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I inclined my head. “Yep. Some year round, but quite a few come for a couple of weeks in summertime, like you. They even play in the flag football league with the locals.”

Emmett’s jaw fell open cartoon-style. “For real?”

“For real.”

“I thought I saw one, but I wasn’t sure.”

“You probably did. If you’re able to, you should come by the end of summer tournament. I heard that Dex hired a deejay again, and they’re doing booths with games and prizes. A little something fun before school starts.”

Emmett squealed…loudly. “Can we go, Uncle Way? Grandma and Grandpa won’t care if I stay longer. Please, please, please!”

“We’ll see. Put that seat belt on, Em, and say good-bye.”

“Bye, Mr. Policeman!”

“Thanks, Chief.”

I tipped my chin and winked. “Anytime. And hey, watch that speedometer, Mr. Gibbons. Next time, I might not be so nice.”

Waylon delivered a dead-eye stare that made me chuckle, mainly because I couldn’t tell if wise guy sarcasm was his default or if he was a real dick.

Either way, I was intrigued.

The coffee at the station was notoriously awful. It was an ongoing joke that Shawna bothered brewing it at all.

“It’s tradition,” she explained. “I can’t throw away the old pot for fear of inciting a riot. Some of our peeps love the sludge. It hardly makes a difference since we end up buying midmorning lattes at Rise and Grind anyway. Not to worry, I bought the real stuff. Oh, and I picked up donuts, too.”

“Sweet! You’re a godsend. Thanks, Shawna.”

“You’re very welcome.” She set a pink bakery box next to the old coffeemaker, then handed to-go cups to Petey and Nancy. “Cheers, Chief.”

I lifted my cup and took a sip while Petey studiously poured three packets of sugar into his mocha, same as he did every day.

“What?” He shrugged. “Tastes better this way.”

“Mmhmm. What happened with that bear sighting in Fallbrook?” I asked.

“I sent the wildlife patrol to investigate. They came across a couple of foxes and a coyote, who was most likely hunting those foxes. I’m sure he didn’t take kindly to the interruption, but⁠—”

“He? What makes you think it was a male coyote? Women hunt too, you know,” Nancy growled in her smoke-raspy voice.

“Amen, sister.” Shawna held her hand out for a high five, snickering at Nancy’s furrowed brow.

Nancy was a fiftysomething department lifer who’d worked with my dad at the tail end of his career. She’d been the lone female officer on the force for years, a pioneer of sorts who’d carved a place for herself in a male-dominated field—first as a policewoman and now as our head of dispatch.

Nancy was a lean, chain-smoking redhead with a raunchy sense of humor—something she shared with Shawna. However, she didn’t always play nicely with newcomers. Sure, Shawna had been our front desk administrator at the Wood Hollow Police Station for three years—however, knowing Nancy, it would take another ten years till she considered Shawna an ally.

Thankfully, Shawna wasn’t easily offended.

I sipped my latte as I sauntered to the hallway leading to my office. The station had undergone an extensive remodel a few years ago thanks to a combination of taxpayer money and a large grant from the new mill owner, Hank Cunningham. The result was a state-of-the-art, modern open space for processing, a visitor section, a kitchenette, two interview rooms, a hall of records, an armory, an evidence storage unit, a large conference room, private offices for the deputy and myself, and a damn nice cell.

The glass-and-steel building was trimmed with wood forested locally, as if to appease the naysayers and the crusty old guard—including my father—who hadn’t been happy about changing the log cabin vibe of the original station. To be honest, it was bigger than we really needed, but it was befitting of the chief of police for the Four Forest area and since that was me, I couldn’t complain.

“You know where to find me,” I called on the way to my office.

“You have a meeting with Elmwood’s mayor at eleven, and Hank wants to talk to you about an ordinance issue. They need somewhere to store the lumber, and apparently Gallagher has been parking his motor home where he shouldn’t. He almost got into it with the new manager running the lumberyard at Mill Depot.” Shawna quirked a perfectly arched brow and cocked her head. “Didn’t you meet him yesterday?”

I paused. Yeah, I remembered Waylon. And I was a little concerned about the sudden rev of my pulse at the mere mention of the guy. I decided to play it cool with a nonchalant, “Did I?”