Gabe grinned. That’s when they’d discovered that Mako had dug out the root cellars beneath each cabin, creating one long tunnel tying each house together. In case of war. As Gabe drove down the tiny gravel road, he shook his head fondly. The sarge’d been one paranoid bastard.

At the intersection of Lake Road and Swan Avenue, he slowed as he passed Dante’s rentals.

The lights were on in Julie’s place.

Dammit. When he’d driven Julie home last night, he’d figured on getting her keys so he could fetch her car from the bar. So much for good intentions.

After opening the police station and making coffee, he checked the log. Officer Baumer had taken witness reports from the people in the bar, but hadn’t located the asshole who’d slapped Julie. It seemed the man had left town.

Gabe growled.

Nothing particularly interesting in the log.

One moose killed by a truck. Baumer had called the Alaska Moose Federation to deliver it to the next name on the list. Someone would have plenty of meat this year.

A drunk had joined a bunch of toms serenading a female cat in heat. Apparently, the nearest neighbor had been unimpressed with the music. Maybe there should be an infraction called drunk and discordant as well as drunk and disorderly.

Baumer had written that a few unhappy customers created a ruckus when Bull closed the bar at 2 a.m. By Alaska law, the place could remain open until 5 a.m. Fat chance. Gabe grinned. His brother liked sleep too much to stay open into the morning hours.

Staccato loud noises brought Gabe to his feet, heart pounding. Gripping his pistol butt, he scanned the room. Wait, no, it wasn’t gunfire.

Someone was pounding on the back door. “Gabe, you in here?”

Stand down. Gabe exhaled, long and slow, and went to open the door.

“Hey, boy.” Dante strolled in followed by two teenage boys carrying a long crate. The man pointed to the center of the bullpen. “Put it on the floor there and fetch the rest.”

After the kids brought in several more crates, Dante passed them some money and shooed them out. He told Gabe, “I was here when the station closed down and took charge of the contents. I figured you might want these back.”

Gabe leaned against a desk and eyed the boxes. They were the right size for… “The armory?”

“Yep.”

As they pulled off the lids, a variety of weaponry and ammunition was revealed. Handguns, rifles, shotguns.

Dante pointed to two 12-gauge shotguns and two AR-15 rifles. “Those were department issue. The officers used their own personal handguns—they won’t be here. All the rest is shit the department confiscated over the years.”