At that Dalton nods, his eyes glinting. He wondered why I’d let Edwin off so easily. Now he has his answer.
“I’ll stop by Petra’s,” Dalton says. “Kenny, you can grab Phil.”
They head off together down another path as Storm and I lead Felicity and Edwin into town.
* * *
One advantage to the rapid turnover in Rockton is that most people don’t notice when the status quo changes. If we started allowing more picnics and hikes, they’d presume there’d been a reason why we hadn’t during their first year. It also means we can walk into town with a stranger and people only glance over in curiosity. As the only witness to twenty years of town history, Dalton tells me he can count on one hand the number of times a stranger passed the town borders. It’s not exactly a regular stream now, but people do come, and the council isn’t saying much about it, so we see no reason to sneak Edwin in the back door.
People have seen Felicity before, and so they only glance over with nods, their gazes resting on Edwin, thinking perhaps that if not for his clothing, he would no more match their idea of a forest dweller than she does. He’s small but straight-backed and still strong, a gray-haired second-generation Chinese-Canadian who’d been a lawyer before coming to Rockton.
I don’t know Edwin’s exact history with the First Settlement. There are no records from that time—Rockton has always been cagey about its backstory. Edwin is cagier still—if I asked how he came to the First Settlement, he’d wonder what I hoped to gain from the information and, with the lack of records, how he could tailor his story to suit.
I know he’s been in the First Settlement since near its inception. I’ve heard a couple of variations on the story, the prevailing one being that he founded it, though Dalton’s grumbled that it seems more likely Edwin slid in and took over after the hard work was done.
With Émilie’s arrival, I have a way to get the truth. If Dalton is the witness to Rockton’s recent past, she is the archives. Of course, I could just ask her about Edwin. I have a feeling, though, that this will be much more interesting.
I take Edwin and Felicity to the police station and start coffee. As I make it, I tell him what happened to the tourists. I don’t see any point in dissembling. The information I wish to temporarily withhold is the death of the settlers. Obviously, I don’t care to give him more ammunition for his “riling up the hostiles” rhetoric, but more than that, well, someone staged their deaths to look like hostiles did it. That someone had a reason, and I suspect it was less about hiding murder than about laying a crime at the feet of the hostiles.
Look at these savages. They’re running wild, slaughtering hunters and tourists and settlers. Someone needs to do something about them.
Who’s bellowing that demand the loudest? The old man sitting in our police station. He has the most reason to stage a hostile attack. Stack a few more logs on the fire he’s already set blazing under our asses.
I hold out a cup of coffee. Edwin only looks at it disdainfully.
“I do not drink that,” he says.
Felicity reaches for the mug, but Edwin’s hand shoots out to block her reach. “Neither does she.”
She reaches past him and takes it.
“Do you prefer tea, Edwin?” I say. “I have a special blend here we got from the Second Settlement.”
His eyes narrow. “Is that your idea of a joke, Casey?”
I shrug. “I just thought you could use a cup. I hear it’s very relaxing.”
“Humor does not become you. For a woman, jests mean you will not be taken seriously.”
“Or it means I’ll be underestimated,” I say as I settle in with my coffee. “I can tell a few jokes if you like. Perhaps the one about the old lawyer who walks into an armed camp confident he has the upper hand.”
“You’re in far too fine a mood today,” Edwin grumbles. “That, too, is unbecoming. It tells others they can take advantage of you.”
“Nah, it just means that I am, at heart, a nasty bitch who takes far too much pleasure in the discomfort of those who’ve pissed her off.”
“If I seem uncomfortable to you, then I might suggest—”
The door swings open, and in walks Émilie. Her gaze goes first to Felicity, eyebrows knitting in only the briefest flash of confusion before she smiles and gives a queenly nod. Then she turns to Edwin. She stops, and I hold my breath.
“Sheriff Dalton?” Émilie says, her voice ice. “Please remove this man from Rockton. He is contravening the terms of his banishment.”
NINETEEN
“Banishment?” My brows shoot up in mock horror. “You never told us you were banished, Edwin. Well, this is awkward.”
His look warns that I have lost ground here. I meet it with a level stare that tells him he already lost that ground when he decided to treat us like incompetent children. I have a feeling that’s the way he’s accustomed to treating law enforcement. Some lawyers are. Some people are.
Yes, we’re public servants, but that doesn’t mean you can insult and pester us to the point of interfering with the job your taxes pay us to do. Also? Edwin isn’t paying taxes. We aren’t his law enforcement team to kick around.