The Wild Dead (The Bannerless Saga 2)

he tilted her head. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I brought this down on all of us. If I’d just let the house go, if I hadn’t called an investigation—none of this would have happened.”

“You’d have found Ella’s body, called it just one of those things, and never thought about it again, is that it?”

He looked out at the shoreline, the lapping water, that convenient distraction. They never even would have asked the questions.

He asked, “Are we going to be okay? I mean, all of us along the marsh here. After all this. Are we ever going to be okay?”

“May take a little work. But most of you, yeah.”

They’d need to look out for one another. But that was supposed to be the whole point, wasn’t it? Looking out for one another. His nod was slow, hesitating. Like he wasn’t convinced. Nice guy, but Enid was glad to see him go. She wanted to be alone. No—she wanted to be with her own people.

“One other thing, Erik—there’s a young man from the camp upriver named Hawk. He’s taken Ella’s passing hard. He might come down here looking for some kind of revenge. Just . . . keep an eye out.”

“So they really did care for her. Her people, I mean.”

“Did you doubt it?”

He scuffed his feet and decided this was the moment to walk on.

Enid had to have one more conversation. Not for the case or the report, but for herself. She had to jog to catch up with the folk of Last House, already past the bridge.

“Neeve!” she called. At this, the men of the house closed ranks around the woman.

“Leave us alone, just leave us alone!” Kellan cried out, pressing hands to his skull and squeezing his eyes shut.

Frustrated and losing patience, Enid halted. She was being selfish. She should just leave them alone. But she needed to ask one last question. “I just need to speak with Neeve a moment. This isn’t about the case; that’s done. There’s no more trouble. I spoke to the folk up in the hills about you, Neeve.”

That sparked Neeve’s interest. She lifted her head and put a hand on Mart’s arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured.

Glaring, he obviously wasn’t sure. But he stepped aside.

Enid guided Neeve away, off the path, walking through the scrub. “Walk with me, just a little ways.” Enid figured taking Neeve away from her household, away from everyone, the woman would be more likely to talk.

Enid said, “I went to the camp up the hill. I talked to El Juez.”

Neeve ducked her head to hide a smile. “He was just Rico back then. So he’s in charge there now?”

“I suppose.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. He’s easy to follow.”

“You did. For a little while.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted a child so badly, you cut out your implant. Then why did you leave her behind?”

Neeve wore a knitted shawl, same pattern as Ella’s kerchief. Her hands picked at the stitches, stretching the yarn. Like she always needed something to do with her hands. “I wanted Rico to come here. We could say Ella was his, not mine. We could explain it all. We could have it all.”

“Man like that was never going to come live here,” Enid said. She’d known the man for just a couple of days and could tell that. “So why did you leave the baby behind?”

The smile vanished. Her voice broke. “Because if I brought her back, she’d be taken away. Someone like you would take her away.”

“Then why didn’t you stay there, with her?”

“Why are you asking? Ella’s dead, it’s all ruined, why do you care?”