Dalton and Petra exchange a look. Petra isn’t being hospitable; she wants Felicity under watch. When Dalton’s gaze slips my way, I hesitate. Petra is the council’s tool. She has killed for them. She has also vowed that her loyalties lie with Rockton itself over the council and even her grandmother.
At what point is a lack of trust simply caution? And at what point does it tip into pride?
You hurt me. I feel betrayed. I understand that it wasn’t about me, but I want to stand my ground. Keep that door shut so you can’t hurt me again.
That’s what I feel, and it is exactly what I suspect Felicity does, with Sidra.
“I’ll go with you tomorrow, too,” Petra says when I finally agree.
“We shouldn’t take the baby,” Felicity says. “So we won’t need you to look after her.”
Petra looks at Felicity and bursts out laughing. “Yeah, kid, I’m offering to go along as the babysitter. You just keep thinking that.” She turns to me. “I’m guessing you’ll take Abby tonight and—”
“Her name is Abby?” Felicity says. “How do you know that?” Her expression says she’s guessed the answer, and she’d better be wrong.
“We don’t know what Sidra and Baptiste named her,” I say. “But we needed something to call her. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Felicity’s gaze moves to the painted cradle and the toys. Then she looks back at me.
“Yes,” I say, “we have too much free time here. People wanted to do something for Ab—the baby. Sidra will be welcome to take anything they’ve made. Now, I think we should—”
“I’d like to go along tomorrow,” Petra repeats, as if I’ve forgotten the request. Technically, she should ask Dalton, but her gaze is on me.
When I don’t answer, she says, “Will has to stay in town. Tyrone is still here, but you’d need to pry him away from Jen. Also, with you both being gone for a few days, it’s been easier on Will having Tyrone around playing backup deputy.”
“We’ve already found Ellen’s killer,” I say. “This is a simple tracking mission. I’m not even sure both Eric and I need to go.”
Dalton’s grunt tells me I am mistaken in this.
“I have tomorrow off,” Petra says. “And I’m requesting permission to accompany you. Who knows, maybe you’ll find another baby along the way and need someone to look after it.” She shoots an amused glance at Felicity.
She’s really saying that she doesn’t trust this girl. Doesn’t trust we aren’t being led into a trap. If I refuse the request, I’m being stubborn … and maybe a little petty.
“All right,” I say.
“Good,” Dalton says. “Now, Felicity, I’m guessing no one has given you a tour of the town?”
“No, but I don’t need—”
“We insist. It’s only polite. Get your stuff on, and we’ll show you around.”
* * *
Dalton doesn’t insist on the tour to be hospitable. It’s a message, one Felicity can take home to the First Settlement, like when I told her how we store our guns and how tightly they’re controlled. He also shows her that, as part of the “tour.”
We have guns. More than you do. And they’re locked up so tight even our residents can’t get at them, so don’t even think about stealing any
.
We introduce her to the militia and explain the twenty-four-hour armed-guard patrols. We show her the storehouses, windowless and well secured. Of course Felicity realizes what’s happening. But we don’t need to point out the security features—she’s already looking and calculating.
At first, I’m surprised she initially declined the tour. She’s Edwin’s granddaughter, and this is a rare opportunity to assess our wealth and defenses. She must be curious, too. That, I realize, is where I’m mistaken. Yes, she’s curious, but she’s also wary, and this is why she didn’t want to come inside—because she didn’t want to see more.
I had a friend in elementary school who was from a less affluent part of the city. I know that private and charter schools are popular in the States, speaking to the quality of the public school system in some areas. In Canada, private schools are for the rich. My parents used to say they were for parental bragging rights. That’s not entirely true, but our public school system is good enough that parents like mine rightly declared a private education unnecessary. But there are still differences between schools themselves, and this girl’s parents drove her to ours.
We became friends, and one day, I got permission to bring her home. I’d been so excited to show her my house, with my big bedroom and private bath and huge yard. That wasn’t showing off—I was too young to understand such a thing. I just wanted her to see my domain, the places that were uniquely mine.
When I invited her back, she refused, and an invitation to her home never came. It’s only now, as an adult, that I understand. My house was a glimpse into a world of privilege. A world where you don’t share your bedroom with two sisters and your bathroom with your entire family. Where you don’t bother with the neighborhood playground because your yard is bigger. Where you can open the fridge and eat whatever you want because it’ll be replaced as soon as it’s gone.