Dalton growls. “Émilie. This really isn’t the time for puzzles.”
“I’m not trying to give you one. I’m still wrapping my head around what my investigator has told me, because apparently, it applies to both your dead miners—Max’s captor and this man you found buried.”
“They werebothconvicts?” I say. “Not on parole. Not escaped.”
“Yes. At the time of their deaths, both men were incarcerated.”
I rub my temples. “So the men who died here are not who they seemed to be? They somehow match the identities of men currently in prison? Or…” My head slowly rises. “Are you telling me that the mining operation is a prison camp?”
“Apparently, yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“That’s not possible,” I say after I take a moment to digest Émilie’s words. “No Canadian correction facility would be located— But it’snotCanadian. You said the tattoo was from an American prison.”
“Yes, though that’s not the same prison that sent the man here. He was released, reoffended and put into a privately run institution—also American.”
I shake my head. “I know the US has some private prisons, but they’re not running camps in the Yukon. That isn’t how the system works.”
“You mean that’s not how the system issupposedto work. I won’t pretend that I understand what’s going on here, Casey. My investigator hit a dead end very quickly, with signs that they should stop digging, for their own safety. No one is claiming that a gold-mining operation in Canada’s Yukon is alegitimateAmerican prison camp. But it also might explain how Mark and his wife’s deaths were so easily covered up.”
“In Canada?”
“Mark was from Vancouver, until he married an American. The accident occurred there.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Casey?” Émilie says gently. “You need to set aside the law-enforcement side of your brain that says this isn’t possible. Pretend it is possible.”
“I know.” I take a deep breath. “Imagine a scenario where American prisoners could, somehow, be brought to Canada to work on a mine. We know the operationisAmerican. That part fits. But why? What is the point? Cheap labor?”
“Maybe, if they found something valuable enough.”
“Bringing prisoners, across the border, into a prison camp… How much would that cost? How many palms would need to be greased? How can cheap labor possibly justify that?”
“Once they’re in Alaska, getting them here is easy enough. It’s a vast wilderness. No need to officially cross a border. With prisoners, the labor is practically free. And didn’t you say that your Mr. Rogers was very upset at the thought that a community of regular citizens lived nearby? He expected isolation. He warned you that some of their employees could be ‘rough men.’”
“If this is what the camp seems to be, then that’s what it is, and whatever questions I have remaining, I need to work through.”
“It might explain one thing,” Dalton says.
I glance over at him.
He shrugs. “Mark’s former friend comes sniffing around, maybe looking for answers to a death that doesn’t quite fit. What happens when he gets too close?”
“They kill him,” I murmur. “And then realize he wasn’t alone, and they have one more person to silence.”
We’re on our way to Lilith’s cabin. I’ve barely said a word, my brain spinning. Finally, I look over at Dalton.
“That explanation works for you?” I say. “A prison work camp?”
“I don’t know enough about gold and whatever else they might be looking for. I do know how much trouble everyone went through with Rockton, and those guys sure as hell would do all this, for the kind of money they pulled in. But that’s different.”
“They’ve gone through so much trouble. I can’t imagine it’d be worth it.” I keep walking. “I suppose hiring prisoners would help with the privacy aspect. Their employees aren’t in a position to ask too many questions, and definitely aren’t in a position to sell their secrets. But still…”
Dalton doesn’t answer. He only grunts, which tells me he agrees.
“If it’s not about gold, then what?” I say.
