“They threw her to the wolves. She met a guy, and he must have convinced her to steal from them and then he double-crossed her.”
“Yes. She was painted as a lonely spinster, rather than a savvy business executive. When the police didn’t press charges, she became the lonely spinster who got catfished. She thought the trouble would end when the police cleared her name. It did not. She had still lost charitable donations, money that should have gone to helping the less fortunate, and so some people believed she deserved to be punished.”
“You saiddeaththreats?” I say.
“People thought she should be punished bydying?” Dalton says. “What the hell kind of bullshit is that?”
“The bullshit of very angry people who need something to be angry about. Most of them seemed like idle threats, but one person in particular became obsessive. When Muriel went looking for help, I found her.”
I consider this, and then say, “If she was followed here by her stalker, she’d speak up. She’s a former finance officer, not a seasoned spy who could murder two people and bury the bodies.”
“What about the guy who conned her?” Dalton says. “Any chance it was Blake?”
I describe the dead man to Émilie. Then I hold while she pulls up her information.
“No,” she says. “I have a photo here of him, and he’s standing beside Muriel. He’s maybe five foot six.”
“Okay, well, height’s one thing he couldn’t fake,” I say. “Her ex isn’t our dead guy, then. Blake and Gretchen could be working for him, though I’m not sure why he’d come after Muriel. He wasn’t caught, right? It’s not a matter of stopping her from testifying.”
“It’s not. He escaped justice, and I agree that there’s no valid reason for him to send anyone to find her. Now, if he came himself, begging forgiveness, and she killed him in a rage, I could understand that. However, all of these scenarios presume someone bypasses all our procedures and finds one of our residents. That only happened a couple of times in Rockton. Once decades ago, and once with that US marshal a few years back. Haven’s Rock is even more airtight. I’ll never say never, but I cannot imagine anyone following a resident there.”
“So we’re back to the spy theory. Any chance Muriel isn’t Muriel?”
A short, humorless laugh. “That hole has been plugged. I have the newspaper photos here, and you have her photo on file, which you confirmed was the woman who arrived.”
“Plus DNA,” Dalton murmurs.
“Yes. We now take DNA at the initial meeting and test it against the person who shows up. It was a match. You have the correct woman.”
I think it through, poking at possibilities. “Okay, one more. You said she went looking for help, right? If the Rocktoncouncil wanted to spy on us, could they find an actual potential case and set it up from that angle?”
Dalton nods. “Present us with a legitimate resident… whom they’ve bought as a spy.”
“Muriel certainly could use the money,” I say. “She lost everything.”
When Émilie doesn’t answer, I wince. “We’re getting paranoid, right? Why would the council even send a spy?”
“Oh, they’d send one. If they know you opened your own Rockton, they’d certainly try to infiltrate it. They started their own, in that lodge, and it is not going well, because it lacks key ingredients.”
“Eric,” I say.
He makes a face. “They need more than me.”
“Perhaps,” Émilie says. “But you’re the glue that holds the rest together. If they could convince you to join their new venture, you’d bring your wife, naturally. Will Anders would follow. So would April. A solid law-enforcement team plus a brilliant doctor would be the backbone they’re lacking to prop up a new Rockton.”
“They could infiltrate Haven’s Rock,” I say. “Monitor our progress. Either wait for us to fail or wait for us to get frustrated at being in charge. Could Muriel be that spy?”
“I don’t think so. When she reached out, she was looking for help, but not necessarily the kind that came with moving to the far north. She was far more interested in just starting over, finding an organization that would help her forge a new identity. She had reservations about Haven’s Rock—concerns that communal living wouldn’t suit her.”
“Like she said,” I murmur.
“Yes. Ultimately, she agreed to come, but I don’t get the sense she was looking for that. She requested the minimumone-year stay. A spy would need to be prepared for a longer term. Don’t discount it but…”
“The bigger factor is Blake’s death,” I say. “Is it possible Muriel is a spy? Yes. However, how likely is it that she’s a legitimate refugee who agrees to spy for money… and then murders someone sent to check in with her?”
“Anything like that in her background?” Dalton says. “I know we don’t let in people with records of violence but was there anything to suggest shecouldkill someone? Military service maybe?”
“No. She went straight from school to her job. She didn’t do any kind of military or quasi-military. If you check her form, she made it clear she didn’t want to hunt. She was mostly vegetarian, and that was another factor that had her hesitating.”
