That described most of southern Tasmania, Sawyer reasoned. “Population?”
Hadeom gave a non-committal shrug. “No one really knows. Last census said twenty-two, but?—”
“Twenty-two? Twenty-twohundred? Or two-two full stop?”
Jesus Christ.
It was twenty-two.
“And a town that small requires a manned station?” Sawyer asked. “Why doesn’t it fall under Strahan’s jurisdiction?”
“This town is...” Hadeom made a face as if he couldn’t quite settle on the word he was after. “Different.”
Different.
“Different, how?” Then it occurred to him.... The man who shimmered. Sawyer being good with weird shit and people who had nonhuman eyes. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. “Oh.”
Hadeom smiled at Sawyer as if it pleased him that Sawyer had clued in without him having to spell it out.
“Do you need time to think about it?” Hadeom asked.
Sawyer knew all too well that he would be missed in this precinct about as much as he’d miss it in return. He thought about his shitty little apartment, his dreary existence in a police department he had no friends in.
He had no friends in Hobart at all.
He worked all the overtime he could for an early retirement.
He had a job that he wore like a cloak of burden. He’d become a cop with dreams of helping and instead found nothing but bullying and bullshit. He dreamed of a life after his time as a cop was over. He’d find a quiet little town, far removed from this life, where he could finally be happy.
And maybe, just maybe, find a guy he could be happy with.
At least that’s what he’d told himself.
“You said a pay rise?” Sawyer asked.
Hadeom grinned. “Give me five years, and I’ll give you double what you’re earning now and a free pass to a full retirement.”
Five years.
Five years, house and vehicle included, in a town with nowhere to spend a dime that surely had some great fishing spots. A five-year retirement plan, with not a coworker in sight.
He could deal with a little bit of weird for that, right?
“When do I start?”
Chapter
Two
CIARAN BRENNER
Ciaran pulledhimself up out of the water onto the jetty in a fluid, too-easy movement, water running down his muscular torso in icy rivulets, the cold wind whipping around him.
He loved the cold.
It was invigorating.
Necessary.
