“Whew. Okay, that’s so much better, because I know you aren’t a killer.” I pause. “No, wait…”
“Your sarcasm is charming, Casey. Has anyone told you that? You have quite a gift for it. In this case, I deserved it. I misspoke. Sociopathy does not mean a person will kill without cause, or poor Ronald would have been dead months ago. A self-aware sociopath is able to form relationships and understand that murdering people without just cause is wrong. Also inconvenient.” He purses his lips.
“Mostly inconvenient.”
“So Sebastian shows signs of sociopathy, and you didn’t think to notify me?”
“I would have, once I’d concluded my field study.”
“And told the council.”
“Yes, that is my role here, as you know. I am a mental-health spy for the council. I report on persons of concern. However, I would have told you first. At one time, I naively presumed they passed my concerns on to Eric.”
“They don’t.”
“I realize that now, and I feel foolish for my naiveté. While I have been here nearly five years, and I have the utmost respect for our sheriff, we have never been what one would call friends. I am, to him, a very foreign creature. One he cannot quite understand. He is the same to me. I find him fascinating, but his ethical rudder is as unfathomable to me as mine is to him. Which is the long way of saying that I never expected him to discuss residents with me—and I presumed that he did not know who made those reports—so I never questioned whether they were being passed on. In fact, while I hate to defend my naiveté, there were several cases where he kept a particularly careful eye on residents that I had identified as potential problems. Likely, I realize now, because he has his own sixth sense for that.”
“And Sebastian…?”
“I’m ninety percent convinced he’s a sociopath. I can give examples of his behavior that led me to this conclusion, but I would prefer you to interview him without that. Draw your own conclusions.” He tightens his grasp on Raoul. “Come see me afterward. Oh, would you possibly do me a favor?”
“Maybe.”
“Take Dalton to that interview. I would be interested in his conclusions as well. A test of his sixth sense.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
TWENTY-FOUR
I will get Dalton to help me interview Sebastian. That isn’t to satisfy Mathias’s curiosity. I’m not even completely sure what I’m looking for here. I know what sociopathy is, but it’s not an area I’ve studied in depth. Dalton knows more.
Finding someone in Rockton isn’t a matter of dialing a cell phone number. I know Dalton’s not “at work” in the station. I know he won’t be at home in midafternoon. Last I heard, he was going to talk to our neighbors. I’m heading to the bakery, where a couple of our neighbors work, when Sam catches up with me.
“Paul would like to talk to you,” he says.
I check my watch. “Where is he?”
“At the clinic. Your sister’s releasing him soon. She’d also like to speak to you.”
I sigh under my breath. I glance down the road, but there’s no sign of Dalton.
I swing into the clinic and collide with my sister, coming out backward. She jumps, her hands fluttering, and I realize she was backing out while pulling Kenny’s bed. With Kenny on it.
Before I can comment, she says, “Can’t you just walk, Casey?”
“Pretty sure that’s what I was doing,” I say.
“No, you were bouncing. As usual. Bounce, skip, sail … crashing into everything as you go.”
Kenny snickers. “Sorry, I’m trying to picture Casey bouncing.”
I look at him. “I was a very energetic kid. My sister has failed to realize I’m well past my bouncing and skipping stage in life.”
She gives me that frown, the one that says the words coming from my mouth don’t make sense. Not to her, anyway.
“Yes, I did kind of swing through the doorway,” I say. “And I did crash into you, April. Sorry. Do I dare ask what you’re doing with poor Kenny?”
“I said I’d love some fresh air,” Kenny says. “I didn’t mean I expected her to single-handedly wheel me out. I’ve objected. She told me to shut up.”