This Fallen Prey (Rockton 3)

"I don't like this," she says as I walk away.

"No one does," I say, and take Storm inside to help Dalton.

The council has decided not to let Dalton go to Dawson. After what happened today, the situation is "too precarious." I can bitch about that, but they aren't wrong.

We're on Dalton's balcony, which is our bedroom in good weather . . . and sometimes in bad. I've been here nine months, and the allure of falling asleep to the howl of wolves and the perfume of pine and spruce hasn't worn off. We have a mattress out here, and we're lying on it, with Storm at our feet as we talk.

Roy is still in the icehouse. We gave him winter gear and a sleeping bag. He'll be fine. One of the militia guys is in there with him, just in case he decides to sabotage the ice. I wouldn't put it past him. Jen's right that he's been trouble. What happened today, though, was worse than I expected. Far worse.

"He's going back," Dalton says. "As soon as we figure out the shit with Brady, Roy is going home."

"Is that . . . a good idea? They made Diana stay because she posed a security threat."

"Nah, they made Diana stay because they're assholes. They've kicked people out before. They have blackmail to make sure they keep their mouth shut ab

out us. We'll work it out. He's not staying, though. He could have killed you. His so-called backstory says nothing about violence, meaning his file is bullshit."

I don't pursue this. After Dalton finished dealing with the mob, he'd gone to the ice house, and then Roy got to see how Dalton really felt about him attacking me. It wasn't physical. Dalton isn't going to rough up a bound man. But he managed to scare the shit out of Roy without lifting a finger. So while Dalton's calm now, I'd like to back-burner the issue of Roy.

We discuss the mob. Dalton's furious about that, too, especially since they waited until I was alone at the station. That is unacceptable. They've each been sentenced to six months of chopping and sanitation duty, the worst punishment I've seen Dalton inflict since I arrived. This was an uprising. A revolt. We cannot afford that in our little powder keg of a town.

The petition doesn't help. The fact that we have residents complaining that we're erring too far on both sides means we're, well, screwed. We can't inch in either direction without pissing someone off.

"Stay the course," I say. "That's my advice, if you want it."

"Course I do."

"Then we continue on as planned. Ignore those who argue that Brady deserves more freedoms. The bigger threat is Roy's gang. If that continues, we clamp down."

"Martial law." Dalton shakes his head. "I saw it done when I was growing up, and I was kinda proud of the fact that I've never had to resort to that. Thought that meant I was a better sheriff. Bullshit. It just means I got lucky."

"Rockton has never dealt with anything like Brady before. Right now, I think we're just in the unsettled phase. People are on edge. Once his cabin is built, they'll settle." I stretch out on top of him. "We'll be okay."

His arms go around my waist. "We will be."

Which is true. We'll be okay, as both a couple and as individuals. We'll weather this, however it plays out. The problem is everyone else. Everyone we are responsible for.

18

"That is not perfect," Anders is saying early the next morning. "Casey cut the board backward."

"I was just--" Kenny says.

"Being supportive. Encouraging." Anders puts the board in place, and the angle is indeed the wrong way. "Well, at least it's straight. A for effort, Case."

I take back the board, with my middle finger raised.

As I carry it to the sawhorse, Anders says, "Casey hates the effort award. She wants the honest A-plus overachiever award."

"Ignore him," I say. "But yes, Kenny, you can tell me I did it wrong. I'll survive. And I'll do it right the next time."

"Overachiever," Anders calls.

Kenny comes over and helps me line up the cut. I don't tell him I can handle it. He means well. While I've chopped wood, even that was a new experience for me six months ago. When I was growing up, we never had so much as a saw in our garage. My parents would say sharp tools were unsafe, but part of it was also the mentality that such tasks were meant for people who lacked a surgeon's IQ.

Brady's new quarters are almost done, and we're spending every spare minute building.

I hand the fixed board to Kenny.