And if he gives you cause to build it, Will thought but didn't say, I'll hunt him down and send him to hell my own self. He'd fucked up last time. Listened to her plan and let her take it onto her own shoulders, thinking it'd give her some security to know there was a contingency in place, thinking that maybe a last-resort contingency wasn't so bad an idea if the Sheriff kept trying to catch them alone and knife them. He'd been wrong, so wrong, and instead he'd watched the guilt and hopelessness eat her alive, and not again. He wasn't letting it happen again. The Sheriff had hurt her enough for a hundred lifetimes.
And anyroad, Robin was right. It was different this time. Then, the Sheriff had been an unstoppable, implacable force, stalking them, making them jump at their own shadows. Now— even if he wasn't half as helpless as he was making out, he was their hostage. The conversation wasn't how to stop him, it was how to dispose of him. And this time, Rob was the one helming it. He could do what Will couldn't, rein everyone in when conversation devolved into argument and get them all to fall in behind the decision once it was made.
Art had raised a hand. "I mean, you ask me, a prison don't sound like half a bad idea. Just my two penn'orth."