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talk it up too much with Cope, okay? He’s not that wild about the whole business. I think as far as the sarge’s concerned, it’s”—he made a smoothing motion—“case closed.” His hand swiped back through the air, brushing away doubts. “We get her over to the mainland, we’re done.”
    â€œIf we can find her.”
    â€œI’ll find her,” he said peaceably, and made it sound so inevitable that she felt better at once.
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    Staff Sergeant Cope left Jonas to begin the process of asking around town while he called Goose into the station. She braced herself for a bawling. At first, though, he hardly said anything at all. He looked at the cell, and the door, and (she handed them to him) the keys. He shone a flashlight at them as if she’d missed something. He asked all the obvious questions, leaving long, thoughtful gaps between them. He rubbed his bald patch. She stood very straight with her hands behind her back and called him “sir” in every sentence; right from when she’d arrived at the detachment she’d pegged him for the type who liked old-fashioned discipline. When he’d finished doing all the obvious things he went and stood in the entrance to the station, blocking the door, squinting up at the perpetually low sky.
    â€œI take full responsibility, sir.” She addressed his pudgy back.
    â€œDamn straight.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œDamn straight you do.”
    That was when she began to suspect things weren’t going as well as she’d dared to think.
    â€œI can find her, sir. Someone must have seen the accomplice. Jonas—”
    â€œThere’s no accomplice.”
    From behind, he looked remarkably like a tackle bag. She gripped her hands more firmly behind her back and told herself to stay calm. “With respect—”
    â€œJust shut up, Maculloch.” The bag rearranged itself at the top end: a sigh. He came back in and closed the door. “That kid hasn’t got any friends. You think she’d be here if she had anyone? There’s no damn accomplice. I wish there was. They could have her. Anyone else can have her, far as I’m concerned. Long as I never have to deal with that kid ever again.” His radio coughed at him; he snatched it and yelled, “Not now!” Only then did she see he was turning red around the collar.
    â€œWe can find her soon, sir. Jonas’ll get a lead. Once we do I promise she won’t go out of my sight until I hand her over to the officers in Prince Rupe.”
    Cope sat on the edge of a desk. It creaked under the weight.
    â€œYou know what? I hope we don’t.”
    This felt like the beginning of the bawling at last, so she simply stood to attention, fixing her eyes on a spot on the wall, which happened to be the knot of the prime minister’s tie in the standard-issue photo.
    â€œI hope to God she’s just gone. Ran off into the woods and a bear ate her. That’d be damn perfect. No more Jennifer Knox. How sweet that sounds. You have no damn idea how much I’m dealing with already today.”
    The very worst thing about being posted up here was having no one to take things out on anymore. Back down in Victoria there’d been full-contact training twice a week, an hour of dumping bigger girls on their asses, or, if she was lucky, guys. The best she’d been able to find in Hardy was a martial arts studio in an empty room above a supermarket, and the only other people who went were kids; too easy. Maybe she’d take the kayak out later, she thought, and smack the water till she couldn’t see for sweat.
    â€œAll I want from my officers is that they don’t screw up too bad. That’s it. I don’t expect anything complicated. Fitzgerald’s a dumbass, but that was okay. He showed up, he drove around, he didn’t mess up. That was fine. That was good. He may be a dumbass, but he