the clinic, he’s using prescription drugs, but it’s easy enough to monitor that. And only Dalton has access to the outside world, right?”
He catches my look. “Hell, no. Don’t even go there, detective. Eric might not have made the best impression so far, but he’s the last person who’d smuggle in dope. There are other shipments. Drop-offs. The ingredients must be getting in that way. We just haven’t figured out how.”
“Okay, but…?” I say. “Not to sound critical, but this is a town of two hundred people.”
“Why can’t we contain it? Therein lies the real problem of Rockton, Casey. We can’t control anything they don’t want controlled. And by ‘they,’ I don’t mean…” He waves at a few people on the street.
“You mean the town council.”
He gives a humourless chuckle. “Around here, we just call them the council. Can’t be a
town
council if they aren’t actually in town.”
“What? The sheriff said…” No, I’d called them a town council—he just hadn’t argued. “So the selection committee is an off-site board and the town politicians are a different local governing body.”
“There is no local governing body. There are long-term residents who have clout—Eric, Isabel, the doc. But the people in charge live down south. They’re the investors. They sure as hell don’t live here. They have Val here to act as their mouthpiece.”
“But what are they
investing
in? They can’t possibly make money … wait. Sheriff Dalton mentioned white collar criminals who pay more to get in. Not all that money goes to running the town, does it?”
“Nope.”
“So Rockton is run by a bunch of investors who sit in an office tower and make decisions for a town they visit every year or so.”
He snorts a laugh. “Most of them have never set foot in Rockton. This town is an unholy mess, Casey, and the first thing you need to know is who gives a damn and who doesn’t. Those who do?
Really
do? I can count them on one hand. Top of the list? The guy you’re working for.”
I must look doubtful, because he says, “We won’t debate his methods. I could, but I think you’re best to just watch and draw your own conclusions. In his defence, I’ll only say that
no one
cares as much about Rockton. Eric isn’t like everyone else here. First off, he’s native.”
I consider this for a few steps. I’m not wondering whether our blond-haired, grey-eyed sheriff could have First Nations blood—my sister can pass for white while I can’t. What I’m wondering is what his heritage has to do with his commitment to the town.
“So Dal—Eric is … a Native Canadian,” I say.
Anders looks over and then laughs. “No, not like that. He acts like it, with all the time he spends in that forest or sitting on the damn porch staring at it. Though I suppose that’d be a stereotype, wouldn’t it? No, I meant he’s from here.”
“The North?”
“Here.” Anders waves around us. “Born and bred, never going to leave.”
“You mean he’s actually
from
Rockton. I didn’t think anyone— Well, obviously some would be. You can’t fill every position with people looking to escape, and you can’t have them all leave again after five years.”
“True. Some folks are in this for the long haul, like me. But up here, ‘long haul’ usually means ten years tops. Eric is the only exception. His parents came here together. His dad was the former sheriff and Eric was born here.”
That’s why Dalton had hesitated when I mentioned kids. Rockton used to have one: him.
Anders continues. “When his folks retired down south, he took over as sheriff. He’s not going anywhere. Which means he’s the one person you can count on to have Rockton’s best interests in mind. Not necessarily the best interests of every individual person, but the town as a whole, as a concept, if you know what I mean.”
“A sanctuary for those who need it.”
He nods. “Exactly. And for Eric, that sure as hell
He catches my look. “Hell, no. Don’t even go there, detective. Eric might not have made the best impression so far, but he’s the last person who’d smuggle in dope. There are other shipments. Drop-offs. The ingredients must be getting in that way. We just haven’t figured out how.”
“Okay, but…?” I say. “Not to sound critical, but this is a town of two hundred people.”
“Why can’t we contain it? Therein lies the real problem of Rockton, Casey. We can’t control anything they don’t want controlled. And by ‘they,’ I don’t mean…” He waves at a few people on the street.
“You mean the town council.”
He gives a humourless chuckle. “Around here, we just call them the council. Can’t be a
town
council if they aren’t actually in town.”
“What? The sheriff said…” No, I’d called them a town council—he just hadn’t argued. “So the selection committee is an off-site board and the town politicians are a different local governing body.”
“There is no local governing body. There are long-term residents who have clout—Eric, Isabel, the doc. But the people in charge live down south. They’re the investors. They sure as hell don’t live here. They have Val here to act as their mouthpiece.”
“But what are they
investing
in? They can’t possibly make money … wait. Sheriff Dalton mentioned white collar criminals who pay more to get in. Not all that money goes to running the town, does it?”
“Nope.”
“So Rockton is run by a bunch of investors who sit in an office tower and make decisions for a town they visit every year or so.”
He snorts a laugh. “Most of them have never set foot in Rockton. This town is an unholy mess, Casey, and the first thing you need to know is who gives a damn and who doesn’t. Those who do?
Really
do? I can count them on one hand. Top of the list? The guy you’re working for.”
I must look doubtful, because he says, “We won’t debate his methods. I could, but I think you’re best to just watch and draw your own conclusions. In his defence, I’ll only say that
no one
cares as much about Rockton. Eric isn’t like everyone else here. First off, he’s native.”
I consider this for a few steps. I’m not wondering whether our blond-haired, grey-eyed sheriff could have First Nations blood—my sister can pass for white while I can’t. What I’m wondering is what his heritage has to do with his commitment to the town.
“So Dal—Eric is … a Native Canadian,” I say.
Anders looks over and then laughs. “No, not like that. He acts like it, with all the time he spends in that forest or sitting on the damn porch staring at it. Though I suppose that’d be a stereotype, wouldn’t it? No, I meant he’s from here.”
“The North?”
“Here.” Anders waves around us. “Born and bred, never going to leave.”
“You mean he’s actually
from
Rockton. I didn’t think anyone— Well, obviously some would be. You can’t fill every position with people looking to escape, and you can’t have them all leave again after five years.”
“True. Some folks are in this for the long haul, like me. But up here, ‘long haul’ usually means ten years tops. Eric is the only exception. His parents came here together. His dad was the former sheriff and Eric was born here.”
That’s why Dalton had hesitated when I mentioned kids. Rockton used to have one: him.
Anders continues. “When his folks retired down south, he took over as sheriff. He’s not going anywhere. Which means he’s the one person you can count on to have Rockton’s best interests in mind. Not necessarily the best interests of every individual person, but the town as a whole, as a concept, if you know what I mean.”
“A sanctuary for those who need it.”
He nods. “Exactly. And for Eric, that sure as hell
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