“Which we then mistook for hostiles.”
I nod. “We can tell the bodies were slashed with a knife, but to the average person, with no forensic knowledge?” I shrug. “Knives and claws both tear.”
“That would make this an unrelated crime. It’s equally likely that someone found bodies, had a brilliant idea, and then realized it was stupid. Two potential theories.”
“Yes. I’m just kicking myself for not realizing the second one.”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours since April discovered that bullet. It’s not like we’ve executed a suspect.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “You aren’t down south anymore, Casey. None of your colleagues are going to question your handling of the case, and there’s no jury of public opinion to pillory you with ridiculous expectations.” He pauses. “Except Edwin, but he doesn’t count.”
He’s right. Down south, I learned to fall on my sword before anyone pushed me onto it. Make a mistake, however small? Be the first to mention it or else someone will use it as proof I didn’t deserve my position, like Edwin did. As Dalton has pointed out, such defensive tactics can backfire. Be too quick to say “mea culpa,” and no one misses any mistake, making it seem as if you screw up more often than others.
“Let’s work on this,” he says. “In the future, the correct response is not ‘Oh my God, I screwed up so badly,’ but ‘Hey, Eric, I’ve considered another possibility.’ Save the blame-taking for when I screw up. Then you can have it all.”
“Thank you.” I sip my beer. “What Émilie said about the First Settlement revolt, had you heard anything like that?”
“The version I got was that there’d been some trade trouble shortly after the First Settlement separated, and that’s why we avoided contact. The fact that guns were involved? Two residents killed? Edwin being the asshole who gave them the guns? No, somehow that didn’t get passed along.”
Which is the problem with an oral history in a transient population. If the council wanted to hide the specifics, they only needed to wait ten years or so for the story to fade into half-formed rumor.
“Do we stop dealing with Edwin?” I ask.
“Nah. The council has let him stay in the area. It’s been almost fifty years, and he’s never posed a threat. Hasn’t let his people pose one either. Right now, he’s a nuisance. I won’t put up with that shit. If he searches his settlement for potential perpetrators—and brings any back to us—then we can talk. If he protects them? Whole other situation.”
We drink in silence. Then he says, “Good call, by the way. Putting Edwin and Émilie together.”
I laugh, sputtering a mouthful of beer. “I did not foresee that, let me tell you. I figured they’re roughly of an age, and both mentioned they weren’t Rockton founders but came shortly after. So I thought there was a reasonable chance they knew each other—and with two strong personalities, that they had probably clashed.”
“Oh, they clashed all right. You expected sparks and got fireworks.”
“Yeah, somehow my mental scenarios did not include ‘Edwin and Émilie were friends and idealistic collaborators until Edwin held Émilie’s husband at gunpoint.’” I shake my head. “I always suspected relations with the First Settlement were volatile, but I had no idea. At least they don’t seem to have had trouble with the other settlement.”
“Different time, different reason for leaving. The Second Settlement just wanted to get back to nature. Hippies.”
“And the tea helped, I’m sure,” I say with a chuckle.
“Yeah. The tea definitely would have helped.”
I stop with my bottle halfway to my lips. Then I push to my feet, startling Storm.
“Lightbulb just flashed, didn’t it?” Dalton says.
I set my beer on the railing and head into the station. On the desk is the sample of tea I’d needled Edwin about earlier. We’d gotten it from the Second Settlement, along with the recipe, which we’d re-created and compared to an analysis of the sample to prove it was the same.
The Second Settlement arose during the late hippie era, when a group of Rockton residents decided they wanted to renew their bond with nature. That sounds very New Age—and naive—but they’d had experts in their group, and they’d been a lot like the quartet Maryanne had headed out with. The difference was that there hadn’t been any hostiles to contend with … probably because, if my theory is right, they accidentally spawned the hostiles themselves. Yes, I’m well aware of the irony there—the most peaceful settlement gave birth to the most dangerous people in the forest.
It was the Second Settlement that discovered the tea. I don’t know how. They’d been vague on that. I presumed a botanist in their midst. The percentage of people in Rockton with degrees and advanced degrees far exceeds the general population. Dalton used to joke about that with the nonvictim residents—you’d think being so educated, they’d be less likely to get caught if they commit crimes. After I arrived, he realized it applied to me and stopped joking.
The truth is that the higher your education, the more likely you are to have the networks and the means to get to Rockton. Less likely to have dependents. More likely to have cash flow. Also, let’s be bluntly honest, more likely to have your application accepted. It’s easier to take a former dentist and assign him shop-clerk duty than to take someone in retail and occasionally ask him to perform dental surgery.
So my presumption is that among those early Second Settlement residents was a botanist or a pharmacist or a scientist with an interest in “pharmaceutical recreation.” That’s what’s in this jar on my desk. A natural intoxicant, mixed with dried berries and rose hips. As for what provides the intoxicating effect, I have that information under lock and key, literally. We don’t need residents coming across it and searching the woods for a natural high, especially when they’re more likely to end up brewing a lovely tea of deadly water hemlock. Even knowing the ingredients, it’s the proportions that matter. Whoever created this tea knew what they were doing.
A Second Settlement resident concocts a tea that provides a mild narcotic effect, similar to marijuana. It calms nerves and, well, makes for very happy and peaceful settlers, the stereotype of the hippie with a joint in their mouth. It’s enjoyed the same way we enjoy our beer—at the end of a long day, a much-needed break in the daily grind of survival. A treat, not a staple.
I have a second jar of tea, too. It’s used for rituals, and it produces an added state of mild hallucinations. The Second Settlement reveres nature, and they hold rituals where they imbibe this tea to connect with the elemental spirits. I make no judgment call on that. It is their faith, and like most faiths, it both enhances their lives and, occasionally, impedes them.
Two teas. Two purposes. Both as tightly regulated as our liquor. I’ve seen nothing in the Second Settlement that would lead me to argue against either version. I believe what happened with the hostiles is an unintended consequence, impossible to foresee.
I know from Maryanne that the hostiles also drink two forms of narcotic. The first produces results similar to what the Second Settlement calls their peace tea. The second brew is much more dangerous, heightening awareness and aggression and lowering inhibitions while causing a hallucinatory state similar to LSD.