“Which—” I look at Dalton. “Maybe you should step outside.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ll be discussing my sex life,” Isabel says. “Which would be less awkward if you’d step out, but I know you won’t, so ignore him, Casey. If he gets uncomfortable, he’ll leave, but I don’t think Eric knows the meaning of the word.”

“Okay, well, I was going to say that, given what you do here, you know as well as anyone that cheating isn’t always about sex. Sometimes—hell, most times, I suspect—it’s about filling other needs, including novelty.”

“Having been a psychologist, I know that very well. It doesn’t apply here. Mick is a simple man with simple tastes. And whatever you might think of our relationship, we care about each other. Deeply. But I’ll set aside sentimentality and put it in words you’ll better understand. Mick knows if I ever catch him stepping out, it’s over. My ego’s too healthy to take back a cheating bastard.”

“Okay.” I take out my notebook. “Give me your story.”

We’ve been searching the town for two hours. We haven’t mobilized the militia yet. It’s just the three of us, going door to door. I’m with Dalton. I knock on a door and nicely ask if the occupant has seen Mick. Most times I get a sleepy, “No, I haven’t. Is something wrong?” If they complain about the hour, Dalton shoulders past and tramps through their house, throwing open every door with a look that dares them to utter the phrase “private property.”

We do step into a few of the houses even where the occupant was polite—if said occupant is female and looks as if she could have enticed Mick into her bed. I do it with a few of the guys, too, because that’s an even better answer—if Mick has needs that Isabel can’t fill.

Am I hoping to find Mick cheating on Isabel? Yes. Because otherwise, I have to consider him for the role of killer. That’s another reason for going door to door. Making sure everyone is accounted for. So far so good, but not finding Mick in another bed—and not finding anyone missing from theirs—raises another possibility. That Mick is actually victim number five.

We’re two-thirds done when we reach Val’s place.

“Hiding, Val?” Dalton says as she opens the door.

“No, of course not.”

“Huh. Not even going to ask why I’d knock on your door at 3 a.m.?”

She fumbles through some excuse, but Dalton’s right. By this point, most people are opening their doors before we even get there, having caught voices in the quiet night and cracked open a window to listen.

“You should get dressed,” Dalton says. “Come out and get ready with a statement, in case folks get antsy.”

“I think you can handle that, Eric.”

“Sure, I could, but it would take me away from, you know, actually searching for our missing resident. I’m kinda thinking public statements ought to be your domain from now on, Val. Fuck knows, it’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

The door closes.

“All right,” he calls through the door. “You go get dressed. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you’ll make a statement in twenty minutes. They can gather right here and wait.”

“Casey?” a voice murmurs behind me. It’s Kenny. “I, uh, have something for you,” he says. “A tip.”

I lead him into a pocket of shadow. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Dalton says as he strides over. “As usual, he’s just trying to get your attention. That right, Kenny?”

“No, sir. I’ve got a real tip for her.”

“Yeah? You seem to have a lot of tips for Detective Butler. You never did that for me. I’m kinda hurt.” He steps closer. “Stop trying to get her attention.”

“What? No. I know you and her …” He clears his throat. “I know you wouldn’t like that.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t. I don’t appreciate you wasting my detective’s time.”

Which is not what Kenny meant at all. When two people of the opposite sex spend enough time together, people jump to conclusions. The only reason they aren’t outright saying anything is that I’m spending a lot of time with two guys, and no one wants to guess which I’m sleeping with and risk pissing off the other. Anders thinks it’s hilarious. I find it amusing. Dalton has no idea it’s even happening.

“Give Casey the tip,” Dalton says. “And if it’s bullshit, you’re on chopping duty next week.”

“You’re looking for Mick, right? Well, I saw him around eleven. I was leaving the shop after working on a piece Isabel wants. When I spotted Mick heading my way, I thought he was coming to give me shit because it’s late. So I say hi. He says hi and keeps going, heading around the lumber shed.”

“Lumber shed?” I say.

“It’s where we store the lumber.”

“She means why would he be going that way?” Dalton says. Then he turns to me. “No reason.”

“Could he have been heading into the woods?”

“He wasn’t,” Kenny says. “I heard the back door open. He went in.”

“Inside the lumber shed? What’s in there besides wood?”

“Nothing,” Kenny says. “Not even much wood. The guys are just starting to bring in logs for winter, so it’s mostly empty space right now. But, uh, very private.”