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“How long will she need?”
“It’s April. She’ll already have a bag packed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The clinic has its first critical-care patient, and my sister is furious about that. Furious, I think, that she needs to travel for hours to get to him—precious hours that could mean the difference between life and death. She doesn’t say that. She upbraids me for getting our new town off to such an ominous start. Missing people, dead strangers, and critically injured residents. Did I not learn my lesson the last time?
I used to think my sister was cold, even unfeeling. Now I’ve begun to realize the opposite is true. She feels things—feels them deeply—and doesn’t quite have the tools to handle those emotions, and so she says things that she doesn’t realize will hurt others, especially me. I’m already smarting from Yolanda’s outburst. I don’t need April’s, which feels uncomfortably close to the same thing. Uncomfortably close to a truth I fear? That we are indeed idealistic idiots of the most dangerous kind—those who don’t realize they’re chasing an impossible dream and drag others into it, and end up doing more harm than good.
I don’t believe that. I can’t. We aren’t leading a bunch of gullible dreamers into a promised land. Everyone on our teamis smart and savvy and, for some, as far from idealists as you can get.
So yes, I’m still smarting from Yolanda’s words and, worse, I don’t blame her one bit. If it were my loved one investing their hopes in this project, I wouldn’t trust us either.
I put that all aside. We have that critically injured patient to worry about. Again, Pierre is in his element, and I leave him in charge as I fall into a support role, doing whatever he needs to be sure Bruno is stable. In the end, “stable” is the best we can hope for until April arrives.
Pierre does what he can, and then tells me he can take things from there. In other words, I can leave.
Here’s where the suspicious bitch in me must take over, the homicide detective who has seen too much to trust anyone she doesn’t know well… and sometimes those she does. Bruno was badly injured in the forest. I have no idea what happened yet—accident or attack—but there are a limited number of suspects, and most of them are right here in this town. That means I am not leaving anyone alone with Bruno.
I finesse it as best I can. Pierre was dragged out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, and Bruno is stable, and April may need Pierre’s help. So he should return to bed while he can, and Dalton and I will watch Bruno. Pierre doesn’t argue. He asks us to bring him as soon as April arrives, and then he leaves.
We secure the back door, and then we go into what will be April’s office. Right now, it’s a small room—walk-in-closet-sized—with a bookcase and a filing cabinet, because those were her priorities, far more than a desk and chair.
Dalton wheels in chairs from the waiting room, and we sit in there, with the door open so we can keep an eye on Bruno.
I tell Dalton what Yolanda said about us. His response is seven words, all of them profanity.
“Is she wrong?” I say. “At least, wrong to be concerned for Émilie?”
“No, that’s the cause of my uncharacteristic use of foul language.”
That makes me laugh. Dalton is known for his colorful language. Or he was, and I know I’m always going to get outbursts like that, but post-Rockton, without the need to present a certain persona, it’s not quite as much a part of his everyday vocabulary.
“I prefer our enemies to be evil,” he says. “That makes it easier to ignore them.”
I snort another laugh. “Yolanda isn’t our enemy.”
“An antagonistic force of opposition, then. Or, in colloquial terms, a royal pain in our asses.”
“Well, she has a reason to be, and I wanted you to know that. We’re not con artists, and we’re not hippies in rose-tinted glasses, but we need to accept her point of view as valid and move on without trying to win her over.”
His brows shoot up. “Me try to win someone over?”
“Fine, you don’t try. You just do.”
“Right back at you.”
“Mmm, I think I do try, at least a little. But yes, neither of us is exactly the people-pleasing type, and in this case, it helps to know where the resistance is coming from, and acknowledge that it’s a valid place.”
“While counting down the days until she gets on a plane, and we can go about our business without the stern looks of disapproval?”
I smile. “Twenty-three, by my count.” I pull my legs onto the chair, crossing them as I get comfortable. “All right, so let’s talk about what the hell just happened out there.”
“Bruno? The tame wolf? Or the person who apparentlytamed the wolf and left it to guard Bruno’s badly injured body, which they’d transported close enough for us to find, while leaving a clear ‘get the hell out of Dodge’ message around his neck?”
“Yes. All of it. The obvious big question is whether Bruno’s injuries are also a message.”
“Did the person who left him also injure him? Seems likely. Beat the shit out of him but don’t kill him. Drag him close and then hope we stumble over his body before the critters eat him alive.”
