Behind the counter was a small woman, lean as a whippet, with short brunette hair. She smiled. “I haven’t seen you in years, but you’re Mako’s Gabriel. It’s good to see you again. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

After a minute, Gabe recalled her name from the time a couple of years before when he’d visited Rescue with Mako. “Sarah. Yes, coffee would be good.” Odd how difficult it was to be around people after months of isolation. “Drip and black, please.”

She prepared a cup and handed it over, then spotted his badge. Her smile widened. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Caz warned us that you weren’t too enthusiastic about returning to civilization.”

Damn Caz. “I’ve found that honest people are scarcer than rattlesnakes in Alaska, but it’s not a—”

“We don’t have rattlesnakes in Alaska.”

“Exactly.”

Not taking offense, she laughed. “I hope our Rescue citizens will change your mind. I know Mako wanted you here. He knew how much we need you.”

Did he? Mako’d sure been more involved with the town than he’d told them. Since when had the survivalist loner concerned himself with anything other than an impending apocalypse? “Bull mentioned there are anti-tourism sentiments?”

“Oh, yes. We have…” Her voice trailed off as a clean-shaven, spare-framed male entered. Probably late forties. Average height. Light brown hair.

Armed.

Gabe tensed, then relaxed again. The man was a civilian, not an insurgent. Jesus, he’d forgotten that open carry of firearms was allowed in Alaska.

Sarah’s voice cooled. “Good morning, Reverend Parrish. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a latte.” The man had a Texas drawl.

“Coming right up.” Sarah turned a warm smile on Gabe. “I look forward to talking with you more at a later time. Welcome to Rescue, Chief.”

Chief. Gabe froze for a second. Chief of Police. God help him. “Thanks.”

When Gabe nodded at Parrish, the man tore his gaze away from the badge on Gabe’s jacket. Mouth flattening, he nodded back.

Something told Gabe they weren’t going to be bosom buddies.

In no hurry, Gabe strolled the business section of Main Street—two blocks—reached the end, and headed back on the other side.

It’d take a while to get his footing here. Get to know the place. When visiting Mako, he’d only come into town to pick up groceries.

But police work was police work, no matter the size of the town.

He was a retired SEAL, had been a police lieutenant in Los Angeles, and even led a merc squad. He could deal with paperwork. Didn’t mean he looked forward to managing an entire station’s budget.

He glanced at the store he was passing, saw it was Dante’s Market, and entered. The owner was a Vietnam vet and the reason why the sarge had chosen Rescue as a place to live.