Chapter 1
White Rock New Hampshire Police Chief Sam Mason studied the pile of resumes spread out on his antique oak desk. The steel-and-Naugahyde industrial chair he sat in let out a familiar squeak as he leaned back. The chair was a leftover from the post office that had once occupied the building where the police station now resided. The resumes were to replace one of Sam's officers, Tyler Richardson, who had been killed in the line of duty a month before.
A wave of guilt washed over Sam at the thought of replacing Tyler. He'd been a good officer who had been shot down when stopping to help a motorist. A random senseless act. Or was it?
Sam slid the middle drawer of his desk open. The sun's rays slanting in from the tall arched windows illuminated a small brass key with the number 317 stamped on top. The key looked just like the other keys in the drawer, but this particular key was no ordinary key. Sam and Sergeant Jody Harris had found it taped to the bottom of Tyler's desk after his death.
There was no concrete evidence that the key had been hidden there by Tyler. It could've been under the desk long before they'd moved in. The post office had left all their old furniture, and Sam and his crew had adopted it, leaving their flimsy desks and chairs back in the musty town hall basement they used to occupy. But Sam didn't think the key had been there when they'd moved in. Sam's gut told him that Tyler had hidden it there, which made him wonder if Tyler's death really was as random as it appeared.
Sam slid the key out. The metal was cold on his fingertips. He flipped it onto his palm and stared at it as if the key itself could clue him in to what exactly it would open. It was a small key, the kind that fit into a locker or post office box or safety deposit box, but Sam and Jo had searched every PO box, bus station locker, and bank in the area. None had been rented by Tyler. The box that the key unlocked and what was inside it remained as much of a mystery as the identity of Tyler's killer.
He tossed the key back into the drawer, his eyes drifting out over to the main street of town.
It was a typical New England town with a lush-green-grass common area and streets lined with brick and wooden buildings abundant with the fine architectural detail characteristic of the early 1900s. From Sam's desk, he could see a view of the mountains. The town was small, the area rural and filled with streams for fishing, mountains for hiking and skiing and fresh air. Sam loved White Rock and took his job as chief of police seriously. And, since he was responsible for the town's protection, he had to replace Tyler no matter what his personal feelings were. Tyler's death had left them understaffed, and an understaffed police force could hardly be effective in protecting its citizens.
His gaze fell back on the resumes, and he gathered them into a pile, revealing the worn surface of the desk. It was studded with staples and old circular inked post office date stamps. Apparently the previous occupants had used it for sorting mail. It was worn, but the honey-colored oak still glowed despite its age and neglect. Sam wouldn't dream of parting with it--it came in handy for spreading out his notes on the cases he was working. Right now, they had no cases, which made it even more important that he start contacting some of these applicants while he could spare the time to interview them.
Lucy, the German shepherd mix that was part of the new K-9 unit, shifted at his feet, and he leaned down, running his palm over her soft fur. Lucy had been a stray who had helped them solve a case. Now she officially worked with them full time during the day and came home with Sam at night. After years of living alone, he had to admit he enjoyed the company.
"Well, Lucy, what do you think? Do any of these candidates seem viable?" Sam asked.
Lucy whined.
"I don't really see any that stand out, either." Sam shuffled the resumes around and placed them onto the desk one at a time like a poker player laying out his cards.
"These two are a definite no." He pushed two resumes over to the corner, which left three. "I suppose I'll have to call these three in and talk to them. Might as well do it before we have any real cases to investigate."
Police work in northern New Hampshire towns consisted largely of feuding neighbors, lost animals, and fence disputes. Though, lately, there had been a large influx of drugs, and Sam had been battling the crimes that came along with that. He thought he had an idea of who was responsible for the drugs, but no solid evidence yet. An extra officer would be a big help. The department was small with just Sam, his sergeant and right-hand investigator Jody Harris, and a part-timer, Kevin Deckard. Once he filled Tyler's position, he'd have another full-timer on board.
He picked up one of the resumes. Gary Newport. Military service. Three years police experience in a neighboring town. He seemed like a good candidate, but somehow Sam couldn't get excited about it.
"Maybe I'll like him better if I talk to him in person. I guess I should have Reese start scheduling some interviews," Sam said to Lucy. Reese Hordon was the receptionist, town clerk, and dispatcher. She was attending the police academy at night and had hopes to join the police force, but until then, she eagerly did all the administrative work for the police department.
Lucy swished her tail back and forth.
Hiring someone would have its benefits. Sure, it would be a new person to train and get used to working with, but it would also leave him and Jo more time to look into what had really happened to Tyler. Finding time for that was problematic because the investigation wasn't exactly "official." Sam and Jo weren't even supposed to be looking into it--the state had already given up and had shoved the case onto the back burner even though the shooter was still at large. But Sam and Jo weren't going to sit still for that. Right now, they fit Tyler's investigation in between their other duties.
Tyler had been dedicated to his family and had lived with his mother to help with his disabled sister, Clarissa. Sam knew Tyler's entire paycheck went to Clarissa's medical bills. Not an easy thing for a twenty-eight-year-old young man to do. Sam could remember being that age twelve years ago, and the last place he would have wanted to live was with his mother. Sam had been married with two daughters at that age, but Tyler was single. Living with your mom when you were single could really cramp your style.
Sam figured he owed Tyler's mom, Irma, a visit to see how she was doing. So what if the real reason was to go through Tyler's things and see if he could find any kind of indication of what the key in his drawer might unlock.
He was thinking about the visit he and Jo had set up for later that day when a knock sounded on his door. Sam glanced up to see a shadow behind the textured glass window that sat in the upper half of the solid oak door. The door had also been original to the post office--only the gold-and-black stenciling on the door had been changed from Postmaster to Chief of Police.
"Come in." Sam welcomed the break from having to look at the resumes.
The door opened, and Jo popped her head in, her eyes falling on the stack of resumes and then up to meet Sam's. For a second, her wide gray eyes reflected Sam's own feelings. Guilt at replacing Tyler and determination to find out what had actually happened to him. And then she shifted into work mode.
"Got a call, Chief. Nancy Ritchie on Logging Road Number Four. She sounded frantic. Claims Bullwinkle just killed someone."
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