“Agreed.”
“We want that done right away, because we know past situations have fostered an environment of mistrust, and we want to be totally aboveboard with this.”
“Uh-huh. Which is an excuse for contacting them quickly, when what you really want is…”
I smile at him. “You’re a quick study. We appreciate that. Yes, informing them of the baby is the excuse. What I really want is to tell them about the dead woman and see if there’s any chance they can identify her. She’s almost certainly a former Rockton resident. We can’t send them a photo, of course—not until we get to Dawson and have internet access—but we’ll give you a full description. If she’s in their files, we may be able to figure out which settlement she’s associated with. Or which settlement’s residents she might know from her time in Rockton. Impress on the council that identifying this woman could return the baby to her parents. Otherwise…” I shrug. “Maybe you’d like a tiny roomie?”
“No,” he says quickly. “Thank you for asking. I will write up a full description of this woman…”
I hand him my notes. He takes the page.
“If you learn anything, let us know,” I say. “Otherwise, we’ll be off for the First Settlement before dawn.”
&nb
sp; He grabs his jacket from a chair by the bed.
“It’s not that big a rush,” I say. “I think Isabel wanted to speak to you first. I’ll send her up.”
Dalton and I head downstairs, to where Isabel is at the bar, writing something.
“He’s all yours,” I say. “Better hurry, though. It’s almost five.”
She holds up what she’d been writing. It’s a sign.
The Roc will open at 6 PM today, so as not to interfere with the wassail party.
“You’re so considerate,” I say.
She hands me the sign. “Hang it, and lock the door, please.”
NINE
As much as we’d love to head out again, chasing answers, it’s already dark. The investigation will need to wait until morning. I stop by the wassail party long enough to announce that there is a baby in town. Residents will hear her, so they need to know she’s here and why. I say that I understand people may want to see her, but she’s very young and we don’t know the full state of her health and immune system and must restrict contact to caregivers only.
After that, Dalton and I pick up Storm and then have an early dinner, while taking the baby for a couple of hours to give Jen time to eat. Overnight, she’ll stay with Jen.
Because the Roc opened late, Isabel extends the pre-brothel hours, and at nine, we’re there with Anders and April, with Storm gnawing a bone under the table. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow will be another long one. We can afford an hour off to enjoy a mug of mulled alcoholic beverage and kettle corn, the festive snack of the evening.
By the time Dalton is two-thirds done with his cider, I’m on his lap. I did not put myself there. I’m not quite sure how I arrived there, either, which may suggest I’ve imbibed more alcohol than I intended.
Isabel stops by to refill the popcorn bowl and smirks at us, Dalton with his arms tight around me, his head on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck. If he’s doing that in public …
“Exactly how much rum is in this cider?” I ask.
“In general?” Anders says. “Or in ours?” He lifts his mug. “I do believe Iz was feeling generous tonight.”
“It does seem…” April stares into her barely touched drink. “Strong.”
“I owe you for earlier,” Isabel says to me. She waves at Dalton. “Enjoy.”
“This isn’t a gift,” I say as I firmly move Dalton’s hands to my waist. “It’s payback.”
“We don’t ever get to see our sheriff drunk,” Isabel says as she refills his mug before I can stop her. “It’s adorable.”
“It kinda is,” Anders says as she leaves. “However…” He looks around the Roc, at residents watching their hard-ass sheriff nuzzling his girlfriend.
“Not a good look?” I say.