Page 6 of Psycho

Up ahead, I spotted the Juniper Creek Fire Department—a large, old-fashioned building, with a rust-red brick facade, and the foundation date etched into a cornerstone, 1901. The bay doors were open, with firefighters milling around, washing the trucks.

That’s what they were supposed to be doing anyway.

Instead, they were dousing each other with the hoses, or pelting each other with soapy sponges.

I waited on the corner, out of sight, until Chief Barrett Kent came striding into view.

“Quit messing around and get back to work,” he barked. “I want to see these trucks polished to a shine within the hour.”

The firefighters returned to their task, while Barrett surveyed them for a minute or two. Then he came striding toward me, taking my elbow and leading me around the corner.

“You’re kind of a hardass,” I said with amusement.

He huffed.

“I’m the Chief. That’s part of my job description. Now, what did I tell you about snooping around?”

I sighed and fiddled with the sleeves of my jacket, tugging them down over my hands.

“I’m being careful.”

“That’s not the point, Bobbie.”

He grumbled and flicked a white envelope from his back pocket, holding it out to me. When I reached for it, he snatched it away.

“You should leave Huxley to the police. Do you have some connection to him? Are you worried he might come after you?”

I shook my head, my gaze locked on that envelope in his hand.

During my first winter in Juniper Creek, I didn’t have my car yet, and the local homeless shelter was full. So, I slept where I could—on park benches, in an abandoned campground, squatting in empty houses. Barrett found me huddled in a ratty sleeping bag under a bridge, half frozen. He brought me back to the fire station, getting me warm again with cups of hot cocoa.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t dream of dragging Barrett into this. I owed him too much already after everything he’d done for me.

But he had ties I could use, and information I needed.

“No, not me,” I replied. “A friend.”

When I found out that Arrow was a member of The Reckless Order MC, I went digging for every morsel of news that I could get my hands on, everything I had missed after we lost touch years ago.

That’s how I found out the history between Huxley and Arrow. And now that Huxley had escaped prison, there was no way I would sit around, twiddling my thumbs, when he had Arrow in his crosshairs.

Barrett pressed his lips together with disapproval, tapping the envelope against his palm. I raised my eyebrows, waiting.

“The fire station is hiring,” he said. “We’re looking for an office assistant. Someone who can keep everything organized. It would put cash in your pocket and a roof over your head.”

“Thanks, but I already have a job.”

Barrett shot me a withering look. He clearly didn’t buy that.

But it wasn’t a lie. I worked odd jobs here and there. Mostly part-time gigs that were willing to pay me under the table. And since they were temporary, I didn't have to stick around for long. It was easier that way—less pressure and fewer expectations.

“I appreciate the offer,” I added. “It’s just…I feel like a wild animal when I’m chained to a desk. It doesn’t take long before I lose my shit eventually.”

Barrett breathed a faint laugh and nodded.

“Fair enough. I don’t blame you. Paperwork is the bane of my existence. I miss the simpler days when I was just a smoke eater, instead of Chief.”

At last, he handed over the envelope. I opened it to find three grainy pictures of Huxley, caught on a local gas station’s security camera. Accompanying the pictures was a list of credit card transactions, under a fake name.