Felicity.
“My grandfather was accused of sedition,” she says. “Inciting the residents of Rockton to rebel against the authority of those in charge.”
“Ah, sedition.” Émilie crosses the room and stands in front of Edwin. “Your chair, sir.”
His brows shoot up.
“Give me your chair. I’m tired of standing.”
He snorts. “We are of an age, Émilie. I am certainly not ceding the only chair to you.”
“Really? I am the weaker sex, am I not? That’s what you always told me. You were very clear about that.”
Felicity’s gaze swings on her grandfather, who deftly ducks it.
“My opinion has changed—” he begins.
“Has it? Truly? Then you will cede the chair out of deference to my authority.”
Edwin glowers at her. Then he slowly rises … and she takes the chair, shoves it behind the desk, and sits on the front.
“Gather ’round, children,” she says. “Let me tell you a story of sedition. Such a lovely word. Such a noble cause.” She turns to Felicity. “Did your grandfather tell you the nature of his rebellion?”
Felicity nods. “When residents founded the First Settlement, they wished to trade with Rockton. The town refused to allow it—they didn’t want anyone living in the forest. My grandfather arrived during the dispute. He saw the First Settlement’s point and attempted to help them. For that, he was exiled. The First Settlement took him in and made him their leader.”
Émilie’s lips twitch in a humorless smile. “Seems you left out a few details, old man. Or, should I say, a few bodies?”
“What?” I turn to Edwin.
Émilie continues. “Our lawyer friend here did not intervene in the dispute by arguing eloquently in favor of trade. You see, at that time, Rockton had a far more trusting nature. We kept our hunting rifles in a communal chest, for anyone who cared to hunt. Edwin emptied that chest and gave the guns to the settlers, who invaded Rockton, took the residents hostage, and made their demands. When Rockton’s leaders refused, they were both shot. Murdered.”
“What?” I say, wheeling on Edwin. “You killed—”
“Not me,” Edwin says. “You know that, Émilie. You were there. You and your husband. The three of us negotiated a peaceful settlement.”
“Negotiated? You have such a charming way with words.” She looks at us. “Edwin held a rifle to my husband’s head. I had a handgun that Robert bought me after the first death threat over our political views. Edwin didn’t expect that gun, and he sure as hell didn’t expect a woman to pull it on him. He laughed at me. I put a hole through the wall, singeing off a few of his hairs, and he decided perhaps we really should talk after all.”
“I was trying to talk all along, Émilie. No one was listening until I pointed a gun at your husband.” He glances at us. “The deaths were a mistake. My mistake, because I put guns in the hands of idiots. Yet Rockton refused to talk to us, and we grew desperate.”
His gaze shoots Dalton’s way, waiting for sarcasm. Dalton says nothing. He’s trying very hard not to look at me. Dalton knows exactly what’s going through my head. I want to sneer at Edwin, to give him the reaction he expects, but I cannot. Because once upon a time, I took a gun to persuade someone that I was serious, to force him to listen to me. And then, when he didn’t, I pulled the trigger, and I will never stop regretting that. Bringing that gun had been a stupid, immature move from a stupid, immature kid.
A kid who would have only been a few years younger than Edwin and Émilie at the time.
“Émilie?” I say, as evenly as I can. “How close is that to the truth?”
She doesn’t answer.
“If it was not the truth,” Edwin says, “would I still be here? Would they have settled for banishing me? Left me in charge of the First Settlement, where I could plan my next assault on Rockton?”
Émilie says nothing.
“We were not in charge here,” Edwin says. “Émilie, Robert, myself … Back then, we were considered children, errant youths who’d stumbled into trouble at home and now needed the protection of responsible adults. We chafed at that. We were idealists, and we thought we could do better. I attempted to do better by helping the settlers, which was something we all wanted.” A meaningful look at Émilie.
“Yes,” she says. “The three of us wanted that. However, only one of us put guns in the hands of people who didn’t want peace. They wanted Rockton.”
Edwin nods. “I underestimated their capacity for violence and overestimated their intelligence. The result was a tragedy. I do not deny that. No more than I deny the fairness of my sentence.” He looks at us. “Robert argued my case, despite…”
Another look at Émilie.
“You held my husband at gunpoint,” she says, each word coming slow, old fury igniting in her eyes. “I don’t care if you didn’t plan to pull that trigger. All I saw was a friend holding a gun on my husband, threatening to shoot if he didn’t get his way. I will never forget what that felt like. I will never forgive you for that moment.”
“I understand,” Edwin says. “I hope you and Robert had many years together—”
“Don’t.” She spits the word, glaring at him.
“Whatever you think I’m doing—”
“You’re subtly reminding me that Robert did not die, and that we went on to a happy and long life together. You’re suggesting that my reaction was merely a moment of panic. A moment that I have lived a thousand times in nightmare, and if you want to see that as feminine weakness—hysteria or the vapors, perhaps—then you do that, but do not patronize me.”
“All right. Then I apologize sincerely, Émilie, for the pain I caused you.”
Dalton glances at me. We’re both uncomfortable here. So is Phil. Felicity just looks confused. She’s watching her grandfather the way one might watch a loved one displaying characteristics that suggest a mental break … or alien possession. Edwin is apologizing. He is admitting to mistakes. For her, I suspect, this is a first, and it is unsettling.
Does Edwin even remember that Felicity is here? I don’t think so. Not Felicity, not Dalton, not Phil, and not me. Neither does Émilie. We are witness to a private conversation, and the only thing that kept me from slipping out earlier was the understanding that they need to have this talk, and even a subtle departure might disrupt that.
Also, I want to understand what happened here. What happened between them, and what Edwin did. Whether I can trust either of them. What sort of people they really are.
I have cleared a peephole into their psyches, and I see something far too uncomfortably close to a mirror, at least in their past selves. Idealistic, impulsive, reckless, overconfident, convinced that they’re doing the right thing … and making a horrible, tragic mess of it.
Edwin is right. If the past leaders considered him a serious threat, they’d never have allowed him to retreat into the forest. They set him up to be the leader there, because they trusted he’d learned a lesson and also that he hadn’t intended for his “revolution” to leave bodies in its wake.
“Is Émilie right?” I ask after a moment of awkward silence. “Did the settlers want to take over Rockton?”
Edwin sighs. Felicity pulls out the chair, and he sinks into it.
“That is the problem with supporting a group you are not part of,” Edwin says. “You aren’t privy to its secrets. When I arrived in Rockton, it was during a time of rising political idealism, especially among the young. I’m certain you can’t see it now, but I was right in there, supporting causes and championing the underdog. We wanted to save people, particularly those less fortunate than ourselves.”
Émilie makes a face. “Our hearts were in the right place, but there was a definite air of privilege. Taking it upon ourselves to save the downtrodden, whether they wanted our help or not.”
Edwin nods. “We wanted to help the settlers. Three of us, plus a couple of the other younger residents. We argued for open trade. That’s what
the settlers said they wanted: the ability to trade with Rockton. It seemed obvious to us that Rockton should allow it.”
“But Rockton’s leaders had a touch of savior complex themselves,” Émilie says. “Living in the forest was wrong, and if they could force the settlers back to Rockton by refusing trade, then that was for their own good.”
“The settlers disagreed,” I say. “And when they had the chance—and the guns—they decided trade wasn’t enough. They wanted the town. The infrastructure. The supplies. The plane.”
“Some of them did,” Edwin says. “Yet even those who supported the leader were appalled by the murders. They turned the perpetrators over as part of the negotiations. What happened to them after that…” He shrugs.
“They were sent home,” Émilie says firmly. “In later times, a harsher justice might have prevailed, but those in charge of Rockton back then were not killers.”
“Back then?” I say.
“Those in charge have never been sociopaths, Casey,” she says, meeting my gaze. “I think you and Eric know that, or you would never allow anyone to be sent south for their crimes. That would make you complicit in their deaths.”
Phil looks over sharply. “Did you honestly believe—?”
“They worried,” Émilie cuts in.
I turn to Edwin. “You said you came with information. To impart it, not to demand it, correct? You wanted to tell me something useful. Give it to me now. Then you will go home and wait while I solve this damned problem.”
TWENTY
“I think we both know Edwin is physically incapable of sharing his information and walking away,” Émilie says. “The man is not a giver. Unless you have guns. He’ll be quick to give those away.”
“That is beneath you, Émilie,” Edwin says, the formality returning to his voice.
“Nothing is beneath me. Especially when it’s true. That’s the deal then, Edwin. You tell Casey what you came to tell her, and then you leave and trust her to update you once the crime is solved.”
“Or?”
She looks him in the eye. “The terms of your banishment stated that if you ever set foot in Rockton, you would be shipped home. I suppose you thought no one was left to remember that.”
“Hostiles murdered a group of tourists,” he says. “That was vital information that Casey failed to impart.”
I turn to Felicity. “Is that true?”
Her look warns me against putting her on the spot, but I’m only making a point here, and Edwin gets it with the tightening of his lips.
I turn back to him. “Felicity was here when the woman found us. She knew what we suspected—that she’d been attacked by hostiles. Your granddaughter would not have failed to convey that to you. We presumed you’d take the threat seriously, though I’m not sure what difference it would make, since your settlement is already on high alert.”
I allow a two-second pause. Then I say, “There were three other deaths. Settlers. We discovered them yesterday and haven’t had a chance to alert you.”
“The hostiles murdered seven—”
“The settlers weren’t killed by hostiles. Someone just wanted it to look that way.”
Phil eases back, almost imperceptibly. He thinks I’m bluffing, and guilt prickles at that.
I watch Edwin for a flicker that says he knows I’m telling the truth … because he played a role in the deaths. I don’t see it, though. I do, however, notice Felicity’s gaze slide her grandfather’s way. She’s wondering whether he knew this. She’s wondering whether he’s involved. His own features, though, only gather in irritable confusion.
“Is this a joke, Casey?” he says.
I let my expression answer. He meets my gaze. Studies it. Narrows his eyes.
“Explain,” he says.
I arch my brows. I could remind him that I’m not his public servant, but I won’t be petty. My expression says enough.
“I’m not sure what you want me to explain,” I say. “We found three settlers. They appeared to be the victim of hostile attacks. The classic signs were there, with frenzied slashes plus evidence of blunt force trauma. But then April discovered a bullet lodged behind bone. We found evidence of other bullet wounds, with the projectiles either passing through or being removed. That remaining one, I believe, was missed. The stab wounds were then used to disguise the entry and exit paths. Decent work, and without that bullet, I’d have bought it. April would have figured it out, though, through internal tissue damage.”
Phil stares at me. He realizes now that I’m not making this up. That we once again excluded him from the “need to know” roster.
I’ll need to convince him it wasn’t a lack of trust but, rather, that we’d been too busy dealing with everything else and weren’t ready to inform the council. And, yes, perhaps that last bit is trust. We don’t trust him not to tell the council, but we also don’t wish to put him in that position.
“You think we did this thing,” Edwin says.
I shrug. “Makes sense. You have guns. You also have a reason to prove that the hostiles are a wildly escalating threat.”
“We are not killers,” he says, enunciating each word.
“Then someone from your settlement found these settlers, already dead, and you decided to make use of their bodies. Give meaning to senseless deaths. You’d use that to convince us—and through us, the council—that the hostiles must be stopped. Relocated or otherwise removed.”
Edwin watches me for a moment. Then he says, “Were you good at your job down south, Casey? Or did you achieve your position based on your sex and ethnicity? The elevation of an underwhelming officer to fulfill some bureaucratically determined quota?”
Dalton rocks forward, eyes flashing as his mouth opens. Before he can say anything, though, Felicity walks past him. Strides to the door. Opens it.
“Felic—” her grandfather begins. The shutting door cuts him short. She doesn’t stomp out and slam it. Just wordlessly leaves, letting the door close behind her.
“Nicely done, Edwin,” Émilie murmurs. “I see your attitudes haven’t changed, even with a granddaughter you are obviously grooming to succeed you. Didn’t have any grandsons, did you? Such a shame.”
“Casey is—” Dalton begins.
“Casey is well qualified for her position,” Phil cuts in, his voice cool and smooth, his gaze equally cool as it lands on me. He’s furious with my perceived betrayal but rising above it to defend me, which adds iodine to the sting. “Her performance ratings and clearance scores placed her in the top tenth percentile and—”
“And none of that matters,” I say. “Because Edwin isn’t really questioning my skill or my ability. He’s seen how effective I am. He’s just playing a very old and very tattered card. Do you think that’s a new one, Counselor? Insinuate that a woman got her job because of her sex? That a minority got it because they tick a box? I’m sure you heard that yourself, back in the day. Or is your memory really fading that fast?”
“I was simply—”
“Being an asshole. Being an asshole defense lawyer, to be precise. I laid out my case against you, and you deflected by pretending my theory only proves I’m clearly a lousy detective.”
“We neither killed nor mutilated these settlers,” he says. “I don’t see the point of such a sham. You already know the hostiles are dangerous. Even if we mutilated the corpses, would we not ensure you found them?”
“I believe we were supposed to find them. Eventually. Scavenging would only add to the damage, as it did with the tourists. The bodies would be left for a couple of days, and then we’d be alerted to their presence. However, before that could happen, they disappeared from the scene. Those responsible for the deaths pondered that, uncertain how to handle the unexpected twist. Then…”
I shrug. “Perhaps the person responsible decided that the best way to handle it was to come to Rockton himself. Come and tell me that a hunting party happened upon these poor murdered settlers and returned to tell him, but in the meantim
e, the bodies disappeared. So he proceeded to Rockton to inform me personally, despite his banishment, proving that the situation was indeed dire.”
Edwin’s face darkens for a split second before he leans back in his chair, hands folded on his lap. “That is quite a tortuous piece of speculation, Detective Butler. Reminds me of all the times I had to explain away a bit of irrefutable evidence against a client. Come up with a preposterous story and pray the jury was filled with gullible idiots. Apparently, now I’m the gullible idiot.”
“No,” Dalton says, “you’re the very old lawyer who’s forgotten how to ply his trade. Even I can see what you’re doing, Edwin. Discrediting the witness. Isn’t that what they call it? Don’t provide any proof that you didn’t do this. Just deny it and insult the detective and her theories.”
“What are you here for, Edwin?” I say. “I have work to do. You know what I found. You know you’re a suspect. Now please convey this critical information that brought you here, so you may return to your village and let me solve the six goddamn murders currently on my plate.”
Edwin straightens. “I came to inform you that there has been increased evidence of hostile activity. Another hunting party was confronted. Fortunately, the situation was resolved without bloodshed.”
Silence, broken when Dalton says, “What?”
“I said—”
“We all heard what you said,” Dalton says, “and we’re waiting for the punch line. Casey just suggested you came to tell us about the settlers, not knowing we’d found them. Now you’re revealing that your ‘critical information’ is bullshit. Either that’s your idea of a joke or you might as well put up your hands and say ‘you got me.’”
“I hardly consider an attack on my people ‘bullshit,’ Eric.”
“It sure as hell isn’t a reason for you to come all the way here personally.”
“Is that really all you have to tell me, Edwin?” I ask.
“I consider an unprovoked attack on my people an egregious—”
“I have no further questions for this witness.” I walk to the door, open it, and turn to Edwin. “You are free to go. You will be escorted from town. Please do not see this as a lifting of your banishment. You are not welcome back. Nor is your granddaughter until I have cleared your settlement in this matter. If you decide you have further information for me, you may send Felicity to the edge of our patrol area, where she will wait for a militia member to bring her message to me.”
A Stranger in Town Page 17
