“But Diana was. When did you start seriously investigating her?”

“I asked my father to look into it when I went to pick you up. By the time we went back to Dawson City, he’d found out about the missing money and the ex who just paid off some serious debts. He also got proof they’d reunited—overnight trips and stuff.”

I’m going to the spa this weekend. I know you hate them, Casey, so I won’t even ask.

He continues. “The Saratori thing really was a coincidence—one she took advantage of. And it did help you. I gave her that much. Bringing you along. Getting you out of danger. So I wasn’t completely ready to write her off. I thought maybe there was another explanation for the money thing. And if she was back with her ex, why be screwing everything in pants here? Then I heard a rumour that she’d gotten wasted and talked about what she and Graham did, how she doesn’t think he’ll be waiting with the money when she gets back.”

“Really? What a shock. So sleeping around was revenge.” I take a deep breath. “Is this what Isabel was talking about last night? She heard the same rumour about why Diana is here?”

He nods. Then he looks to one side, and I notice Beth there. She’s stopped, as if she was about to retreat.

“Sorry,” she says. “I saw you two and wanted to give you the full autopsy report. But I … I guess that can wait.”

“How much did you hear?” Dalton asks, and she blanches, though there’s no accusation in his voice.

“Not much, but … I already knew. I was going to speak to you about it today, Eric.”

“Fuck,” he says. “Did everyone hear that damned rumour?”

“Rumour? No. Diana told me. When I got her back home after the fire, she was in shock and, possibly, in pain. I gave her something and she, well, it must have reacted with the rydex. She got confused. She thought I was Casey and confessed what she did to her.”

“She confessed,” I say.

She nods, but I didn’t phrase it as a question. It is no longer a question.

“If you like, I can be the one to tell Diana she has to go home,” Dalton says, in a tone that says he already knows my answer but he’ll offer anyway.

I shake my head and continue to Diana’s apartment.

Ten

I want to do this alone. Beth won’t let me.

“She’s unstable, Casey, and last night and the drugs have pushed her over the edge. I’d really rather not sedate her again. Eric can restrain her, if need be, while you calm her down and make it clear she has no choice.”

So they come with me but stay outside the bedroom. Dalton positions himself at the door, where Diana—resting in bed—can’t see him.

Diana and I talk for a few minutes. That’s not me avoiding the conversation. It’s me unable to roar in, guns blasting, and demand answers. That will never be me, no matter how much I’m hurting.

I have no idea what we talk about. I answer her questions on auto-reply and ask some of my own without processing her answers. Finally, when she’s calm, I say, “You have to leave, Di,” as gently as I can.

“Leave?” She’s still foggy from the drugs and her face screws up. “You mean move? Because of Jen? She complained about my screaming?”

“No, Di. You have to leave Rockton.”

“Wh-what? No.” She sits abruptly. “I didn’t kill Mick. I swear to God, I didn’t. Just think about it, Casey? Why would I? Even if I was drunk enough to hit on him, Mick doesn’t mess around on Isabel. Girls have tried. They all fail.”

“They’re kicking you out because you violated the terms of your agreement.”

She stares at me and then says, “How? By having sex? Getting drunk? Using dex a couple times? Hell, by those standards, you and that fucked-up sheriff are the only people who still belong here.”

“You came here under a pretence.”

She stops. Her mouth opens. Shuts. Then, tentatively, “A what?” as if she’s hoping she’s wrong about the meaning of the word.

“A false reason. You and Graham staged your attack to prove your life was in danger.”

“What? No. How can you even—? You honestly think—?”

She can’t get the rest out, and I should seize on her horrified sputtering as proof that everyone else is wrong. But it’s exactly that sputtering that tells me they aren’t.

“You’ve seen how he treats me,” she says. “To even suggest I’m lying about that …?”

“Oh, I know Graham treated you like shit. I also know that you can’t quit him. You reunited again, and he convinced you to steal from your employer.”

Her mouth works again. “S-steal?”

“We have proof.”

“You mean he has proof.”

I don’t need to ask who he is. I shake my head. “Di, don’t do this. It isn’t Eric—”

“So it’s him over me?” She gives a harsh laugh. “Typical. The new boyfriend doesn’t like your girlfriends? Dump them. God, women can be such bitches to each other.”

I struggle for calm. “First, Eric is my boss, not my boyfriend. Second, I have never, ever, ever thrown you over for a guy. Which is more than I can say—” I stop myself. Won’t play the blame game. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but—”

“God, you’re such a cold bitch. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”