I’m in the process of hanging up when Mona buzzes me and lets me know my team has arrived. I hit the power button on my desktop to begin the lengthy process of booting up, then start for the conference room. Officer Chuck “Skid” Skidmore meets me in the hall. He’s about thirty years old, unmarried, and has a sense of humor most civilians don’t appreciate. He’s originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and had a promising career with the police department there—until he lost his job due to an off-duty DUI. I took him on, with the caveat that if I ever caught him drinking on the job, I’d fire him on the spot and do my utmost to make sure he never worked in law enforcement again. He’s been with the department for three years now and has never breached our agreement.

Eight months ago, he was shot during a sting I set up to catch a killer. He sustained a nonpenetrating head wound, which left him with a concussion and a gash that required stitches. Every now and then, we still rib him about the thickness of his skull, but he takes it in stride. What I like most about Skid is that while he might be one of my less personable officers, I know that if things get dicey, I can count on him to back me up.

“How was the trip?” I ask.

“About two days too long.”

“You were only gone two days.”

“Yeah.” He grins. “Thanks for covering for me, Chief.”

“Your parents doing okay?”

“They’re fine. Glad to see me, if you can imagine that.”

A deep male voice cuts in. “They were lying about being glad to see you, dude.”

Glock stops next to Skid. The two men shake hands and then Glock turns his attention to me. “This guy told you he was going to Michigan?”

“That’s a likely story,” Mona mutters as she squeezes past.

“He was probably down at the Brass Rail boozing it up,” Glock says with a grin. “I’d fire his ass.”

“Who’s getting fired?” comes a gravelly voice from behind us.