THIRTY-FOUR
I rap on Val's door. When she opens it, I say, "I warned you I'd eventually need to talk with you about the men who attacked you."
She nods and lets me in. As I head for the living room, she says, "Tea?" and I don't particularly want any, but her inflection tells me she does. Maybe even something stronger.
When she brings it, she says, "I'm not sure how much I can help you, Detective. It really was a fleeting encounter."
"That's more than anyone except Eric has had."
She makes a noise under her breath. Just a small one, though.
She sets the teacups down. I wait until she's settled and then say, "You were out on militia patrol."
"Yes, Phil thought that would be a good experience for me. To more fully experience my new life."
"Phil? The first time we spoke, you said you wanted to go on patrol." She'd used almost the same phrasing too, about "more fully experiencing" her new life here in Rockton.
"I wanted to be part of the community. I wasn't sure how to go about that, and Phil encouraged me to join a patrol, to gain a deeper understanding of the landscape and have an opportunity to get to know members of the militia. To show that I supported their work and didn't consider myself above basic tasks. I agreed. It was exactly what I was looking for. Whatever you may think of me, Casey, I came here prepared to immerse myself in this job and this community. Despite Sheriff Dalton's objections."
"What did Eric object to?"
"Me joining the patrol. He said I wasn't qualified." She sniffs. "In short, I was female."
"He said that?"
"He didn't need to. Look at the militia. Do you see any women on it?"
That isn't Dalton's fault. There was a female member, a few years ago, and he wants more women to join, but they haven't been interested. Honestly, I'm not surprised--it offers little more than bragging rights, and that's just not important to women. They can make the same number of credits doing more interesting and less dangerous work.
"What exactly did Eric say?"
She flutters her hands. "You know how he gets. Blustering about the dangers of the forest, and how people don't understand, and if I wanted to join a picnic party, there was one scheduled for the next week. A picnic party? I don't know what you see in the man, Casey. I understand that you may feel you lack power here. Perhaps that seems the way to get it. You may also feel threatened--I'm sure you endured more than your share of unwanted attention when you arrived. Being with the sheriff might seem the best way to protect yourself and further your interests in this town, but there are other ways."
"I am with Eric because I want to be with Eric. Suggesting anything else is insulting, Val. Very insulting."
She stops, teacup clutched between her hands. "I don't mean to be," she says. "I worry. You seem so bright and accomplished, and yet you choose to be with that ... that--"
"I am well aware of your opinion of Eric, Val. I would like to keep that out of the current discussion, unless it has some bearing on it."
Her hands tighten on the mug, and she goes quiet. Very quiet.
"Val? Does it have some bearing?"
Her finger trembles as she puts the mug down. "Of course not."
"If you have a specific complaint against Eric--"
"I don't."
I eye her. There's more here. Not anything Eric's done--I know him better than that. But there is something connected to her attack and to him.
"Sheriff Dalton did nothing," she says firmly.
"Is that the problem? That he didn't take your attack seriously? You never told him you'd been attacked."
"It did not bear mentioning. He organized and participated in the search. His diligence was unquestionable, as always."
Do I detect a twist of sarcasm?