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"No, not him. At least, he hadn't gotten to it yet. I know you're still mad at me, Casey..."
"I'm not mad. Just very busy."
"Will you help me with this? Please?"
I tell her I will.
"Spelunking," Dalton says, leaning over my desk.
"It's an awesome word," I say.
"It is. And we're doing it tomorrow."
"We are?"
He heads for the back door. I've learned this isn't his way of avoiding a conversation--it's him moving it to another location.
He takes his seat. I take mine, perched on the railing as we watch a raven hop along the forest's edge.
"You gotta stop feeding her," he says.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He snorts. After a minute, the raven hops up the steps and onto the railing beside me. She waits. I count off thirty seconds. Then I take a bread crust from my pocket. She waits until I hold it out, gingerly snags it from my hand, and flies off.
Dalton sighs. Deeply.
"It's your fault," I say. "You gave me the book that says ravens are smart. I'm testing that."
Another sigh.
"I am. She's learned to recognize me and know that she will get exactly one crust per day. It's a treat. Not a meal." I glance over at him, going serious. "If you really want me to stop, I will."
"Nah. Have your fun. But if I catch you giving her a name..."
"I won't. She's a wild animal. Not a pet."
He nods, satisfie
d that his student has learned her lessons well.
"What was this about us going caving?" I ask.
"A few of us are heading out tomorrow. You've been working the case non-stop. A break will freshen your brain."
I say yes quickly. Another lesson assimilated. If I want something, admit it. None of this pissing around pretending I don't really care one way or the other. He wants me to care--one way or the other.
THIRTY-SEVEN
It's spelunking day. We're closing up the station at noon. Kenny and a couple of the militia guys will be in charge. I joke that we should make Val man the station, and we spend the morning trading quips about that. Or Anders and I do. Dalton just rolls his eyes and mutters.
I've given up on Val. She reminds me of a principal I had in elementary school. We swore she was a vampire who could only arrive before dawn and leave after dark, which explained why no one caught more than fleeting glimpses of her. We're sure Val is reporting on us via her satellite phone, but she comes out so rarely that we never have to worry about watching over our shoulder.
Val's only defender is Beth. "She's a deeply unhappy woman," she'll say.
"Then she should get off her ass, do some work, and be less unhappy," Dalton replies.
"That's not the solution for everyone, Eric. I think there's a story there."
