I move to the bed, and I sit beside him, and that’s it. We just sit there. In silence. Like we did in the cave. Lost in remorse and guilt that won’t ever go away. Not for either of us. There are no excuses here. No easy answers, either. We’ll spend the rest of our lives dealing with what we did. Period.

As for Jacob, Dalton’s dealing with that, too. I’ll help, as much as I can, but it’s his brother, and I understand that. The fact that we no longer have a doctor in Rockton complicates matters—with both Jacob’s withdrawal and Anders’s recovery. We’ve called on anyone with any medical training to step up. Except that two of those three people are also on Dalton’s watch list, having bought their way into Rockton. Complicated? Fuck, yes, as Dalton would say. But we’ll deal. We have to.

Then there’s Diana. We know she didn’t kill Mick, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still being deported. I haven’t talked to her since I learned the truth. I’ve been telling myself that I can have that talk in Dawson City, more privately. Except with Anders incapacitated, I need to stay behind as the only law enforcement in town.

Two days after Beth leaves, the council decides Dalton is well enough to take Diana out and I promise to speak to her that morning. At eleven, Dalton finds me still at my desk.

“We leave in an hour, Casey.”

I keep writing. “I just need to finish this report.”

“I’ll do it. You go see Diana.”

When I don’t answer, he shifts his weight and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not pushing you to be a jerk, Casey. I just think if you don’t …”

“I’ll regret losing the opportunity for closure. Diana is about to walk out of it forever, and there are things I need to say.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we …?” I inhale. “I know you’re on a schedule, but is there any way we can walk? Just walk?”

He nods, and we head out.

We head into the forest and keep going until we’re not walking anymore, and he’s clearing my mind with something other than conversation. I need that. I really do. I need all of it—the forest and him and, afterward, those moments of silence, lying on the ground, watching him stare into the woods, and the absolute peace of seeing his expression and understanding it.

“Can I … get your advice?” I ask. “About Diana. What I’m going to say to her. I want to resolve this, but I don’t want our last moments to turn into a confrontation.”

He gives me that dissection look, and I add, “I don’t want to let her off the hook, either,” and he nods at that, satisfied that I’m not going to accept whatever she dishes out and tell myself I deserve it. I’m past that. Finally past it.

“Tell me what you want to say,” he says, and I do.

Fourteen

We’re nearly back to town when Kenny radioes that he has Diana at the station. We’re taking her out that way rather than marching her through town. We haven’t let the others know what she’s done, but news has travelled, along with the opinion that she shouldn’t be allowed to get on that plane and sail off scot-free.

We go into the station and Diana’s there, with her back to us. Dalton takes Kenny out the back. I wait until the screen door shuts. Then I say, “I’d like to talk.”

“Too late.” Diana turns, and there’s an ugly smile on her face. “You had time to talk to me, Casey. You didn’t. You’ve lost your chance to apologize.”

“Apo—Apologize?”

“I saved you and you treated me like crap, and I’m not giving you the chance to make amends now. I’m walking out of this shithole of a town and I’m going south, to a real life, the kind I could never have while you were hanging around my neck.”

I open my mouth, but she’s going strong.

“I’m going to track down that asshole Graham and get my money. I have a plan all worked out. The perfect way to get him to do what I want.” She gives that ugly smile again. “Because I’ve realized I’m kinda good at that, aren’t I?”

She stands there, chin raised. After a moment she says, “Come on, Casey, hit me. You know you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“How about you, sheriff?” she calls. “I know you’re listening. Making sure I don’t damage your broken little girl. Come on in and tell me what you think of me.”

Dalton opens the back screen door and she sneers, as if he’s sneaking in, abashed. Which he isn’t—leaving that door open meant he hadn’t been hiding.

“Go for it, sheriff,” she says. “Tell me what a bitch I am.”

“Nah,” he says. “A bitch has spine. You’re just pathetic.”

She launches herself at him, and before I can intercede, he’s blocked her, easily holding her away from him until she backs off, her lip curled. Then she spins on me.

“You want to apologize, Casey. Fine. Get it out of your system.”

“I have nothing to apologize for. You do, but I see that’s not forthcoming, so—”

“I saved you,” she says. “Look at you. A new boyfriend. New friends. An actual social life. And you’re a goddamned local hero. Solved the mystery. Saved the town. All hail Casey Duncan—whoops, Butler. Casey Duncan is a murderer. Casey Butler is a hero.”

“Are you finished?” I ask, and that really does stop her. Into the silence, I say, “Yes, I’m better off for coming up here. It was exactly what I needed. But you didn’t bring me here to help me. You brought me here to help you. To be here for you.”