"What?" he says. "Have you not just described Valerie?" At a harder glare, he deigns to add, "In the sense that Valerie can appear to be all of that."
"No," I say.
"He's right," Val says. "I wasn't volunteering but . . ." She looks from me to Isabel, as if searching for an answer there. Then she squares her thin shoulders. "I am perfect for the job. We can even tell him I'm the town leader. That will make him feel as if he warrants special treatment. And he'll know I have power here, which makes me even more useful to him."
"Yeah, no," Dalton says.
"You think I can't handle it, Sheriff?"
He meets her gaze. "No, I think it's dangerous."
"And you think I can't handle that."
"No, Val. I think nobody should be put in that position. Don't pull this bullshit."
I know what he means. When Val first arrived in Rockton, she'd wanted to join a patrol. Dalton argued against it. She took offense--clearly he was discriminating against her because she was a woman. The council had backed Val . . . and she'd been attacked on that trip. Kidnapped by hostiles and almost certainly sexually assaulted, though she vehemently denies it. The truth is that Dalton has never let anyone--even Anders--into the forest so soon after arriving. But even now, Val hears only "You can't handle this," because she's been hearing variations on that all her life.
"Casey?" she says.
"No," Isabel says. "Don't do that, Val."
"Isabel's right," I say. "You're asking me to intercede with my boss, Val. This is a law enforcement issue. He's the sheriff."
I can feel Dalton studying me. Trying to figure out what my answer would be.
"You can still voice an opinion," Val says, and Isabel makes a noise, low in her throat, a warning that Val ignores.
"You think we should try it," Dalton says.
"I . . . I would rather not put Val in that situation," I say.
"In ideal circumstances," he says. "But under these ones, you think it's worth a shot."
I want to say no. Support him. He is my boss, and I never want to undermine his authority. That opens up a situation where residents will act like Phil, coming to me as the calm and reasonable one who can intercede with Dalton. Worse, they'll come to me as his lover, in hopes that I can use leverage.
So I want to just say Dalton's right. But he knows that isn't my answer, and he'll take more offense at a lie.
"I don't like the idea," I say carefully. "But if Val is willing--"
"I am." She straightens and meets Dalton's gaze. "I can do this. Whatever you think of me, E
ric, I believe I am more, and I'd like the opportunity to prove it."
He mutters, "Fuck." It's like when Nicole asked to join the militia after her ordeal. I wanted to say no. Tell her to take more time. Not to push it. But I understood that need to push. Val is trying to step up. She's trying to be a valuable member of the community. Unless we are vehemently against her doing this, it's difficult to deny her that opportunity.
"Fine," Dalton says. "You have a week. If it doesn't go anywhere, I'm pulling you out."
Val wants to start right away. As hard as she fought for this task, once the meeting breaks up, I can tell she's having second thoughts. Yet when I offer her the chance to change her mind, that only solidifies it. She wants to meet him now. Before she loses her nerve.
Val and I walk into the station, talking town business. I give her some files. As she's preparing to leave, I ask her to send Kenny in to relieve me for lunch. She goes . . . and returns to say he's been called off and she'll stay instead. I hem and haw, but she insists.
I tell her I'll be back in thirty minutes. I actually do leave--I go for coffee at the bakery--but I've warned Kenny to keep an ear on that door.
When I return, it's with Dalton, and it hasn't been nearly thirty minutes. She knows to expect that, and when we walk in, she acts surprised, scurrying from the cell room.
"Sheriff," she says.
"Everything okay?" Dalton slows, his gaze moving from Brady to Val.