Page 4 of Mountain Man

“Yep, you pulled him over for speeding on Belvedere,” Petey reported. “What was his name again?”

“Gibbons, Waylon,” Nancy piped in. “Date of birth⁠—”

“Got it.”

Nancy returned to her post in dispatch with a huff, but Shawna didn’t bother hiding her curiosity.

“What’s he like?” she asked. “I’ve been dying to meet him!”

I should have walked away. I knew better than to engage in water cooler gossip with my staff.

Sidenote: In addition to being the gatekeeper at the station, Shawna was a close friend of my sister, Layla. I’d known her since she was a little kid on a pink bicycle with a white basket and sparkly tassels. Like Layla, Shawna was nine years younger than me, and I couldn’t help but feel a little protective of her.

Which was ridiculous. Shawna was a capable compact woman in her thirties with wavy brown hair and a contagious smile who taught self-defense classes in her spare time. If I remembered correctly, she was working on her fifth-degree black belt in karate.

“Why?”

Shawna rolled her eyes. “ ’Cause he’s hot and single…or so I heard.”

Petey scoffed. “My cousin Artie is a manager at the Depot, and he says Gibbons is a crusty SOB. Thing is…he’s a mountain man, not a forester. They’re a different beast.”

“Are they?” Shawna made a face.

“Cooper knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t have hired the guy if he wasn’t qualified for the job,” I remarked as if I didn’t have calls to make, emails to respond to, and four towns to police.

“I’m not saying he’s incompetent,” Petey countered, peering into the pink box. “He just has a reputation for being standoffish. Plenty of folks keep to themselves, but they usually have jobs that don’t require conversation. Like loggers. But at the Depot? I dunno, I think you have to be a bit friendlier, ya know?”

Petey settled on a maple bar and returned to his seat, chomping into it with barely disguised glee.

“He’s new,” Shawna huffed. “Give him a break. Did he seem nice to you, Chief?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Of course he was nice to the police, for criminy sake. That doesn’t mean anything,” Petey argued, standing abruptly as Nancy alerted him to a stranded motorist situation near Black Horse Inn.

“It means he’s not an idiot,” Shawna insisted. “It means he’s⁠—”

“Save it.” I put a hand up and motioned for Petey to get moving. “Tell Ray to meet you there. I don’t want Elmwood getting fussy about Wood Hollow homing in on their action.”

“Yes, sir.” He grabbed his mocha and a second donut for the road before heading out the door.

Shawna opened her mouth as if to continue her defense of Waylon Gibbons but was interrupted by an incoming call. I took the cue and turned to my office.

“Yes, Mrs. La Rue. He’s here. I’ll tell him right away. Yes, I know. Don’t worry.” Shawna widened her eyes as she disconnected the call. “That was your mom. It happened again.”

“Shit. Where is he?”

“She says that he thinks someone changed the signs on Willow Street, so…maybe on the next block? That would be Chestnut or Brook or⁠—”

“Got it.” I nodded curtly, took my rover, and hurried to the police SUV sitting at the curb.

I didn’t bother with lights or a siren. The streets were somewhat mellow this morning, and Willow wasn’t far. I raced down Main, made a sharp right on Brook, and sighed with relief at the sight of the old man with his hands on his slim hips scowling at the street sign.

I parked at the curb and out of habit, slipped a hand to where I sometimes kept my weapon. As chief, I spent more time behind a desk than in the field, so I didn’t usually carry one anymore. That was okay. I wouldn’t be needing it for this.

No, unfortunately, I needed something I didn’t quite have a grasp on yet.

“Hi, there.”