The new lead sent a glimmer of hope pulsing throughout the station. Charlie planned to drive into Savannah tomorrow to meet with Annika Benedict, the owner of the Bohemian Signature Gallery.

“I have a sleeping bag in my trunk.”

Charlie looked up from his notes to find Deputy Cecilia Benningfield staring down at him. “What?”

“Your shift ended two hours ago. I have my grandson’s sleeping bag in my car if you’re planning on being here all night.”

Benningfield was kindly regarded as the den mother of the station. She came in early to make sure coffee was made and kept it hot all day long, and she never forgot a birthday.

“No, that’s okay. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Sheriff is a stickler about overtime . . .” Benningfield’s benevolent face creased in thought. “I suppose he’d allow it now, under the circumstances.”

“Oh, I don’t need the overtime.” He glanced down at his notes again. “Just making sure I’m not missing anything.”

“Don’t worry. In all my years here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a new deputy as eager as you.”

“What about Frost?”

“Ha!” Benningfield’s laughter echoed in the quiet station. “That boy’s eager all right, but it’s just youthful pride. You’re out to prove something. But remember, this is a job like any other. At the end of the day, you gotta go home to somebody. Hopefully, in your case, a nice young lady.”

Charlie couldn’t stop his thoughts from going to Lane. What it would be like to go home to her and Noah after a long night. Benningfield was smiling at him like she could read his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “No. No girl. Just an insane dog who probably thinks I’m AWOL and has taken over the house.”

“A dog is as good a reason as any to call it a day, but I hope you’ll find as great a purpose to invest your time in out there as you do in here.”

Deputy Benningfield’s remarks followed Charlie from the office. Inhaling a deep breath of the country air, he watched streaks of orange melt into soft peach across the sky as the sun began to set. A greater purpose? That’s what he’d come to Walton to find, right? And what greater purpose was there than finding out who killed Sydney Donovan? Even his dad would have to agree that bringing a killer to justice was a purpose worthy of leaving the Marines.

But first he needed to rescue his home from the Terror Terrier.

Charlie found Bane rebounding between the front and back doors. By the time Charlie changed out of his uniform, the dog was certifiably manic. “Okay, bud. Leash first.”

Bane’s harness did nothing to stop him from dashing between Charlie’s legs and lunging out the door as soon as it opened. “Bane!”