James and I arrive at Skippy’s trailer. The building is long and dilapidated, made entirely of silver metal. I turn off the engine and walk up to the front door. I bang on it with my fist as loud as I can, and a dog barks in the distance.

This isn’t exactly the best part of town. There are two sides to every village, and this one happens to be on the other side of the tracks.

When no one opens the door, I slam my knuckles against the plastic front screen another time, and the dog from another trailer goes ballistic.

“Skippy, this is Ben Warburton. I have a warrant to search the property. If you do not open this door, I will take it down by force.”

Silence echoes around us. Even the dog backs down from the authority in my voice. When more silence ensues, I have no choice but to make good on my threat. I step back and kick my foot into the door. The feeble material bends against my strength, and the door tumbles inward.

The stench that comes out of that room is enough to send bile up my throat.

It’s a combination of spoiled milk, weed, unwashed clothing, and general… stink. I step on the flattened door and enter, and it takes everything in me not to cover my nose and mouth. There is garbage everywhere, and the place looks like the inside of a sardine can.

How can anyone live like this?

My eyes scour the perimeter. There’s no sign of Skippy hiding anywhere, though it’s entirely possible that he could be tucked beneath any of the massive piles of discarded beer bottles or laundry. I kick at each of them with my boot as I look for some kind of evidence.

It’s clear that Skippy uses this place for sleeping, drinking, and drugs. I pull open a few drawers, but they are empty save a few plastic spoons and knives.

Yep. This place screams Skippy.

I step out to find James staring up at the place, his hand shielding his eyes from the morning sun.

“Find anything?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. If there’s anything in there, we’ll need the man himself to tell us where it is. I’m not going back in there without a hazmat suit.”

James smirks up at me as I make my way down the stairs. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ll need a good shower after this to get the stink of being inside off my clothing. Let’s go find this dirty bastard.”

James makes no protest as we slide back into the cruiser and take off toward town. My eyes are peeled for anything suspicious, and I get the sudden sensation that I should visit Naomi.

Something’s not right. My instincts have helped me save my men time and time again, so I listen to them. I turn the cruiser in the direction of Naomi’s place.

Flashes in my mind. Skippy threatening Naomi. Katie. And now he’s not home on the day we find evidence that links him directly to the threat. Unquestionable events which place him on the boat, at the scene of the crime.

A theft that had to have taken place in the past week, after he first harassed the girls in the restaurant. My heart thuds.

Does that even make sense?

I haven’t had another report of theft since the first where I cuffed my girl.

“Where are we headed?”

“Naomi’s restaurant. Maybe she might have information.”

“You think she’ll talk?”

“I do,” I say.

I understand where his doubt is coming from, but it doesn’t block my irritation at his statement. I say nothing else as a feeling of dread settles in my belly, and I press my foot on the gas, speeding up. When I park in the lot by her place, the tires screech.

“Ben, what’s going on? Do you have a lead you’re not telling me about?”

He can sense my urgency, which isn’t hard to do given the speed I used to get us here.

“Maybe. Let’s find out.”

I step out of the car and approach Naomi’s place. I tug on the glass door, but it’s locked. I look at my watch and realize that it’s lunch time. The place should be open. I bang my fist against the door, and Paul walks out from the kitchen. When he sees me, he picks up his pace as he meets us at the front door. He unlocks it and opens it, but I don’t step inside.

“Paul. Where’s Naomi? Why are you guys closed?”

Paul shrugs, but his eyes are dark with worry. “She left a little bit ago to find Katie. Katie never showed up for her shift, so I’m holding court until they get back. Naomi told me to keep the place closed until they do.”

It’s enough to get my heart pumping hard. I could feel that something wasn’t right, but now I know it in my bones.

“James, follow me,” I say, and then I bolt down the sidewalk. The sound of blood rushes in my ears, and I focus on each step as I tear down the street toward Katie’s cottage. I have to do a little calculation in my mind. I watched her walk home last night, but I wasn’t focusing on specifics.

I was only thinking about Naomi at the time.

A little white cottage stands a few houses down from the restaurant. I notice that the front door is slightly ajar—I’ve found my place.

I don’t bother to be subtle. If something has happened to Naomi…

I kick the front door open, and it splinters beneath my foot. In the space of an instant, I register the entire scene, and it’s not a good one.

Katie is tied to a chair and gagged. Before her, trying to protect her, is Naomi. Her eyes are wide with fear as she stares into the open mouth of a handgun, held by Skippy.

Found you, you son of a bitch.

My animal instinct takes over, and the soldier inside me springs into action. I jump over the couch and tackle Skippy. He’s so stunned he doesn’t fight back as I wrap my hand over the gun and tear it from his grasp. His finger rips out of the trigger hole, and he howls.

I toss the gun aside and fling Skippy onto his stomach. I pull his arms behind his back and shove his wrists together, and I look up at Naomi. She’s blinking back tears as she watches me, and I’m instantly concerned for her safety.

“You all right?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

James runs up the steps at that moment and enters, taking in the scene. His eyes land on Katie, then me. “Good call, Sheriff,” he says.

It might be the first compliment he’s ever paid me. I remind myself to celebrate later. There is work still to be done here. I pull out a pair of handcuffs and slap them against Skippy’s wrists. I don’t bother being gentle.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

“Fuck you, pig! I’ll be out by the end of the day.”

“No, you won’t. James, can you take care of him while I question the witnesses?”

“Happy to,” he says, and his eyes gleam as I heft Skippy from the ground and shove him into James’s grasp.

“You couldn’t hold me before, and you can’t hold me now. Katie and I are kinky like that. Stay out of our bedroom life!”

I ignore that little comment as James drags him away. I don’t have time to bother with that asshole anyway. I turn to look at Naomi, and all I want to do is hold her close to me until I’m convinced she’s OK. Her eyes are glassy and red, and she looks at me with a haunted expression.

Katie shouts through her gag, and the spell is broken.

I pull a Swiss army knife from my pocket. It’s heavy and thick, and it’s one of the most useful tools I own. I swipe open a blade and approach her. “I’m going to cut this from the back, OK? Can you lean forward a bit?”

She nods once and presses against the sheets tying her to the chair. Cotton can be a durable fabric, when twisted in the right way. The fact that Skippy knows that only incriminates him more. I pull the cloth as far from Katie’s head as I can without hurting her and saw through the fabric. With a snap, it breaks apart, and Katie spits it onto the floor.

She releases a sob as Naomi rushes to her and tries to hug her. Since she’s still tied to the chair, that’s a little difficult to do. I step behind them and see that Naomi already tried to tug at the knot holding Katie down, but those attempts only served to tighten it.

Quite the sailor, our Skippy.

My knife still in hand, I slice through the twisted sheet until it comes apart, and Katie throws it to the ground. She falls into her friend’s arms and cries as Naomi strokes her hair and whispers comforting words. I wait for her to calm down, and when the two of them are seated on her couch, I crouch in front of her, careful not to touch her.

“Katie. Skippy’s no longer a threat to you. He won’t be. I’ll make sure of it.”

My eyes dart to Naomi, then back to Katie. I want her to know that applies to her, too. Katie sniffs and rubs her red nose with a sleeve. Even in this condition, she’s lovely, and I find myself pissed that a man like Skippy was able to get his hands on her. How far did he go?

“Are you injured? Did he do anything to hurt you beyond tying you up?”

She shakes her head, and her body trembles. Naomi wraps a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“No. He… he showed up in the early hours of the morning and pulled me out of bed. He tied me up so I wouldn’t run away, but it’s like he was waiting for something, or maybe someone else to show up. I don’t know!”

Tears streak down her rosy cheeks again, and I give her a moment to cry it out. I’m hopeful that now that we have our man in the bag, this nightmare can come to an end. We can finally move on with our lives and return to the peace everyone was so accustomed to. I wish I could rest easier knowing that he didn’t harm her outside of scaring her, but I won’t.

This shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

“Is there anyone you can call and stay with for a while?”

She nods. “My mom. I can stay with her. God, she’s going to freak!”

“It’s OK, Katie. You’re safe now,” Naomi says.

She helps Katie find her phone and make the call. When her mother arrives, she is beside herself, especially when she sees the chair and all the cut sheets that bound her daughter. I do my best to explain the situation and to remind them both that they are safe now. The perpetrator will be locked up for a long time, shipped to prison elsewhere.

The worry doesn’t leave their eyes.

I watch them depart with a weight on my shoulders. It feels like this should be the end. We got our man. But I have a feeling this isn’t over yet, and I hate that feeling. I bury it deep as I turn back to look at Naomi.

Now it’s time to make sure she knows how safe she is with me.