Page 1 of Wag More Bark Less

ONE

LUKE

“I can’t arrest a crow, Mrs. Wilcox.”

The diminutive woman met my calm assessment with a glare capable of sending me back to fifth-grade art class.

I’ll never live down that glitter-glue incident.

My fingers twitched against the wool of my dress slacks, itching to scrub a hand through my hair. I made a fist and cleared my throat, focusing on maintaining a neutral expression.

Hide the irritation. Never let it show. Stay professional.

I was good at that.

Just another skill I picked up in the military that’d transitioned easily into law enforcement. Besides, it wasn’t Dana Wilcox’s fault I was on edge. That honor was reserved for a certain Karen who was due to check in to my vacation rental this afternoon.

“Why not?” Dana demanded, as though her question was perfectly reasonable. “It’s breaking and entering.”

When the dispatcher alerted me to a break-in on Blue Spruce Lane, I felt almost smug about the delay it’d cause Karen and her check-in. We’d already spent half the day arguing about the pet policy. Her insistence that her dog, who failed service dog training, would not be an issue gave me a fucking headache.

What the dispatcher failed to mention was that the 10-62 in progress involved a wild animal.

“The law doesn’t apply to crows.” Some days, being the police chief of my hometown made me feel like I’d lost my damn mind. Still, I maintained my composure.

“Then who’s going to pay for my window?” Dana huffed.

“That’s a great question for your insurance company.”

I stepped onto the front porch, readying myself to face the intruder now that I had a chance to survey the damage on the east side of the house. It wasn’t the strangest call I’d received since accepting the position as Police Chief of Bluebell Springs roughly three years ago. Not even in the top five, if I were being honest.

“And tell them what?” Dana continued.

“Tell them what you told me.”

Dana claimed the smaller side window in her living room had been stuck open since this morning. The crow, not quite small enough to fly straight through it, wedged itself through the gap, and in the process, shimmied the wooden window frame loose. By the time the creature took flight toward the couch, the window crashed shut, and glass shattered behind it.

I couldn’t arrest the bird, but I could coax it out of her house. At least, I hoped I could. Otherwise, I’d have to call animal control, and I was not in the fucking mood to deal with that guy today.

A crash sounded from inside, and Dana let out a wail.

“Do you have any unsalted peanuts?” I asked, ignoring her outburst for the sake of keeping the bird calm.

“You want a snack at a time like this?” She slapped a hand against her heart as though insulted. I swallowed a smile, damned thing nearly sticking in my throat.

“It’s not for me.”

I nodded at the window, toward the crow currently perched on the back of her floral-patterned couch in the living room. It struck me how oddly normal this was. Hell, this wasn’t even my first call this week about a pesky crow.

“I have a jar in the kitchen. Out on the counter,” she answered. “But if you want them, you’ll have to get them yourself. I’m not going inside until that intruder’s been apprehended.”

I caught a glimpse of the cracked window next door, along with a moving shadow. No doubt Agnes Mosby spying. Within an hour, half the town would hear an overly dramatized version of events. I’d wager a killer crow the size of a wolf would make it into the story. The sooner I got this menace out of Dana’s house, the better.

My phone pinged, the specific chime I reserved for my vacation rental app.

I groaned.

After my last long-term tenants moved out a couple of weeks ago and left behind half-chewed baseboards and doors with bite marks, my buddy Beckett convinced me I’d be better off renting it to tourists. He insisted they could only do so much damage in a few days’ span.