toward the riverbank with their rods in hand. Piper caught her breath when she recognized Josh’s stride. He walked like his father. In the twelve years Roth had been out of her life, she’d forgotten his walk—it was one of the few details she’d been able to wipe from her mind. Until now.
Her father put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Listen up, Josh, starting tomorrow my deputies will be adjusting to the new chief and learning his ways. Don’t know how he feels about ’em giving civilians a ride. So take the bus home from school. Don’t be hitchin’ a ride, ya hear?”
“I hate the bus. And why do we have to have a new chief?”
“’Cuz I’m not one hundred percent healed yet. And Quincey needs someone to run the department until I am.”
“You don’t like being retired?”
“It’s like summer vacation. You know how you get bored by the end? I can’t fish every day. There are more important matters to tend to, an’ I can’t do ’em sitting in my recliner.”
Piper heard the frustration in his voice that his reassuring smile couldn’t hide, and her heart ached for him. No matter how furious she was, she didn’t wish him ill. And yes, she supposed a part of her still loved him and wanted the old chief back.
She especially wanted the new chief gone. The sooner the better. She just didn’t know how to convince Roth there was nothing here for him now.
But if there was a way, she’d find it. And she needed to do it soon.
* * *
ROTH STOOD OUTSIDE the squat brick building housing the Quincey P.D. early Monday morning, eager to get this show on the road. The sooner he took control and assessed his officers the sooner he’d know who he could trust—and who he couldn’t.
Quincey’s mayor climbed from his Tahoe and joined Roth on the sidewalk.
“Snodgrass, you might have warned me that you’d forced Chief Hamilton to resign.”
“Former Chief Hamilton has been a figurehead since his stroke. He’s been unable to perform his duties, and his prolonged visits to the station keep the deputies who sit on their behinds entertaining him from doing theirs. The council’s decision was the best one for Quincey.”
Two of the town council members joined them, then shadowed them on their trek up the sidewalk. The mayor paused outside the door. “We’ve had an increase in petty crime of late, primarily vandalism and some spray painting.”
“Gangs?”
“Doubtful. It’s not gang signs. But if the officers are here playing cards with the former chief, they are not out looking for our troublemakers.”
“You are aware that I was once one of Quincey’s troublemakers.”
Snodgrass’s expression turned wily. “That should give you an advantage in ferreting out ours.”
“Still, I would have appreciated a heads-up about the hostility.”
“You’re a Marine. You can handle hostile natives, can’t you?”
Oohrah. “Absolutely.”
“And it is only the natives who will require…let’s call it an adjustment period. The newer citizens aren’t as backwoods or close-minded.”
Had the man read his résumé? “I am one of the backwoods natives.”
“You were. We are hoping your combination of native know-how and military and police experience will have widened your view and will help us run things more efficiently. Quincey’s police force has become…complacent.
“As for your deputies, the only one to watch is Butch White. He has seniority and has been acting unofficially as interim chief. He wanted this job and was convinced he was entitled to it.”
Snodgrass nodded and one of his minions jumped to open the door, then the mayor motioned for Roth to precede him. The trio of new blood followed Roth in like fish in a school.
“Good morning.” Roth greeted his deputies, and like Thursday when he’d dropped by to introduce himself and pick up his uniforms, the happy-to-meet-you vibes were noticeably absent.
Jones, the lone female, and Morris muttered replies. White and Aycock remained mute. Roth drilled Aycock with what one of Roth’s boot camp drill instructors had called the “dead stare.”
Aycock folded. “Morning. Sir.”
Roth locked gazes with White. The older man’s expression turned obstinate. Why had he been passed over for promotion? He’d been with the department since Roth’s time in Quincey. Roth could easily ask around, but he’d learned a long time ago to distrust gossip. He would have to watch White and figure out what his issues were.
Snodgrass cleared his throat. “Deputy White, would you retrieve the chief’s badge and gun and the appropriate forms, please?”
White’s surly attitude and snail’s pace as he fetched the items from a glass-enclosed office—Roth’s new office—confirmed his passive-aggressive resistance. He returned and slammed the items on the scarred desk in front of Snodgrass.
Roth picked up the pistol and checked the chamber and clip. “HK. Nice weapon and able to withstand abuse.” Like being slammed into a solid surface.
The mayor nodded. “We upgraded our weapons last year. The HK 9mm is supposed to be what European officers carry. Deputy White, as the senior officer present, you may have the honor of swearing in the new chief.”
White folded his beefy arms. “You’re the mayor. You carry more clout in this town. You do it.”
Oh, yeah, Roth and his second-in-command would have to work out their differences. White wouldn’t like taking orders from a man twenty-plus years his junior. But doling out discipline was a skill Roth had mastered in the Corps. He could handle anything the deputy tossed at him.
The mayor offered a Bible. Roth experienced a slight twinge of conscience when he rested his hand on the book and repeated the oath, knowing he’d be counting the days until he could surrender his badge.
Then it was done. Roth was committed to protect the town that had done nothing to protect him or his mother. But he’d survived worse.
He pinned his badge to his blue uniform shirt and holstered the gun. The mayor offered him a pen. Chest tightening, Roth slashed his signature on the contract’s relevant lines.
Snodgrass pointed to the last form. “This one needs a witness. Who—”
“Deputy White will be my witness,” Roth commanded, and challenged the man to decline. Refusing a direct order from his superior would be grounds for dismissal.
White got the message and after a noticeable hesitation he scratched illegibly across the form. His scowl made it clear he considered the battle lines drawn.
The deputy would learn quickly that this Marine didn’t retreat just because the job looked tough.
CHAPTER
