A Darkness Absolute (Rockton 2)

"Mind reader," I say.

"It's an easy mind to read sometimes."

When I shine the beam on Robyn's lower back, I see a black line, too smooth to be natural. We use our gloves to stretch the skin. Then I trace the outline as best I can onto a piece of paper while Anders holds the penlight. I try not to think about how many tools I could access at home to help me reconstruct this. Except I wouldn't be reconstructing it at all. I wouldn't even be examining her. The coroner and lab techs would do all the work.

I can grumble about the elbow grease and hurdle jumping and imperfect measures that go into lifting that tattoo. The truth is, though, that I love the creative workout that goes into figuring out a solution to problems so easily solved in a modern lab. Victims are usually better served by that tech--DNA analysis has put countless perpetrators behind bars and saved countless innocents from a life there. But there is something to be said for this level of involvement, digging in and doing the work and knowing that the case is mine to win or lose.

When I finish shading in the lines, the shape takes form. It's a raven inside a sun, done in a style reminis

cent of southwest Native American art. When Nicole said her captor had called it a "heathen" symbol, I expected something occult. But this fits, being what he might interpret as religious art from a non-Christian faith.

"We've got one perpetrator," Anders says.

"We do."

"Does that help?"

"I hope so."

*

Dalton and I are having lunch at the station.

"So we have a time line now," he says. "Whoever took Nicole has to have been around at least five years. Which means, since you've eliminated me and Isabel..."

The next "oldest" person in terms of residency would be Mathias, who arrived months after Robyn disappeared.

"Val was right," I say. "We're looking at someone from outside. A settler or a hostile."

"Agreed."

"I know more about the settlers. There are a few small communities, plus those who live on their own, like your brother. We'll start by talking to Jacob, get his opinion on who fits the physical description or seems a good suspect. As for the hostiles, what can you tell me about them?"

"They're hostile."

"Uh, yeah ... says so right there on the label."

"Yep. And that label means I don't know shit about them. I've had encounters only, which I've kept as brief as possible."

"Have you spoken to them?"

"Fuck, no. Most times, I don't even see them. They're like any other predator--the moment I know one's nearby, I put on my threat display while getting the hell off their territory."

"How do you know they're hostiles and not settlers?"

"Well, let's see." He points to a tiny scar along his hairline. "That's the one who slingshot a rock and nearly put my eye out. He was howling and yipping like a feral dog. Then there was the one who charged me. He was naked except for the belt made of bones. He'd painted himself in mud. Or I hoped it was mud, but wasn't getting downwind to be sure."

"And that's proof you're dealing with hostiles?" I snort. "I ran into those guys every time I had to break up a frat party."

"That's the problem with kids down south. They don't have enough to do. Enough responsibility."

"You sound like such an old man. Kids these days. When I was their age, I had to haul water five miles, chop wood in snowstorms, hunt for our dinner, and do my homework by candlelight." I pause. "Oh, wait. You really are that guy."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Okay, so we don't have a lot on hostiles, then," I say. "I may need more, town records or whatever, but for now, I'll start by focusing on settlers. In the meantime, Nicole has a request, and you aren't going to like it."

THIRTY