He scans the road, but it's past midnight midweek and bitter cold. The streets are empty.
"What's wrong, Sheriff?" she calls as we continue on. "Am I disappointing you by not committing a crime? You sure you don't want to strip-search me? I might be carrying something."
Dalton mutters deep under his breath about what she might be carrying and its level of communicability.
"Jen?" I call back. "Do you think we could get your help with something?"
"If you're looking for a threesome, I don't do that shit." She points at Dalton. "And I sure as hell don't do that shit."
"Val was apparently attacked tonight," I say. "Can you just...?" I motion for her to catch up as we walk. She hesitates, but when she sees Dalton is moving ahead, she joins me.
"Someone broke into Val's room," I say. "Obviously, the big concern is that it was Nicole's captor. I need to speak to Val. Eric and Will have to organize a search party. We need someone to guard the scene."
"You're asking me to guard a crime scene?"
"You did say you wanted to join the militia. Or was that just a way to get information on the case?"
She straightens. "I was serious."
"Good. Then guard the scene, please. If someone broke in, there will be footprints outside, but as soon as people hear a commotion, they'll come gawking and mess up the scene."
"Okay, but no one's going to listen to me."
"Make them. Please. If they argue, tell them Eric said that anyone who ignores you is going ice fishing. Let them interpret that however they want."
She snorts a chuckle, then says, "I want militia pay."
"If you keep everyone away, you'll get double. If anyone trespasses, consider it volunteer work."
*
Val is huddled on her couch, comforter wrapped around her. When I walk in, I say, "Would you like a tea?" and she shakes her head.
"It was him," she says. "Sheriff Dalton."
"Let's back up to what happened."
She looks up sharply. "You don't believe me."
"We'll get to that. First--"
She rises, comforter falling from one shoulder. "No, this first, Detective. I'm telling you that I saw a man in my room, and I can positively identify him, and you're ignoring that because he happens to be your lover."
"This just happened, correct?"
"Yes."
"Eric has been with me for over an hour."
"Sleeping with you. Or so you thought."
"It's barely midnight, Val. We were awake."
"You think you were. You don't want to believe he'd do this."
"No, I know I was awake, and I know he was there, because we were having sex."
She blanches, and her voice sharpens. "I did not need to hear that, Detective."
"Apparently, you did. You weren't listening to me otherwise. Eric got home almost two hours ago. We played with the puppy. Then sex. Then talking. He was there the whole time. It'd have been kind of hard not to notice. He has alibis before that, too. For the entire evening."
"He was quick with that, wasn't he? Giving you alibis."
"Because he's been accused of a very serious offense by someone who actively dislikes him. He's a little freaked out right now. If you think that I'm lying to give him an alibi, speak to Kenny, who came running in when Eric and I were in front of the fire, having a beer ... and not wearing clothing. That'd be a helluva trick if Eric had just left your house. This wasn't him, Val. Either you mistakenly thought it was, or you're trying to frame him."
"Frame him? Are you saying I made this up? There was a man in my room, Detective. In my bedroom."
"And the way you're wording that suggests you're no longer certain it was Eric."
She pulls the comforter up again and slides back down to the sofa.
"Walk me through it."
She does. She went to bed at ten and fell asleep quickly--"I haven't been sleeping well, and I had sleep aids from when Elizabeth was here." She dropped into a deep sleep, waking when she sensed someone in the room. She sat up to see a man whom she swears was Dalton, sitting in the chair by her bed, watching her sleep. When she screamed, he left.
"Left?" I say. "You mean he ran out of the room?"
"Ran, walked ... I don't know. I was getting out of bed as fast as I could, and when I was up, he was gone."
"Could you tell which way he went?"
She can't. It only takes a quick search for me to confirm there's no one still here.
"He left," she says when I return. "I was in a state of shock, and I did not pay attention to which exit he used. I hardly see how it matters."
"It would make it easier to track footprints," I say. "We'll check both doors. All the windows are winter sealed. What about your balcony?"
"That is also sealed. Permanently. I consider the balconies unsafe and have told the council so."
I get a full description of the man she saw. As soon as she claimed it was Dalton, I thought of the guy who could be mistaken for him: Jacob. I can't imagine why Jacob would do this, but I have to check. Yet Val is adamant that the man had short hair and a close-cropped beard.
She is adamant it was Dalton.
*
Jen does keep everyone away from the scene, but it's soon apparent I'm not going to find evidence there. There are few prints, and none match the snowsuit man's.
It's been over an hour, and I'm still painstakingly examining every footprint within a ten meter radius of Val's house. I'm on my second round and I'm crouching, my flashlight beam illuminating a set of prints, as Anders walks over.
"Anything?" he asks.
"Lots of prints, but none near the back door, and I can identify the ones at the front. Mine. Val's. Kenny's. Paul's. That's it. As for the person Paul thought he saw in the forest, he took me to the spot. There are fresh deer tracks. That's it."
"Yeah, we didn't find anything in the forest, either. So there's no proof anyone broke into her place. Yet she not only claims someone did, but that it was Eric--even when she knows he has a bulletproof alibi. That's just weird. If she's trying to frame him, at least wait until the actual middle of the might, when you'd be asleep."
"I think it's more likely a nightmare. She dreamed he was in her room and then woke up screaming and never realized it was only a dream." I straighten. "I don't know if that's plausible."
"Actually, it's totally plausible. I had about a year where I couldn't sleep without pills. If I actually managed drift off, I'd hallucinate something almost exactly like that. I'd see my buddies who got killed by the IED. Or the officer I killed afterward. They'd be standing by my bed."
I'm rubbing my hands against the cold. He plucks my gloves from my pocket and gives them to me without even pausing his story.
"Thing is," he continues. "It never felt like waking up from a nightmare. It felt like I hadn't fallen asleep and they really were in the room. I never believed in ghosts, but that seemed the only explanation. Turns out it's a type of hallucination that comes right when you've fallen asleep, when you're still conscious enough to think you're awake. Probably explains a lot of ghost stories."
"Maybe. She did take sleeping pills. But even if it was a nightmare, why Eric?"
He doesn't have an answer. But I'm going to get one.
FORTY-FOUR
Val is at her living room window when I come back. I climb the porch, and she's got the front door open.
"We need to talk--" I begin.
"Yes, we do." She brings me inside and closes the door. She's dressed now, as if she's given up all hope of sleeping. On the table, one of her notebooks is open. I glance at it and see not words but numbers. A page filled with algebraic equations.
"One of Hilbert's problems," she says.
"Ah," I say, as if I have any clue what that means.
She pushes the book aside and sits. "I do not know what happened tonight, Detective. There was a man in my room. I am certain of that."
Her tone is too firm, telling me she's actually not certain
, not anymore, but Val isn't the type to back down from an embarrassing mistake.
"I misidentified him as Sheriff Dalton," she says. "I withdraw that accusation. I understand that you might have reason to believe I intentionally misidentified him, but I assure you that is not the case."
"I don't think it was."
"Thank you." She folds her hands on her lap. "I would not do that. When I realized my obvious error, I sat here working on an algebraic problem, attempting to set my mind at ease, and I realized I should not set it at ease. That my uneasiness was my subconscious telling me I have been making a grave and unforgivable error. You have treated me fairly, Detective. You clearly do not agree with many of my choices and opinions, but you have been able to rise above that in a way I find admirable."
"Okay."
"And I have not been equally fair in return. I have been keeping something from you. A secret that I did not reveal because I feared--" She clears her throat. "I feared--and still do--that you will take his side in the matter, and perhaps even go to him with it, and that will place me in danger."
"By him, I'm guessing you mean Eric."
She tenses even at his name. "Yes."
"If he's done anything--"
"Nothing that can be proven. That is the problem. I have reason to believe he is at the root of a larger conspiracy. That his actions--or inactions--led to my attack and to the attacks on the others. He did not play any direct role in them, but he allowed them to happen."
"In what way?"
"I believe Sheriff Dalton permits and even encourages the hostiles to strike against our citizens as a method of control."
It takes me a moment to unpack that. Even then, I have to respond with care, my incredulity kept in check. "You've said before that you think Eric should take action against the hostiles. You think he's wrong to let people into the forest, and he should exterminate the hostiles for the safety of the town."
"If they were animals, we would do it."
"Putting aside that for a moment." Please. "It seems to me that you're accusing Eric of more than failing to take action."
"That is why I saw his face on my intruder. I have reason to believe he actively encourages the hostiles, through his interactions with the so-called settlers. A conspiracy to maintain order in Rockton in the most heinous manner, one that allows residents to suffer as a warning to others."
I don't respond. Can't for at least a minute. Then I find my voice with "You keep saying you 'have reason' to believe this. You have evidence."
"If anyone had evidence, Sheriff Dalton would no longer be in this town. What we have is conjecture."
"We?" My gaze moves to the radio receiver across the room. "The council suspects Eric of this? Phil is the one who told you to go on that patrol, Val. Eric warned you off and was overruled by the council."
"They were testing him. Phil explained the situation later, in expressing his horror and regret at the incident I suffered."
"So the council knows you were attacked?"
"Yes, as does Sheriff Dalton, who denied it happened. According to him, I didn't wish to admit I'd simply gotten lost, so I made up a story."
"Whoa. Hold on. You told Eric you'd been attacked?"
She smooths her blouse. "The council did. Initially, I decided to say nothing. Phil realized I was upset and persuaded me to tell the truth. He said he would handle it with the sheriff, to avoid any further embarrassment on my part. Given that I was recanting my earlier account, I could see how Sheriff Dalton might have been reluctant to believe the new version. That's when I got the entire story from Phil--the council's fears that the sheriff was more deeply involved. He counseled me not to discuss the matter with Sheriff Dalton for fear he'd realize the council was suspicious."
I get up and walk to the door. Val bleats something I don't hear. I throw it open and see Kenny on guard duty.
"Kenny? Can you find Eric for me? Tell him to bring the patrol logbook."
FORTY-FIVE
I'm watching at the window when Dalton appears, moving quickly, with none of his usual swagger and stride. He looks like a schoolboy who's been summoned to the principal's office and has no idea why, only knows he's in trouble.
I open the door and lean out to whisper, "It's fine. We're just going to straighten something out." He nods, but that look stays in his eyes.
Val waits in the living room. She sits ramrod straight, and when we enter, she fixes me with a look that says I am a grave disappointment. She doesn't argue, though. Hasn't said a word since I summoned Dalton.
As he walks in, he says, "I know you think I broke into your place, Val, but I didn't."
"She realizes she was mistaken," I say.
He nods, but his gaze shoots to her, apprehension lingering. I motion for him to sit. Then I say, "A few months ago, I mentioned that Val had been attacked in the forest. What did you say?"
His brows furrow.
I continue, "I said she'd been attacked, and you said..."
He takes a moment, as if struggling to shift mental gears. "I said I knew she'd gotten lost. I was there when they found her."
"But she didn't mention an attack."
"No."
"Phil had a private talk with you a few weeks later. About what happened to Val. Do you remember it?"
Another moment, as he thinks back. "Okay, yes. He told me not to make a big deal of it, that Val was embarrassed over getting lost and I was to drop the matter entirely. I said I never did make a big deal of it. Getting a scare like that is lesson enough."
I glance at Val. She's not leaping in to correct him, just sitting stiffly, chin raised, prepared for battle but waiting for the first volley.
"Did Phil tell you she'd been attacked?" I ask.
"What? Fuck--" He stops himself. "No. The first time I heard that was when you told me. Otherwise, I'd have needed details. Of the attackers, that is. So I could see if any of my contacts recognized them."
"And what would you have done if you'd found them, Sheriff?" Val asks.
"That's up to the council. Same as with any major crime."
"Before Val went on that patrol," I say, "you strongly advised against it."
"Hell--" He stops again. Restarts with a quiet "Yes."
"You have forbidden others to do the same. Including Will when he first arrived."
"Yes. I can bring in a half dozen guys who wanted to go out on patrol too soon. They'll confirm I told them the same thing."
"Exactly what did you warn them about?"
"What didn't I warn them about?" He looks at Val. "It was the same lecture you got. Everything from the threat of wildlife to the hazards to getting lost."
"Hostiles?" I ask.
"I warn about people in general. I don't talk about the hostiles specifically--I don't want to scare anyone like that. But I'm very clear that there are people out there and that encounters with them can be fatal."
I turn to Val. "Is that what he told you?"
She nods.
"With no particular emphasis on the people over other dangers?" I ask.
She nods.
"If Eric was using the hostiles to frighten people, don't you think he'd hammer on that point?"
"What?" Dalton says. "Using the hostiles?"
"The council believes you facilitate--possibly even orchestrate--hostile activity as a form of control over residents. Frightening locals so they don't wander or run off."
"What?"
"They believe you use your contacts to help you. That you..." I look at Val. "I'm not clear what exactly. Lure the hostiles close enough to town for sporadic attacks? Or have our excursions pass hostile areas in hopes of attack?"
"Both," she says.
Dalton stares like he's landed in an alternate reality. Or like we've all been smoking things we found in the forest.
"The patrol logbook, Eric," I say. "That's where patrols log signs of human activity so you can go out and evaluate, correct?"
"Yes, but if the council says that proves
I'm tracking hostiles--"
"Can you open the logbook and tell me the entries for the last week of October? Particularly the one about a campsite the patrol found."
He does. It's nothing unusual--the patrol found the remains of a campsite a few kilometers in, and Dalton investigated.
I take the logbook and read. "Appears to be settler, approx three days old, canceling lake trip."
I look at Val. "The lake had frozen, so we were taking a group for a twilight bonfire. A winter celebration party for those who win a spot by lottery. Eric had the militia scout the main path to the lake for the three days leading up to the party, to be sure it was clear. They found this on their first pass. Eric canceled the event." I look at him. "You concluded it was settlers, so why cancel?"
"I can't take the chance. Not with something like that--a nighttime event for citizens who don't spend a lot of time in the forest. What looks like settlers could be high-functioning hostiles, and just because the campsite was three days old didn't mean they weren't still in the region."
"Did you tell people that?"
"No. I said the ice wasn't thick enough, so I was postponing it for a week."
"Complete with a rant about how if you caught anyone sneaking down that way, they'd be on chopping duty all winter."
"A month. Never say all winter because I won't follow through." He pauses. "It wasn't really a rant either."
"Totally was." I sneak him a smile. Then I turn to Val and lift the logbook. "This is full of that. Patrols or other excursions see signs of human activity, and Eric goes out to evaluate, and if he concludes anyone was in that area, that region is on lockdown. He is meticulous. Even a little paranoid."
"I wouldn't say--" Dalton begins.
"Totally are. And I don't argue because as upset as people get over having an excursion canceled, it means attacks--like the one on Val--are extremely rare. Hostiles are like cougars--most residents pass their entire time here and never even catch a glimpse of one." I turn to Val. "But you had a full-blown encounter. After Eric tried to keep you out of the forest and the council encouraged you to go."
She says nothing.
"I don't understand," Dalton says. "I tried to stop you. They encouraged you. But I'm the one using hostiles?"
"It was a test," I say. "If you tried to keep the new council rep out of the forest, it proved you were responsible for hostile encounters."
His face screws up. "How?"
"Because you wouldn't want the new rep to be attacked. Except you keep all new residents out ... and can prove that. And there are extremely few hostile encounters ... and we can prove that. Oh, plus the small fact that Val actually was attacked."
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