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"And I think you just want there to be one, to give her an excuse."
Anyway, that's Val. Dalton did tell her we were going caving. She didn't care.
The idea of taking off for the afternoon seems very carefree and spontaneous. Like skipping school on the first gorgeous day of spring. Except I never actually did that, and I suspect if Dalton had lived down south, he wouldn't have, either. So while we have every intention of cutting out at noon, the reality is a little different.
At ten, we get a call--which in Rockton means someone comes running through the station's front door. There was a break-in at the greenhouse last night. All three of us go to investigate. It seems like a simple case of someone deciding, presumably drunk or high, that he really needed a tomato. Or an entire vine of tomatoes. One is stripped clean, with a tomato crushed underfoot as the thief made his escape.
Yes, it's almost laughable. The Case of the Trampled Tomatoes. In Rockton, though, resource theft is a serious offence. It has to be.
We could abandon the investigation at noon. But it would send the wrong message to would-be thieves. Dalton sends Anders off to guide the others and says we'll catch up.
At twelve-thirty, we find the thief. It takes actual detective work--interviewing two witnesses, examining footprints left at the scene, and then banging on the door of the suspect, who is sound asleep, with squashed tomato on her shoe and three ripe ones on her counter.
Jen protests her innocence. She accuses me of having a vendetta against her. She attempts to hit me. I put her down. Dalton is amused. He even smiles. Then he lets me escort her, arm wrenched behind her back, to the cell, where she'll spend the afternoon, namely because we really do want to get off on our trip and this is the easiest way to contain the howling woman.
I'm finishing a brief report on the incident when Diana swings into the station with a wide grin. For a second, I forget anything's happened between us.
"Hey," she says. "I heard you had some excitement this morning, and I'm betting you haven't eaten lunch."
"I--"
"So I'm taking you out. No tomatoes. I promise."
"Today's--"
"Your lucky day, my friend. Having solved the great tomato caper, even your asshole of a boss can't deny you an afternoon off." The door opens as my asshole boss steps in and stands behind Diana. I try to cut her short, but she's going full steam. "I have also wrangled an afternoon off, which means we are doing lunch and then going rafting. It's gotten too cold for pond dips, but it's still fine for raft lounging."
"She has plans," Dalton says.
Diana turns. "Work, you mean. I think Casey--"
"--has earned the afternoon off. Which she is getting. We're going caving today. You know that because I heard Petra telling you."
"I thought that was cancelled due to tomato theft."
"Nope. Casey? Got your things?"
"Casey?" Diana says. "When did you pull the stick out of your ass and start calling her by name?"
"Diana," I say, sharply enough that I expect her to react. Maybe even apologize. She doesn't, and when Dalton motions for me to get ready, she says, "Yes, Casey. Hop to it. God forbid you keep the man waiting."
She's been drinking. That must be it. But I don't smell alcohol and she's standing upright, no wobbles.
I open my mouth to ask her to leave, but she grabs my arm. "Come rafting with me, Case. You know you want to."
"No," Dalton says. "You want her to. Casey has been busy and you don't like that. She's also been hanging out with Petra, and you don't like that, either. So you're..." He trails off, frowns at her, and says, "Look up."
"What?"
He motions for her to tilt her head up. He's not reaching out to touch her, but she bats his hand away as if he is. That's when I notice her pupils are constricted, despite the dim light.
"What'd you take?" Dalton asks.
"Take?"
"Any medications?"
"Aspirin for a headache. Is that a crime, sheriff? Want to lock me up with Jen? Maybe you want to watch the cat fight, too."
