XIII.

For the sake of propriety, they left things in place until the forensics team from Cascade arrived. Jim watched the highway closely now; if Vassiconelli was out there, this would be a likely time for him to take another shot at Tanner.

Nothing happened.

In light of the mounting evidence that Vin had been set up, Jim formally gave notice that Vin was now officially released on his own recognizance. Vin just nodded; he seemed past reacting to much now.

By the time the Cascade PD was done, it was close to 7. "Back to Cascade?" asked Blair. "We're not camping again, I'm serious, Jim."

Behind him, Ezra Standish was also looking camped-out. "Surely in environs such as this we can do somewhat better than a Motel 6, especially give the occasion," he said.

"There's a nice inn about 5 miles from here," Jim remembered. "Great little restaurant next door. It's high season, but it's a Tuesday. Let's see if they have any vacancies."

So they grabbed up the last available rooms at the Cascade Falls Chateau, got in showers, then dined on planked salmon or steak. Jim expected Larabee and his men to be in the mood for a party, but everyone seemed pretty subdued. A mixture of exhaustion and trepidation - what if finding the gun wasn't enough? Really, only two people knew what had happened inside that store, and it was still Vin's word against Vassiconelli's.

Vin excused himself before coffee and headed back to his room. His first chance to be alone in over a week, Jim realized.

A moment later, a shotgun fired twice.

Larabee and his men shot out of the restaurant at a pace that Jim would have been hard put to equal even with two good legs. Blair, unarmed of course, wasn't far behind them.

Damn, Vin wasn't armed either.

Although he'd been camping out the past two nights, Vin hadn't bothered to look up much, and he'd only stared into the woods when he was trying to figure out if there was something staring back. It was only now, walking the 50 yards along a ridiculously-coiffed cobblestone path between the restaurant and the hotel, with insects buzzing around the halogen floodlights, that Vin really had a sense of being outside at night. Maybe it was the solitude that did it, or maybe he'd been so long in the city that this had become what nighttime was.

Perhaps he could talk to Josiah about this sometime. He bet Josiah thought about this sort of thing. Chris probably did, too, but there were still topics he didn't want to go near with him. Like what it meant to not have people all around you. Chris had been married before Vin knew him, had had a wife and son, and if it were a just universe then Chris's life would be always busy, always full, never tranquil. Family life looked suffocating to Vin, but it was what Chris had chosen for himself, and Vin wondered if he missed the life itself as much as Vin sensed he still missed the people that had made up that life.

There were things you couldn't discuss, though, unless you abstracted it so far your answers were meaningless.

He realized he'd paused, which some part of his mind told him was really stupid to do under a flood light, with Eli Joe still free...

And then he was diving for cover behind a giant planter before he even registered the shot. A second broke a good chunk off the planter, covering him with soil. Where was the gunman?

An instant later, his teammates poured out of the restaurant, which would have been a relief except that this made them targets as well. Plus, they'd all drawn their weapons. Vin needed Eli Joe alive. "Over here!" Vin called. "Keep covered, I think he's around the left side of the hotel. And hold your fire. Don't hurt him. We need him to talk."

Then a bullet came from the nearly behind him, followed by a curse. Had Eli Joe's weapon jammed? Vin charged around the corner; a shotgun lay tossed against the building, and the side door of the hotel was swinging closed.

Vin ran through the doorway, now aware of Chris right behind him. Stairwell, and stamping feet; Vin charged up, barely registering that Chris had peeled off. Three flights - wasn't the hotel only two floors here? Yeah, this last flight led to an open hatchway...

Vin barely had his arms up before a 1x4 swang at his face. Rotted, the board broke on impact. Ha! Eli Joe was taking off across the roof, but was slowed by its moderate slope. He'd get him, here, now! Vin lunged forward and grabbed a booted foot, earning himself a kick to the face from the other.

As long was Eli Joe was up here, stopping wasn't an option. Vin got his feet under himself and pursued Eli Joe across wing. Then Eli Joe was jumping, and if he could make the distance then so could Vin. In another two steps he was on him and Eli Joe went down beneath him.

The slope was steeper here. For several instants they were swinging at each other, rolling downward... Vin let go and Eli Joe continued; had he gone over?

Vin ran down the slope; Eli Joe had somehow slowed himself enough to get a handhold onto the edge of the roof. Vin grasped a wrist and began to pull.

"This ends now, Eli Joe," he said. Gasped. "You're going to tell what really happened to that cashier."

"Like hell," said Eli Joe.

"Why'd you do it?" Vin asked, still pulling as Eli Joe got one elbow up.

"Knew you'd turn me in for lifting stuff sooner or later," grated Eli Joe. "Had to get you out of the way." He was out of danger now, both knees up. "But it didn't work, and I can't have you knowing that I shot that guy."

Vin realized, then, what a precarious position he'd put himself into by pulling Eli Joe up, with the roof rising behind him and Eli Joe in front. And Eli Joe's right hand was swinging forward, a blade suddenly glinting...

And Eli Joe stopped, and his eyes went dead, and he fell.

Vin turned and looked. Chris Larabee, holding his service weapon.

God, he hurt. "Did you hear him, Chris?" he asked. "He confessed. Did you hear him?"

Chris shook his head.

Vin didn't remember getting off the roof, didn't really register anything until Nate was dabbing his face with something that stung way too much. "Ouch! Stop that!"

He was in the lobby of the inn. It was a big room with a large stone fireplace as its focal point, the registration stuff all more or less in an alcove in the back. He was getting one of the nice sofas dirty; Chris was beside him, hand on his shoulder. Yeah, he probably looked like he needed it.

"You tracking now, cowboy?" Chris asked.

He nodded.

"Does your head hurt?" asked Nathan.

"Everything else does. Didn't hit my head," he answered.

"I'm sorry, Vin. I know you wanted Vassiconelli to clear you some day."

"Wouldn't do me any good if I was dead," he said.

A few feet away, the rest of the guys were milling. Well, except for Buck, who Vin supposed had been detailed to watch the body and deal with the local PD. He wished that Chris would see what a great friend he had in Buck. If this was the life they were leading, they all needed each other...

His gaze fell on Blair Sandburg. He looked like hell. Like he wanted to cry. For Eli Joe?

Jim Ellison was taking Blair's elbow now, leading him to a bench, handing him a Coke. "Can I get a drink?" Vin asked.