feel less like a victim and more like a survivor."
"You will."
We walk in silence. I'm never that open about my past, but I feel almost obligated with Nicole. On the job, I offered sympathy while maintaining professional distance. That's gone here. Or it is with Nicole, as if rescuing her gives me some responsibility for healing her.
"Can I hold that?" she says, gesturing at the leash.
I hesitate. Storm is darting from side to side, chasing whatever snow we kick up, constantly in motion, constantly tugging. Nicole is keeping up, but only because I'm taking it slow, and even then, her breathing says this leisurely hike is the equivalent of a 5K run.
"If it's too much, I'll give her back," she says. "I don't want you to lose her."
There's little danger of that. Even if Storm breaks free, she's still a puppy, with puppy-short legs and a puppy-short attention span. I'm more worried about what she'll do to Nicole.
Nicole has her hand out. "Please."
I hand the leash over. Storm promptly races behind us, twisting Nicole in the lead. I grab for it, but Nicole only laughs and untangles herself. She gives Storm a tug, and we continue on.
We're walking and talking, staying on the trail. I catch glimpses of Dalton--intentionally revealing himself to say I'm still here. Even when I don't see him, I feel him there, the sense that I can relax and get caught up in conversation with Nicole. Someone is watching out for me, and yes, I can do that myself, but it's nice to know I don't have to all the time.
I am on alert for one thing, though: Nicole's energy level. As it drops, I say, "I think we should turn back."
"Two more minutes," she says. "You can time me."
"I will." I waggle my wristwatch, and she gets a laugh from that. It's a nice sound to hear, a bubbly laugh, as if she's surprised that she can still do that, too.
I turn to motion to Dalton that we're getting ready to head back. He appears from behind a tree, meeting my gaze, his lips curving in a slight smile.
That momentary distraction is all it takes. Nicole yelps, and I wheel. She's only a few feet ahead, but it seems like twenty, and I'm running even before I realize what's happened. She's falling, and I think she's been shot or attacked and--
She lands flat on her ass in the snow, and she's laughing. I'm still in flight, and Storm is too, launching herself at Nicole. I let out a cry of my own, warning the puppy off her. Then I see a blur in the forest, leaping over brush. I get a split-second glance at the figure's face, and it looks like Dalton. And then I realize he's coming from the wrong direction. I pull my gun, and Nicole shrieks, her arms flying up to ward him off.
He skids into the path and stops short.
"Sheriff," Nicole says. "Sorry, I--" She stops as she sees it's not Dalton. Just someone who looks like him.
"Jacob," I say.
He glances at Nicole, then at Storm on her lap, the puppy's front legs planted on Nicole's shoulders as she licks the woman's face.
"I thought that was...," he says. "What is it?"
Nicole lets out a laugh, and Jacob's face turns bright red. "I thought--It looks like--"
"A bear cub?" Dalton says as he jogs over.
Jacob turns even redder. "No, course not."
"Totally does," Nicole says. "That's what I thought the
first time I saw her. But they tell me she's a puppy."
She reaches up for help, and Jacob is closest, but he just stares at her hand. Before I can step forward, he figures it out and tugs Nicole to her feet.
"Sorry," he says. "I thought..."
"I was being attacked by a bear, and you came to my rescue. Thank you. That's very sweet. And I was in danger of being mauled ... by an overexuberant dog." She hefts Storm and holds her out. "See? Puppy."
Jacob's expression says he's not entirely convinced, but when she staggers under Storm's weight, he grabs the puppy, who immediately transfers all affection to him, licking and whining and wriggling. I reach to take her, but he keeps holding her, both hands around her body, studying her, not unlike his brother with a new species.
"Eric got her for me," I say. "She's very friendly."
"Friendly? Or hungry?" he says as Storm licks his cheek.
That makes Nicole laugh, and Jacob's lips curve in a tiny smile. He puts Storm down and holds her leash, watching as she trundles off.
"It's cute," he says. "With those paws, it'll get big."
"Huge," I say. "She'll be my tracking dog and bodyguard."
"Good idea," he says to Dalton.
"Yeah, I get them every now and then," Dalton says. "What're you doing here?"
"I, uh, was..."
When Jacob trails off, I say, "Just passing by? You must have ESP. Eric and I needed to talk to you about..." Now I'm the one trailing off, not wanting to out Nicole in front of a stranger.
"Helping find the guy who kept me in a cave?" she says. "Yes, please. That would be even better than saving me from a giant puppy."
"You're the..." Jacob's mouth works, and I'm about to cut in when he says a sincere "I'm sorry." And then "We'll find him. But maybe you shouldn't be, uh, out here."
"In the very woods where my captor lives? Sheriff Dalton and Detective Butler were kind enough to accommodate my cabin fever. But we were just heading back."
"I'll take you," Dalton says. He turns to Jacob. "Casey needs to talk to you. I'll come back for her. If she tells you she's fine to walk back alone, don't let her."
"Why don't--" I begin, at the same time Jacob begins his protest.
"You guys are talking. Alone. Together. Awkward, I know. Deal with it."
THIRTY-ONE
Before they go, I lead Nicole away, and she says, "Sheriff Dalton has a brother who moved away from Rockton?"
"Something like that." This is the version Anders knows, an easy explanation for a complex situation.
"I won't mention him in town. Also--because you have to wonder--it's not him. My captor, that is. The guy was bigger. Stockier. Sturdier. And his eyes were darker. With the dim lighting, I couldn't say if they were dark blue or brown, but I know they're not as light as the sheriff's or his brother's."
"Thank you. That helps."
"May I introduce myself properly? Or would he rather not?"
I lead her back to where Dalton and Jacob are talking, and I say, "I forgot the introductions."
"And cavegirl isn't really how I'd like to be remembered." She extends a hand and says, "Nicole," and he shakes her hand and says, carefully, "Jacob."
"Pleased to meet you, Jacob. Now I'll say good-bye as Sheriff Dalton escorts me back to Rockton."
Jacob smiles. "Is that what you call him? Sheriff Dalton?"
"It seems safest."
That makes Jacob chuckle.
As Dalton and Nicole leave, I call, "Don't forget to bring Will."
Dalton glances back. "What?"
"We've agreed no one should be out here alone, so when you come back, bring Will. Please. You aren't the only one who worries."
After they're gone, Jacob says, "Thank you. For being with Eric."
I have to laugh. "That makes it sound like a chore."
"Or like I'm thanking you for taking care of a grizzly bear?"
"Yes, and not a bad analogy some days. But trust me, being with Eric isn't a hardship. He didn't exactly have trouble finding companionship before I came along."
"I've heard." His cheeks heat. "I mean, when he was younger. There were women. Not like you, just..."
I almost say for sex but remember who I'm speaking to and go with a vaguer, "lovers," and his cheeks turn still redder. I don't know how much experience Jacob has with women. I suspect the answer is none, which might also explain part of his discomfort with me.
He looks in the direction Dalton and Nicole left. "Is she okay? She seems like she is. Or like she's trying to be."
"Yes, she's trying very hard to be."
He shoves his hands in his pockets. "After that, it'd take a lot to be any kind of okay."
"It would. She's trying, though. It'll help when we find her captor ... who is apparently also a killer."
I tell him about the discovery of the two bodies. For a moment, he just looks at me, like he's sure he's misunderstood.
"That's what would have happened to her, then," he says quietly. "To Nicole."
He looks sick as I nod.
"Okay, well, I've been thinking about guys out here. That's why I was close to town, seeing if Eric would come out. I'm not saying any of these guys could have done this, but you need to start from somewhere."
He lists names. Fortunately, my jacket holds my notepad, which I always carry, like I used to carry a cell phone. I write down what Jacob tells me. I don't know anyone on his list, but he says his brother will.
We discuss what I have for a physical description, which weeds out six from his twenty. When I say the killer has been here more than five years, that eliminates two more.
"Do you have any gut feelings?" I say. "Anyone who rubs you the wrong way..."
"You mean someone I don't like?"
"Right."
"That list is all the guys who live anywhere near here. I only personally deal with a few." He names them, and I make notes. "I don't trust others. People out here ... A lot of them have problems. Like Brent. You know about Brent, right?"
Brent is our local cave dweller. "Eric says he's mildly bipolar, which--" I stop myself. "He has mood swings that suggest a mental illness."
"Yeah. That's called bipolar?" Jacob tilts his head, looking like Dalton when he processes new information. "Meaning he goes between opposite poles of moods. Yeah, that's Brent. It doesn't mean he's crazy, and I'd say he couldn't be your guy, but you have to consider him. I know that. You even have to consider me." His hands go back in his pockets. "And that's a stupid thing to say. Of course you need to consider me."
"Nicole cleared you. Your eyes are too light, and your build is too small."
"Build? You mean height?"
"Weight. Her captor was broader."
A thoughtful nod. "Okay, then you can strike off a few more names. Guys with light eyes or smaller than me. I'll leave the ones about my size, just so we don't overdo it."
Three more names leave the list.
"So there's no one in particular you'd suggest we focus on?" I say.
He hesitates, then says, "Ty Cypher and Silas Cox maybe. Cypher's from Rockton originally. Eric will remember him. He used to be sheriff. He stays pretty deep in the woods. Hates Rockton, so he steers clear. But he gets around. And he's nuts. Not like mentally ill. Nuts like one of these feral dogs."
"And Silas Cox?"
"He's from down south. I used to hunt with him after he arrived, maybe five years back. He seemed okay at first. Just a guy who wanted to live wild. Only one night, we were drinking--he got a bottle of rye from a miner who trades, in season. So we're drinking, and he started talking about ... women. Bad stuff that he..."
"Things he'd done to them? Things he wanted to do?"
"Things he wanted to do, I think. He brought it up like it was just regular conversation, something guys talk about, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't. I mean, the stuff he talked about..." Jacob's cheeks redden again. "It didn't seem like normal ... relations. He sounded like ... like a guy who might put a woman in a cave."
&
nbsp; "Fantasies about unwilling partners? Holding women against their will?"
Silence. Then he blurts, "Ropes. And stuff."
I say, as matter-of-factly as possible, "He talked about restraining women for sex. Was it mutual? Partners playing along for fun? Or actual restraint?"
The look on Jacob's face is sheer horror. "Playing along?"
"So, not mutual. He talked about restraining women against their will."
"Yes."
"Holding them hostage?"
"We ... didn't get that far. He started talking about women, ones he'd worked with down south, who wouldn't go out with him, and what he wanted to do to them, and I ... I honestly thought I was misunderstanding, on account of the rye. I'm not used to drinking. But misunderstanding or not, I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I got out of there fast and decided Silas wasn't the kind of person I should associate with."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"A couple of months ago. I was way over by the big lake, shooting duck. I'd been camping there a couple of days. He came by. Started asking questions about Rockton. I did my usual thing, played dumb, said I'd never seen a town, and he said Roger--" He pauses. "Wait, Roger. You should talk to Roger."
I scan my list. "A trapper, right? Lives here year-round."
"I told Eric he might make a good contact. He'd be someone to talk to about this. He knows both Cypher and Silas better than I do. Brent likes the caves, too. If anyone has seen someone in that system, it'd be him."
"Excellent," I say. "So I've got a list of ten settlers and hostiles--"
"Hostiles? No, that doesn't include hostiles. I don't have anything to do with them."
"Because they're hostile?"
I smile when I say it, but his gaze moves out into the forest.
"I just don't," he says. "No reason to."
"Okay, that's understandable. I'm trying to figure out more about them."
"You want to know about the hostiles. When that woman drugged me--how I acted, what I did? That's a hostile. Except they're like that all the time. Their minds don't work right. They're rabid animals. Like me when I--when I attacked you."
"Could they do something like this? Are they smart enough, sane enough to plan it? Take and hold someone captive?"
He rocks on his heels. I'm reminding him of what he did to me, and he's agitated, so I say, "It's okay. I can talk to Brent."
"No," he says. "They couldn't do this. It's not a hostile. Stay away from them."
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