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"I'm a good soldier, remember?"
Dalton ignores the sarcasm. We're right on the edge of the woods. He's still stopped. I start to speak, but an abrupt raised hand stops me.
"He's listening," Anders whispers. "The wind speaks to him."
The deputy gets a look for that. Then Dalton starts walking again and says, "Butler? Talk."
"Right. Okay, so you said Hastings took off into the woods, but I'm questioning the logic of that given what he saw on that autopsy table. Even if he doesn't realize it might have been cannibalism, the sight of someone presumably ripped apart by wild animals is not going to send him running into the woods, is it?"
"Your suggestion?"
"That he's still in town. He's a petty little man who is not above sending you on a wilderness goose chase at two a.m."
"Good," he grunts. Then he keeps walking into the forest.
"Good but wrong?" I say.
"Good call on character. Hastings is a weasel. Fifty percent chance he's done exactly what you said. Which is why I have the militia searching town."
"Oh. So you're a step ahead of me."
"I'd be a lousy sheriff otherwise."
"But you still think he could be in the woods. May I ask why?"
He motions for us to stay back while he hunkers down at the forest edge to examine something.
"Because the locals don't always believe us about the woods," Anders answers for him. "It's like saying the moat is filled with man-eating sharks and killer electric eels. Some think we're lying about the danger to keep them inside."
"But Hastings saw the corpse."
"And might be telling himself we did that to it."
"What? That you or Dalton butchered Powys post-mortem? Why?"
"To keep folks out of the woods. As a scare tactic, it'd be senselessly extreme and stupid, not to mention revolting and barbaric, but you heard Hastings--to h
im Eric is a savage with a badge."
Dalton's on the move again. We're following.
"I know there aren't any pets in town," I say. "But wouldn't it be good to have a dog for tracking?"
"Don't need it," Anders says. "We've got Eric."
Dalton shoots him the finger and keeps walking along the forest's edge. He stops abruptly and crouches again, and now I realize what he's doing--searching for signs of where someone might have entered the woods.
When I say as much, Anders nods. "There are only two maintained paths heading in, but there are smaller walking trails if you know where to find them. Running pell-mell into the forest is crazy. Following one of those maintained paths is also crazy, unless you're looking to get caught fast."
We look over to see that Dalton has disappeared.
Anders sighs and calls. "Yo, boss! We missed the non-existent signal. Follow or wait?"
No answer. Anders glances at me. "That means follow. You eventually learn to read the code. It'd be easier if we just equipped him with signal lights. Red for stop. Green for follow. Yellow for 'take a guess and get your head bitten off if you're wrong.' Except it'd probably be stuck on yellow most of the time."
"I heard that," Dalton calls back.
"Good. And yes, we're following."
