When Julie made a smothered sound of laughter, Gabe grinned and set to work.

A couple of minutes later, the rumble of a bad muffler made him glance over his shoulder. A battered red pickup pulled up to the curb, and two men in their late twenties climbed out of the truck.

With bushy red hair and a drooping mustache, the lanky driver stared at Gabe’s black & white. “Chevy, that ain’t no state trooper rig.”

“Says Rescue Police. Since when do we have cop cars in town?” Chevy scowled. The short man was so bulky with muscles his neck almost disappeared into his shoulders.

“Gabriel, meet Knox and Chevy. They’re doing the garden work that Julie and I can’t manage. Men, this is our new Chief of Police, Chief MacNair.” Lillian motioned toward Gabe.

Gabe turned far enough to nod at the two. “Afternoon.”

No answer. Just irritated stares.

Oh well. As the lock released, Gabe pushed the door open and rose.

Julie smiled. “Where did you learn to pick locks? I wouldn’t have thought they’d teach that in a police academy.”

Depending on the specialty, they did. However, he’d already known how. “No, my grandfather was a locksmith in LA. As a kid, I’d go with him on calls.”

“City boy, born and bred,” Chevy said to Knox. His voice was lowered…not far enough. “What’s a damn LA cop doing here?”

Gabe blinked and almost laughed. Apparently, Chevy had heard Gabe was a cop in Los Angeles. Now, he knew Gabe’d been a boy in LA. Two and two added up to a wrong conclusion because Gabe’d spent all the intervening years in Alaska. Same mistake Baumer had made. He considered telling them the truth.

Nah.

“We don’t need some city pig poking into our business.” Chevy’s aggressive attitude made Gabe think of the sarge’s maxim that a short man could be as proddy as a moose in rut.

Probably not a saying to share right now. And giving Chevy a lesson in manners… Well, Mako hadn’t approved of violence in front of women. Although Lillian probably wouldn’t bat an eye, Gabe had a feeling Julie had seen far too much violence already.

Ignoring the two men, Gabe stowed his lock kit away.

“Chief, do you know when the health clinic is due to open?” Lillian asked.

Pulling gardening tools from the pickup, Knox turned his head to catch Gabe’s answer.

“A couple of weeks. The building needs to hire a receptionist. The clinic didn’t want to open without one.”

“Makin’ all sorts of changes, aren’t you,” Knox butted in.

“Actually,” Gabe kept his voice polite, “a shared receptionist isn’t a change. It’s the way things worked prior to the closing of the services. Before your time.” As the ginger’s face turned dark red, Gabe knew the last part hadn’t been the most diplomatic.