“Got a story for you,” he whispers as he sits. “Rockton policing life at its finest.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I realize everyone at the table noticed the interplay with Diana.

“You’ve met Diana, right?” I say, and as the words leave my mouth, I want to kick myself.

Diana looks as if she wants to drop through the floor. Anders just smiles at her and says, “Sure, we’ve met.” There’s a snicker from someone farther down the table, and as genuine as Anders’s smile seems, I detect a bit of distance in his eyes. That’s when I realize it’s no secret Diana has her eye on Anders. She’s let him—and everyone else—know … and he’s made it clear he isn’t interested.

Shit.

“Hey, Di,” I say, leaning forward. “You want to go for a walk?” I lift my shot glass. “I’ve hit my limit, and I could use the air.”

Yes, it’s an awkward excuse, but I’m desperate to fix this. She only gives me a cool look and says, “I just started my drink.”

Anders takes a long gulp of his beer. “Give me a minute and I’ll walk with you.”

“No!” I say, a little too sharply, and Petra gives a sympathetic chuckle.

“We should both turn in soon,” Anders says. “Eric will give me proper shit if you so much as yawn tomorrow. I’ll walk you home and tell you that story.”

And there it is. A good evening shot to hell, and Diana glowers at me like it’s my fault. I want to take her outside and set her straight. But that won’t change the fact that she’s hurt, and the more I try to fix it, the more humiliated she’ll be. So I go back to talking to Petra, who picks up where we left off. Anders joins us as he finishes his beer, and then we leave.

“You doing okay?” Anders asks when we’re outside.

“Sure.”

He glances over as we head into the street. “You seemed to be having a good time when I got there. Did I …?” He clears his throat. “I mean, I realized afterward that I probably shouldn’t have just waltzed in and pulled up a chair and started talking like you’d been waiting for me.”

“You didn’t.”

He walks a few feet in silence, before checking my expression and nodding. “Okay. I just … It got a little awkward.”

“No, nothing like that. So what was the story you wanted to tell me?”

“Story …?” It takes him a second, then he shakes his head. “Yeah, idiot, the reason you waltzed in there and barged into the conversation. Before I get talking—because God knows, once I start, I don’t stop—do you want to go straight home? Or walk a bit, so I can add to the grand welcoming tour the boss took you on yesterday.”

“Uh …”

“What? You didn’t get the tour? I did.” He points down the moonlit street. “Police station, general store, restaurants, lumberyard, and bar. No, wait, it was more like: Bar’s over there, and if I fucking catch you ever staggering out of there, dead-ass drunk, you’ll be drying out in the cell all night.”

I give a soft laugh, and he smiles over.

“Proper tour, then?” he says. He motions at the moon. “We’ve got enough light for it.”

“I would love a tour, but do I still get the story?”

“Of course. Can’t forget the story, since it was so damned important.”

We start walking and he says, “You missed your first chance at a grizzly sighting tonight. Right on the edge of town.”

“What?” I look at him. “Dalton said they don’t—”

“—usually come this close. Always note the usually, Casey. So someone reported seeing a bear rubbing against a tree, scratching its back and grunting. I grab the rifle and every militia guy I pass on my run across town. I’m creeping up on the spot with Kenny and a couple of the others at my back. And there’s the beast. It looks a little small—maybe six foot. Wide enough for a bear, though. Definitely rubbing up against that tree with plenty of grunting. Then I see it’s got four legs, four arms, and is wearing clothing. Well, some clothing.”

“Ah, the elusive beast with two backs.”

“Not nearly so elusive around here. Yep, so that was our bear. A couple who tried to sneak twenty feet into the woods for a little privacy … and found themselves with an audience who’ll be spreading the story for days. They’ll also be slapped with chopping duty for being outside the boundary.”

“Chopping duty?”

He glances over. “Man, Eric really didn’t tell you anything, did he? It’s the main form of punishment here. We can’t keep anyone in the cell for long and we can’t impose too-strict fines—or they won’t be able to buy food. So we do what they did in Dawson City during the gold rush: sentence folks to chopping wood for the municipal buildings.”

“Smart.”

“Especially in winter, when we need a lotta wood. Now, if you look to your left, you’ll see the lumber shed and chopping circle just past those buildings, which are …”

We continue down the street and he carries on with the tour.

The next morning: more searching for Hastings. At noon, Dalton decides it’s time to scale back. The militia will stay on it, led by Anders. The sheriff will return to dealing with the local law enforcement issues that have piled up in the last forty-eight hours. I’ll get to work on the Powys case.