"Nicole?" Dalton says. "While he's doing that, tell Will to announce what's happened. Minimal details. Arrange search parties. Let's get them out before dark."
25
We search for Val. Call for Val. There's no sign that either of them was here except for that bullet in the wolf-dog, and even that's hardly ballistic proof. It just means someone shot her with a 9 mm.
I don't know what's going on here. I can speculate, but the whole thing is just fucked up. There's no other term for it. Too many puzzle pieces could fit the hole, and yet none are exactly right.
Did Brady set all this up? That's the answer I both like and hate. My gut likes it for the lack of coincidence. My head hates it for the complexity of the plan.
Also, do I like it a little too much because it proves Brady is a monster, which makes this easier? If it wasn't for Val, having Brady escape might be the best possible solution--let him die out here, no longer a threat to Rockton. But if he is indeed innocent . . . ? Then he is like any other resident, and we failed him. He ran because we failed. He took Val because we failed. We put his back to the wall, and he lashed out.
Do not test me. If you do, you'll see exactly how desperate I am.
Please. Just let me go.
Val is the priority here. But she's nowhere to be found.
We return to the dead wolf-dog, and I examine the site. I find traces of footprints, but the ground is hard enough that they're only smudges, too faint to even tell if they're ours. Hell, even a perfect print of Brady's sneakers could be from our first time here.
When we're finished, I check Dalton's hand. The puncture wounds are red and inflamed.
" 'Cause it's a bite," he says. "Trust me, I've had them. Gotta get it cleaned and then bandaged so it stays clean."
I nod.
"I'm okay, Casey."
I nod again. He puts his fingers under my chin and tilts my face up and bends to kiss me. It's a very sweet kiss, and when it breaks, I say, "You do realize that's an invitation for us to be attacked."
"I'm setting a trap."
I smile at that, and he kisses me again and then feigns stretching a kink from his neck.
"You gotta get taller," he says.
"I'll work on that."
I smile again, because I know he's trying to coax one from me.
He rests his forearms on my shoulders. "This sucks."
I do laugh at that. He's right, though. It might not be the most erudite description of the situation, but it's completely apt. There is nothing we can do about this. Maybe not even anything we could have done to prevent this. It just sucks.
"I should have gone looking for you during the fire," he says. "Should have realized something was up. Fuck, I should have realized what was up--obviously someone set that fire for a reason. We might have stopped him."
"Or gotten Val killed. Gotten me killed. Forced Brady into a panic and sent him over the edge. In hindsight I should have told you what I was doing. But I was playing a hunch, and my hunch was that someone was using the fire as a distraction to kill Brady. While I wasn't going to sit back and let that happen, it wouldn't be the biggest tragedy in the world. Even if he's innocent. That's a shitty thing to say, but he was a threat either way."
"Impossible situation."
I nod.
He looks out at the forest. "Still plenty of daylight left. You okay with walking another hour or so? Gives us a chance to get farther in while heading for a destination."
"Jacob's camp?"
He nods.
"You're worried?"