“Make them. Please. If they argue, tell them Eric said that anyone who ignores you is going ice fishing. Let them interpret that however they want.”
She snorts a chuckle, then says, “I want militia pay.”
“If you keep everyone away, you’ll get double. If anyone trespasses, consider it volunteer work.”
* * *
Val is huddled on her couch, comforter wrapped around her. When I walk in, I say, “Would you like a tea?” and she shakes her head.
“It was him,” she says. “Sheriff Dalton.”
“Let’s back up to what happened.”
She looks up sharply. “You don’t believe me.”
“We’ll get to that. First—”
She rises, comforter falling from one shoulder. “No, this first, Detective. I’m telling you that I saw a man in my room, and I can positively identify him, and you’re ignoring that because he happens to be your lover.”
“This just happened, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Eric has been with me for over an hour.”
“Sleeping with you. Or so you thought.”
“It’s barely midnight, Val. We were awake.”
“You think you were. You don’t want to believe he’d do this.”
“No, I know I was awake, and I know he was there, because we were having sex.”
She blanches, and her voice sharpens. “I did not need to hear that, Detective.”
“Apparently, you did. You weren’t listening to me otherwise. Eric got home almost two hours ago. We played with the puppy. Then sex. Then talking. He was there the whole time. It’d have been kind of hard not to notice. He has alibis before that, too. For the entire evening.”
“He was quick with that, wasn’t he? Giving you alibis.”
“Because he’s been accused of a very serious offense by someone who actively dislikes him. He’s a little freaked out right now. If you think that I’m lying to give him an alibi, speak to Kenny, who came running in when Eric and I were in front of the fire, having a beer … and not wearing clothing. That’d be a helluva trick if Eric had just left your house. This wasn’t him, Val. Either you mistakenly thought it was, or you’re trying to frame him.”
“Frame him? Are you saying I made this up? There was a man in my room, Detective. In my bedroom.”
“And the way you’re wording that suggests you’re no longer certain it was Eric.”
She pulls the comforter up again and slides back down to the sofa.
“Walk me through it.”
She does. She went to bed at ten and fell asleep quickly—“I haven’t been sleeping well, and I had sleep aids from when Elizabeth was here.” She dropped into a deep sleep, waking when she sensed someone in the room. She sat up to see a man whom she swears was Dalton, sitting in the chair by her bed, watching her sleep. When she screamed, he left.
“Left?” I say. “You mean he ran out of the room?”
“Ran, walked … I don’t know. I was getting out of bed as fast as I could, and when I was up, he was gone.”
“Could you tell which way he went?”
She can’t. It only takes a quick search for me to confirm there’s no one still here.
“He left,” she says when I return. “I was in a state of shock, and I did not pay attention to which exit he used. I hardly see how it matters.”
“It would make it easier to track footprints,” I say. “We’ll check both doors. All the windows are winter sealed. What about your balcony?”
“That is also sealed. Permanently. I consider the balconies unsafe and have told the council so.”
I get a full description of the man she saw. As soon as she claimed it was Dalton, I thought of the guy who could be mistaken for him: Jacob. I can’t imagine why Jacob would do this, but I have to check. Yet Val is adamant that the man had short hair and a close-cropped beard.
She is adamant it was Dalton.
* * *
Jen does keep everyone away from the scene, but it’s soon apparent I’m not going to find evidence there. There are few prints, and none match the snowsuit man’s.
It’s been over an hour, and I’m still painstakingly examining every footprint within a ten meter radius of Val’s house. I’m on my second round and I’m crouching, my flashlight beam illuminating a set of prints, as Anders walks over.
“Anything?” he asks.
“Lots of prints, but none near the back door, and I can identify the ones at the front. Mine. Val’s. Kenny’s. Paul’s. That’s it. As for the person Paul thought he saw in the forest, he took me to the spot. There are fresh deer tracks. That’s it.”
“Yeah, we didn’t find anything in the forest, either. So there’s no proof anyone broke into her place. Yet she not only claims someone did, but that it was Eric—even when she knows he has a bulletproof alibi. That’s just weird. If she’s trying to frame him, at least wait until the actual middle of the might, when you’d be asleep.”
“I think it’s more likely a nightmare. She dreamed he was in her room and then woke up screaming and never realized it was only a dream.” I straighten. “I don’t know if that’s plausible.”
“Actually, it’s totally plausible. I had about a year where I couldn’t sleep without pills. If I actually managed drift off, I’d hallucinate something almost exactly like that. I’d see my buddies who got killed by the IED. Or the officer I killed afterward. They’d be standing by my bed.”