He still looks confused but nods. “Sure.”
“There’s one other thing I need you to do. Find Phil. Take him aside and tell him I’ve arrested Petra for shooting Oliver Brady. Tell him that I want the council to know that immediately. If he makes excuses, come see me. The council must be notified. Okay?”
He nods again. I grab my cookies and head out to keep juggling.
TEN
It doesn’t take long for me to hear that Phil “needs to talk to me about Petra.” I ignore the summons. I have cast my die, and I will wait to see how it plays out.
It’s nearly 10 P.M. when I’m back in the station to grab my flashlight. I’m opening the drawer when the rear door creaks open. I riffle through the drawer, listening to the slow footfalls, and then I spin, gun raised … to find it trained on Dalton.
“Shit,” he says. “That was stupid of me. Sorry.”
I set the gun down, pat Storm, and then put my arms up for a hug from Dalton. He practically collapses against me and I say, “Long day?”
He chuckles and straightens, his hands looped around my waist. “Yeah. Fucking long day.”
Then, in answer to my unspoken question, he says, “Not a damned trace.”
I arch my brows.
He shrugs. “Okay, a few traces. But they didn’t lead anywhere. Even if he’s not a US marshal, he knows how to throw someone off his trail. He headed straight for rock. Waded through a couple of streams on the way. I kept thinking having Storm would help…”
“Not for sneaking up on him. And you’re going to need to sneak up.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll have to teach her stealth, too. Which won’t be easy with her size.”
He sighs. “I didn’t really think it through. Getting a Newfoundland.”
I put my arms around his neck again. “You got me my dream dog, Eric. I’m not trading her in for a bloodhound, so don’t even ask.”
He chuckles. “A bloodhound would be fucking useless in the winter anyway. As for Garcia, I give him three days before he comes knocking on our door again, wanting to cut a deal
.”
“I give him one night out there.” I move back to perch on the desk. “Speaking of nights, I hope you’re calling it one.”
“Yep, just picking up my bed buddy first.”
I glance down at Storm.
Dalton laughs. “No. She snores and drools and sheds. So do you, but not as much.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I just have a couple more things—”
“Nope.”
“I just need—”
“Nope. If you don’t stop working, I won’t either.”
“Damn.”
“Yep, that works better than ordering you to quit.” He’s about to say more when a noise from the cell room stops him. Before I can explain, he says, “Petra?”
“Uh … yes. How’d you know?”