“Just one. He was standing over here.”
I position myself in Brady’s place and then turn to see the trajectory of the bullet. It’s possible that it passed through Brady. I wasn’t paying enough attention to that—I only know that he died. Anders and I both search for the bullet. Then we go to where I saw Petra, and we hunt for the cartridge. We search for at least an hour. As the sun drops, we shine our flashlights on the ground, in hopes the beams will bounce off the metal cartridge.
“It’s not here,” Anders says. “Which really suggests it’s Petra.”
“Or that she grabbed it before she went.” I sigh and ease back on my haunches. I’m tired, though, and when I shift my weight, I topple onto my ass.
“A fine idea,” Anders says, plunking down beside me. He lies down, arms braced behind him, and says, “Does it even matter?”
“Does what matter?”
“Any of this. Petra shot a serial killer. Someone shot a guy threatening to expose Rockton. Do we actually care?”
I look over at him. “Do we care whether our resident comic-book artist is a highly trained assassin? Do we care whether someone may have murdered a law enforcement official who came to enforce a federal warrant?”
Anders sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m tired and cranky. Sometimes it just feels like we’re killing ourselves trying to solve crimes no one cares about. No one except us. Fighting the council. Fighting the people we’re trying to protect. Everyone watching, everyone judging, no one giving a shit how much we put into this, how much we risk for it.”
“Like being back in the army.”
He barks a laugh. “Actually, yes.”
“It’s like policing down south, too. The difference is that there, we hear only the criticisms. We have to trust that the silent majority appreciates what we do—the risks we take, the constraints we work under. Up here, I actually see that. I hear that. I feel appreciated. It just gets hard to remember that when I’m running on two hours’ sleep while watching other residents toddle off to bed at ten P.M.”
“No shit, huh.” He stretches out on his back. “We could stay here. Pretend we’re searching all night. Super, super busy, doing super, super important police work.”
“Do you think Eric won’t notice?”
“He’s probably already on his way, making sure we haven’t been devoured by cave bears.”
“Those damned cave bears. They’re everywhere.”
He flashes a smile my way at the old joke. “Fortunately Eric will always protect us. He’ll be here any moment, and then you’ll have to sweet-talk him into staying with us. Sleeping under the stars.” He squints up at the thick tree cover. “There are stars, right?”
“There will be, once it’s dark.”
“Perfect.” He rolls his head to the side to look at me. “And do not tell me that we can’t have the entire police force spend the night in the forest, how it’s irresponsible and shit like that.”
“I wasn’t going to say a thing.”
He sighs and pushes himself up, sitting again. “I suppose we should go.”
“Never said it.”
“Yeah, but I still hear it.” He starts to rise and then pauses. “Speak of the devil.”
“Hmm?”
He nods, and I catch a glimpse of a dark shape. He opens his mouth with, “Hey, we—”
I cut him off by gripping his arm. He looks over at me. I shake my head. He frowns. I shake it again, and he peers at the figure long enough to realize it is not Dalton.
I release his arm, and his hand goes for his gun. I’m already gripping mine.
Again, Anders and I communicate through seamless gestures and expressions. A frown. A jerked chin. A gaze cutting left. A nod. It’s not even so much an attempt to be silent as it is almost second nature, an effortless telepathy, our minds working so in sync that we don’t need to whisper a plan. It’s my plan, but he does consider a moment before nodding, assessing and agreeing rather than simply following the chain of command.
Anders stays where he is, still crouched, moving to one knee as he watches that still figure.
It’s nowhere near dark yet, but the sun has begun its descent, long shadows stretching through the forest. The figure is nestled in one of those, making it little more than a featureless blob. I can tell it’s human. I can also tell it isn’t tall enough to be Dalton.