The worst part of being chief of police was all the paperwork, Tess decided as she yawned over the pile of work she’d brought home with her. Clearly, she’d violated her own rule #11: “EOW is EOW—leave work at work.” As a beat cop, when she needed to document every little thing, often the paperwork was overwhelming. Now the need to document had multiplied for Tess as she had to review not only her day but everyone else’s as well.

It was late when she finished and laid down her pen. She stood and stretched, considering watching some TV but immediately dismissing the idea. She was tired; time for bed. A knock on the door woke her up. No one she knew ever called this late, and she was on alert.

From a side table she grabbed her .380, an off-duty weapon that she liked to keep handy. After all, a man had been murdered on her porch not too long ago, so Tess felt her caution was justified.

She approached the side of the door, flipped on the porch light. “Who is it?”

“It’s Livie Harp.”

Tess recognized the voice, but shock replaced her caution. Peering through the curtain, she saw that it was, indeed, the mystery woman. She opened the door.

“Sorry for the surprise visit, but I wanted to talk to you privately. This seemed like the best time and place.”

For a second Tess wasn’t sure what to say. She swallowed and stepped aside. “Well, okay then. Come on in.”

Harp entered. She was dressed all in black; from her cargo pants and mock turtleneck sweater to the gloves and boots, she reminded Tess of a commando.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’ve come to offer you my help.” She fixed a steely gaze on Tess.

Tess motioned for her to have a seat. “What do you think I need help with?”

“I’ll stand.” Harp glared at Tess, or right through her, Tess thought. She was wound up, and Tess didn’t have to wait long to find out why. “I know you’re sheltering a human trafficking victim.”

Tess held her tongue and refused to be shaken. After the incident at the market, why should she be? Earlier she’d already imagined that everyone now knew where Chevy was.

She cleared her throat. “What do you mean, me personally?”

Irritation washed across Harp’s features. “I’m not stupid, Chief. And I won’t beat around the bush. I know about Faith’s Place. I’m glad the house exists, but it’s not a secret. And I’ve been following the recent news stories about the arrest of Cyrus Beck. When I heard there was a witness, I went out of my way to try and find her, in order to make certain she was safe.”

“If you’re here because of what happened at the market today—”