Stella laughed. “No. I don’t think I could get that requisition signed.”

“Damn.” He buttered a piece of toast, tore off a corner, and flipped it to the dog. Snoozer watched the food hit the floor, then shuffled over to eat it. “I might have to get creative.”

Stella finished her eggs and transferred her coffee into a travel mug. “I have to go. Thanks for the breakfast and the advice.”

“I love you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Be careful.”

Grandpa carried the empty dishes to the sink. The dog took his cue that no more food was available and trotted to his bed in the corner. He rested his head on his paws, and his eyelids drooped instantly.

“You, too.” She grabbed her briefcase. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Grandpa snorted. “I make no promises.”

Stella left the house bolstered by food and love. The roads were dark and empty on her way to the station. The sky was barely gray when she parked in front of the municipal building. With blue clapboard and red shutters, the structure was quaint-pretty on the outside, industrial-ugly on the inside. The police station occupied the entire first floor. Upstairs housed the various township tax and zoning offices.

In her cubicle, she draped her blazer over her chair, sat, and booted up the computer. She typed up her reports from the day before as the station bustled through shift change. Chief Horner was in his office by seven, and the administrative staff started at eight.

She’d barely finished her reports when Brody came in. All typical cop. Boring tie. Nondescript suit. Sharp brown eyes.

“I have something to tell you,” Stella said.

“It’ll have to wait. The chief wants to see us in his office,” he gestured to the door at the other end of the room.

Stella hurried to catch up. “I’ve been here for hours. He didn’t say anything to me.”

“He called me at home an hour ago.” Brody frowned as if the chief’s personal summons had been an unwelcome intrusion.

“How is Hannah?” Stella asked.

“It was a rough night. She didn’t sleep. Between losing her father and worrying about Mac . . .”

Obviously Brody hadn’t slept either.

“Please tell her . . .” She couldn’t articulate her empathy. “I lost my dad when I was fifteen. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will. Thanks.” Brody knocked on the chief’s door.

“Come in.” The command reverberated through the wood.

Brody opened the door and they went inside. Chief Dave Horner sat behind his tidy desk. As usual, his dark blue uniform was heavy on the starch. His hair was perfect.

Staring at Stella, the chief jabbed a finger on a closed file on his desk. “You were due at the range for pistol qualification yesterday.”

“Sorry. I’ve been tied up with cases, and it totally slipped my mind,” she lied.