I’ve been diligent about birth control. I started taking the pill a few weeks before I moved in with Tomasetti. But as desperately as I want to believe I couldn’t possibly be pregnant, there were two or three times in the last few months when I was lax. Once, I got busy and let my prescription run out for two days. The other time I worked around the clock on a crazy case, didn’t make it home, and ended up skipping three days.

Tomasetti and I haven’t discussed children. We haven’t even discussed marriage. Neither of us is ready for that kind of commitment. We’re certainly not ready for a family. Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought. Yes, there are times when I’m aware of my biological clock ticking—I’ll be thirty-four years old this year. Still, the thought of bringing a baby into the world at this point in my life terrifies me.

Sighing, I put my face in my hands and close my eyes. “What the hell have you done?” I mutter between my fingers.

“Chief?”

I startle and look up to see my second-shift officer, “Skid,” standing in my office doorway. I clear my throat. “Hey.”

He grins. “Long day?”

“I guess you could put it that way.” I smile, trying not to be embarrassed. “Help me with the generator?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Coolheaded and experienced, Skid is a solid police officer. But he’s not without flaws—nor is he without career problems. Originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, he was fired from the police department there for an alcohol-related offense. I hired him shortly after becoming chief here in Painters Mill, and so far it’s been smooth sailing. He brings a high level of experience to the job, a laid-back demeanor to the occasional dicey situation, and a wicked sense of humor I probably appreciate more than I should.

We cross the reception area and go through the front door. “I heard about those bones out on Gellerman Road,” he says as we unload the generator. “You guys figure out who they belong to?”

“Not yet.” I tell him about the six missing person cases in Holmes County. “The forensic anthropologist, Doc Coblentz, and another coroner from Lucas County are going to take a look at the remains first thing in the morning. If we’re lucky, they’ll get DNA.”

I hold the door while he rolls the generator inside. “How’s your shift going?”

“There’re still a lot of people without power, but everyone’s behaving themselves. Red Cross is going to be handing out hot meals and water again tomorrow.” He grimaces. “I heard you had some trouble out there today with Paula Kester.”

“Not my best moment.” I let the door close behind us and motion toward the hall. “Let’s roll it down to the basement.”

He nods. “I had a run-in with her husband a couple of years back, and let me tell you, Nick Kester’s a loose cannon.”

“He’s got a record?”

“Felony assault and possession,” he tells me. “Those are the only two convictions I remember off the top of my head. But that guy has a temper. If those two are still together, you might want to keep an eye on him. He likes his meth, hates cops, and he’s got a screw loose to boot.”