Chapter 25
Dungar
The walk to the sheriff’s office felt like a funeral procession. I flanked the three women while Riley walked in front, her hand resting casually on her weapon. My brothers surrounded our group, their big frames creating an impenetrable escort along Main Street.
The night air carried the scent of cooling earth and distant pine, but all I could focus on was the failure of my carefully constructed operation.
If they were telling the truth, something we’d be able to confirm quickly, then every detail I’d planned, every contingency I’d mapped, and every protocol I’d established had been based on false assumptions.
“I still can’t believe you think I’d harm the luminooks,” Mary said with a touch of hurt in her tone as we climbed the steps to the jail. “I was so careful to follow the king’s instructions.”
I may have missed something fundamental.
Inside the office, my brothers gathered around my desk while I urged the women to sit.
“I’m going to question each of you separately,” I said. Common procedure to see if there were holes in their stories.
“Do you need us any longer?” Tark asked, glancing toward the dark window. It had to be after midnight. They must be as tired as me.
“No, thanks.” My lips thinned. “I’ll reach out in the morning.”
Each one of them hugged Riley and me before leaving, their acceptance of her as my mate warming me through.
The last to leave, Greel squeezed my shoulder before turning toward the door. “Call if you need anything.”
When the door closed behind them, silence settled over the office. Mary, Ava, and Joyce sat in the three chairs I’d arranged in a precise line facing my desk. Riley positioned herself off to the side, her hand on the hilt of her weapon.
I nudged my head to the small room on one side, beyond the jailcell. “Joyce first.” At my urging, she went ahead of me into the storage closet, me following with a chair. After shutting the door, I pointed. “Have a seat.”
She did as I asked, her hands trembling.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” I said. “You said you came to Lonesome Creek because Mary recommended it?”
Joyce nodded. “I mentioned that Mary and I went to college together. We’ve stayed in touch over the years. When I told her I needed a vacation, she suggested this place. She said it was beautiful and peaceful.”
I wrote down her response in a doc on my phone, noting the consistency with her earlier statement. “And the phone call yesterday about everything being ready for tonight?”
“I was confirming with Ava that her camera equipment was all set. The king wanted documentation of the process.” Joyce glanced toward the door. “I wanted to make sure we could help properly.”
A quick scroll on the internet showed that Joyce’s background check came back clean.
When I’d finished with her, I opened the door. “Please wait with Mary. Send Ava in next.”
Joyce scurried from the small room and Ava soon appeared, sitting before I asked.
I went through the same details, focusing on her role as photographer.
She shifted in her chair. “The timing was crucial, according to Mary. New moon phase, optimal conditions for environmental adaptation. I spent the day checking my equipment, making sure everything was calibrated correctly.”
Ava’s credentials also verified perfectly; her online portfolio showed years of legitimate wildlife photography.
After finishing with her, I quizzed Mary.
“Tell me exactly what the king said to you during his visit,” I said after she’d taken a seat.
Mary straightened in the chair, her expression earnest. “He spent nearly three hours observing the luminooks. He seemed concerned about their stress levels, the way they were clustering in the far corners of their enclosures. When I mentioned my background in xenobiology, his whole demeanor changed.”
“How so?”
“He was interested in my suggestions for habitat modification. Surface conditions are challenging for creatures adapted to deep caverns. The light cycles are different, the mineral content of the soil, even the air pressure.” Mary’s professional knowledge came through in every word.
“The king asked if I’d be willing to help develop transition protocols and add more features from the orc kingdom to help them acclimate better. ”
I continued writing, each detail she provided matching what I knew about luminook physiology. “And he mentioned sending official documentation?”
“He was very specific about it. He said he’d send formal authorization through your mail system prior to the boxes’ arrival. That you’d coordinate with your brothers about timing and implementation.” Mary frowned. “I don’t know why he didn’t send the letter.”
Every piece of her story fits with the king’s known concerns about surface adaptation. Every protocol she described matched orc administrative procedures. Yet I’d received no official communication.
Mary’s xenobiology degree was real, her academic papers on interspecies habitat modification impressive.
“Why work in maintenance with your xenobiology background?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I needed a break. I grew up helping my dad during summer vacations. He was a high school janitor. And I’ll be honest.” Her chin rose.
“I wanted to see the creatures you were bringing to the surface. I’ve been fascinated with them all.
When the opportunity came up to work here, I jumped at the chance. ”
When I’d finished, I released all three with instructions to remain in town. By then, my carefully ordered world felt like it was tilting on its axis.
“Something’s wrong with my system,” I told Riley as the front door closed behind them. I stared at my phone where I’d documented every detail, every piece of evidence that supported their innocence. “I don’t miss official communications. Ever.”
“Maybe the king forgot to send the letter?” Riley moved to stand beside me, her hand settling on my forearm. “I don’t believe you’re to blame. Your systems are thorough, Dungar. If you didn’t receive that documentation, there’s a reason.”
With a sigh, I sat behind my desk.
I aligned my pen precisely parallel to my phone’s edge, but the small ritual only provided minimal comfort. “Weeks of investigation. Surveillance operations. Mobilizing my brothers. All based on the wrong assumption.”
“We were protecting the luminooks based on genuine evidence of tampering,” she said gently. “The fence cuts were real. The specialized equipment was real. Someone may still be targeting them.”
“But not these women.” I rubbed my temples, trying to reconcile the facts with my failure to receive crucial information. “I’ve documented every piece of mail that’s come to this office for the past year. Color-coded by sender, priority level, response requirements. Nothing gets missed.”
Riley was quiet for a moment, before her spine tightened. “Wait. Billy.”
“What?”
“He locked us in the jail cell. Remember the day after when she brought him to apologize and return the key? After they left, he was playing with the mailbox. She told him to stop, that it might contain real mail you’d need.
He raced down the boardwalk with his grandmother chasing him.
I noted that the box was open and shut the lid. ”
Ah.
I reached for my phone, dialing Ruugar’s number, hoping he’d still be awake. He answered on the second ring.
“Are Cara Winslow and Billy still in town?” I asked.
“Yes, they booked a room through the weekend. Why?”
I explained our suspicion to my brother.
“You should ask Aunt Inla about it,” Ruugar said, yawning. “She sorts the mail when it comes in. I’m sure she’ll remember if you received anything official.”
“Thanks. Back to bed.”
His low laugh rang out. “I didn’t even get up.”
I could hear Beth mumbling in the background, probably telling me to let Ruugar get some sleep.
“Thanks for all your help. Night,” I said.
He returned the same.
Ending the call, I turned to Riley watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. “What are you thinking?”
“That a five-year-old boy might have accidentally disrupted the most thorough administrative system I’ve ever seen.” Her smile held no mockery, only understanding. “It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so—”
“Devastating to my professional credibility.”
“I was going to say human. Or orc-like. Whatever the equivalent is for making mistakes.”
I sighed. “I don’t make mistakes like this.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Dungar. Even you. Your systems aren’t infallible because they’re run by people, those who can be distracted by deputies getting locked in jail cells.”
Despite everything, her teasing tone coaxed a smile from me. “You’re suggesting I was distracted?”
“I’m suggesting that sometimes life happens around our best-laid plans. Sometimes five-year-olds play with mailboxes and disrupt international correspondence.” She reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers. “It doesn’t make you a failure.”
Cupping her face, I kissed her, rubbing our noses together after. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
We left the office, riding Treelee home through the quiet night. My mind churned through possibilities, reorganizing the facts into new patterns. If Billy had tampered with the mail and Aunt Inla had seen the king’s documentation, then everything I knew about this case needed to be reconsidered.
Back home, I spent an hour updating my files, creating new categories for the information I’d gathered. Riley sat beside me at the kitchen table, occasionally asking questions that helped me think through the implications.
“We’ll figure this out,” she said as I closed my laptop. “Tomorrow we’ll talk to Aunt Inla and Cara Winslow. Then we’ll find out who might be threatening the luminooks.”
I nodded, appreciating her certainty even as doubt gnawed at my bones. “I should’ve considered every variable.”
“You should’ve anticipated that a tourist child might disrupt postal delivery?” She raised an eyebrow. “Even your planning abilities have limits.”
“Apparently.” The admission tasted bitter.