“Unfortunately, you’re going to need to throw Jay to the wolves,” Petra says.
When we all look at her, she wipes a crumb from her mouth and says, “I should be careful. Up here, that could be taken literally. What I mean is that I know Casey’s first impulse will be to downplay his responsibility. The poor guy is in a coma. No one wants to suggest it’s his own damn fault but…” She looks at me. “It is.”
“I’m not convinced he was aware of the risks—”
Dalton cuts me off. “He was, Casey. I know that. Diana knows it. April knows it. He knew Sophie was an outsider. He knew
her companions had been killed. He knew her head injury and infection left her confused and periodically violent. What the hell was he thinking untying her?”
“He was being kind.”
“Yep, and it may have gotten him killed. Petra’s right. Blaming the poor bastard is shitty, but it’s not a lie. We’re telling the true story, one everyone involved can verify. Sophie seemed calm but was distraught over the restraints. Jay went to remove them. Diana told him not to, but before she could call you in, Sophie had Jay on the floor. In the ensuing struggle, he was strangled with the IV cord, and you and Will were forced to shoot Sophie to save him. He is currently in a coma. That’s the story for the town, too. The truth. If you want me to tell it, I will.”
I shake my head. “It should come from me—and Will if he wants. I just struggle with telling people that we let a brand-new resident become involved in a dangerous situation.”
“Because he offered. He offered because he had a unique skill you needed. It was not a dangerous situation until he removed the damned restraints.”
“I barely knew the guy. I don’t want to eulogize him. I just…” I glance at Dalton. “Does he have anyone at home? Family?” I pause. “Sorry. I shouldn’t ask that.”
Émilie shakes her head. “Under the circumstances, I think you should have that information, as we may have some difficult decisions to make. Phil and Eric already have it, and I can get it easily enough.”
Petra rises. “But I don’t need to hear it. I’ll take Storm for a walk.”
No one stops her from leaving. When it comes to resident background, nobody tries to overhear anything they shouldn’t. If they were the subject of the discussion, they’d want equal care to be taken.
Once Petra’s gone, Dalton looks to Phil, letting him take the lead. Also covering his ass against any charges that he shared privileged information. Phil takes it as a sign of trust, possibly even a ceding of authority, straightens, and pulls out his cell phone.
“You have a cell phone?” Émilie says.
“To be used as a secured PDA rather than a communication device. The council has allowed me the use of the generators to charge it in return for access to my files on request.” Phil taps icons. “Jay came to us as a professor of Nordic studies from a Canadian university. The name of the university is, I believe, unnecessary. His credentials were validated.”
“Nordic studies,” I murmur. “He claimed his mother was Danish, but I guess his specialty explains the real reason he knows the language.”
“Yes, he is fluent in several Nordic languages. He volunteered that information and offered any necessary translation services, though at the time, we assured him everyone admitted to Rockton spoke English.”
“I hate to say it, but that helps our case. The council knows he was willing to translate.”
“As for family, he has an ex-wife and no children. He did not list his ex as an emergency contact. His mother is deceased. His father is not in the picture.”
“Again, I hate to say this, too, but please tell me that means he’s essentially on his own.”
“He is. A lack of close family ties is not unusual for our residents, and Jay fit that pattern. There is no wife or long-term girlfriend or child or parent waiting for his return. If he must be moved to a hospital, though, he has sufficient funds to cover any care over and above his provincial health insurance.”
“Anyone else who might come looking for him? Something to explain that healthy bank account? I’m not asking why he came here, but if he cheated someone out of money…”
Phil shakes his head. “His bank account is healthy due to a tenured position and presumably frugal habits. He is here due to issues with a female student.”
“Ah.”
“He was briefly involved with a graduate student from a different department. When the relationship dissolved, she reported him. He claimed a consensual relationship and says she targeted him in retribution. Whatever the truth, the university granted him a two-year sabbatical, which he wished to take in Rockton to distance himself from the young woman. He paid the higher entrance fee required for nonvital cases, and so he was granted access as a low-risk, high-return resident.”
It’s good that he doesn’t have close family, in case he doesn’t survive his coma. It’s good that he has a nest egg, in case of long-term brain damage. It’s very good that he offered to act as a translator. Otherwise, Jay is exactly what he seemed—an ordinary man who otherwise would have passed through his two years without a ripple.
“That’s Jay,” I say. “Now, though, we have another problem.”
I tell them about the bullet.
SEVENTEEN