Monday morning, I waited for Moody to appear. He was late, and as usual where he was concerned, I was irritated. Already on my third cup of coffee, I replayed my weekend in my head. Jenny and I had gone back to my place, made love, and then had actually napped for a few hours. When she said she should go home, I’d convinced her to stay. I could get used to having her in my bed every night.

When I’d kissed her good-bye this morning, I’d almost asked her to come over tonight when she got off work. I liked having her with me, but I resisted asking. We’d spent the weekend together, and it was better that I give her space. Didn’t want her getting tired of my ugly face.

Moody’s voice floated down the hall, and I swiveled my chair to face my computer. By the time he walked in, I was creating a form for my officers to fill out with their uniform sizes.

“I’m here,” he said, standing in the doorway.

“Sit.” I kept on working for another five minutes, letting him stew. Playing games with people wasn’t normally my thing, but Moody brought out the worst in me. At what I estimated to be his tenth loud sigh, I shut down the monitor.

“Captain, before we’re done here, one of two things is going to happen. You are either going to give me your word that you accept me as the police chief, or you’re going to put your gun and badge on my desk.”

He sputtered and his face turned red. I held up my hand. “I’m not done yet. This department’s a joke. Since you’ve acted as the interim chief for the past six months, some of that is on you.”

“You son of—”

“Careful. Here’s the thing, Moody. Together, you and I could make the Blue Ridge Valley Police Department something that our officers and our town could be proud of. You’re either with me or against me. Which will it be?” He’d been with the department longer than any other officer here, and for that reason alone, I was giving him one last chance.

“You let a murderer walk free. You arrested a poor girl who was traumatized. How the fuck do you expect me to be with you on anything?”

Stupid ass. I deducted a million—no, a trillion—points. “If by a murderer you mean Gertie Jenkins, her guilt or non-guilt is up to the courts. And by the poor girl, if you mean Stephanie, the court will also decide her guilt or innocence based on the evidence, not me. That’s how the law works.”

I wanted to knock some sense into him with my fist. Never had a man working for me frustrated me the way Moody did. “Time’s up. Do I have your support?”

Moody shot up so fast you’d think his chair was on fire.

“I don’t have to take this shit from you.” He paused at the door, giving me a hard stare that he probably thought would have me shaking in my boots. “You can expect a call from the mayor.”

I rolled my eyes at the empty doorway. According to the addition I’d made to my contract before I scrawled my John Hancock on it, if Jim John wanted me gone before my year was up, he would have to give me a letter terminating my employment signed not only by him but the town manager and all three commissioners. It wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of me. I was pretty sure I had all but Jim John on my side. And that was only until I found out what Moody had on the mayor.

By the evening shift change, I hadn’t heard a word from Jim John. Nor had I seen Moody since our morning meeting. Truthfully his absence made for a much improved atmosphere in the building.

As the evening officers arrived and the day shift returned to the station, I gathered them in the lobby. “I have some good news,” I said, getting their attention. “As soon as you fill out the form Tommy’s about to pass out and get it back to me, we’ll be able to order your new uniforms, courtesy of your mayor.”

Whistles and enthusiastic clapping filled my ears. “You’ll get one dress uniform, one logoed black leather jacket, five dark blue polo shirts with our logo, and three pairs of black cargo pants.” I held up a picture the uniform company had sent me.

“Those are awesome,” Sarah Griffin said, and everyone vigorously nodded.

They were. I’d like that uniform for myself, but settled for what I’d already picked. Wearing something different from my officers set me apart, which was an important thing to do, and giving them the super cool uniform scored me points.

“The second bit of news you’re going to like, your next paycheck will have a five percent increase.” I waited for the huzzahs and cheers to die down. There was enough money in my new budget to give them even more, but they didn’t need to know that.

“This is the only time there will be across-the-board increases. From here on out, your raises will be based on your job performance. Your first review will be six months from today. Whether you get a raise at that time will depend on you.”

Fortunately my new police department wasn’t unionized. In Chicago I’d never be able to get away with that. As they filed out, either to go home or on shift, each man and woman came up and thanked me. I felt pretty damn good.

Gene, my sole detective, the last to leave and the last to comment, said, “The mayor thought of this? Not likely.”

“Could be likely. Guess you’ll never know.” He rolled his eyes, making me chuckle. I followed Gene to his desk. “You in a hurry to get out of here?”

“I got some time.”

“Good. Grab that cold case file you’re working on and bring it to my office.” I stopped in the break room, got an RC Cola, which I’d seen Gene drinking previously, a bottle of water for myself, and a half bag of pretzels I saw on the counter.

“Tell me about the case,” I said, digging into the pretzels.

“Six years ago, Old Man Scroggins’s prize bull went missing—”

“Say again.”

Gene’s lips twitched. “Yeah, it’s a prize-bull cold case.”

“That’s what I thought you said. Go on.” God forbid the guys back in Chicago got ahold of this. I’d never hear the end of it.

“The Angus stud bull was valued at five thousand. Scroggins got a hundred-dollar stud fee per cow, plus room and board for forty-five days. He had a waiting list, people lined up, wanting their cows covered by that particular bull.”

I grinned. “Covered meaning getting it on?”

“You’re having too much fun with this, Chief.”

“Impossible not to.” A missing prize bull beat a murder cold case any day. “Any suspects?”

“Scroggins accused his neighbor, Roland Hancock, of stealing Beauregard and eating him.”

I tried to keep a straight face. I really did.

“Thought that would tickle you,” Gene said when I laughed.

“Sorry, this is too good. I assume Hancock’s place was searched?” I paused before adding, “Of course, if he ate the evidence, I guess there was no proof?” Gene sat back in his chair, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. I couldn’t resist throwing out the line from an old commercial. “So, where’s the beef?”

That finally did it. He slapped his palm on his leg as he burst into laughter. “Stop it, Chief,” he gasped.

I shrugged. “I’ll try. If the bull’s been missing for six years, do you really think you’ll find it now?”

“That’s not the problem as much as there’s been an ongoing Hatfield and McCoy situation between the two families ever since. Patrol’s out there two or three times a month because one of them’s taken a potshot at the other, or some such nonsense. The day’s going to come when one of them gets hurt if we don’t put a stop to it. Roland didn’t steal that bull, much less eat it, but Old Man Scroggins can’t seem to get that through his hard head.”

“And you know that how?”

“I grew up with Roland. We played ball together. He was the pitcher. I was his catcher. He won us the state championship our senior year. I know him. He didn’t do it, Chief, but he’s getting real tired of the old man messing with him, so I told him I’d look into it.”

I took the file from Gene. “Whose case was it?”

“Captain Moody’s. He was the detective back then.”

“Of course he was.” Opening the folder, I flipped through the meager report. “Not much here, but I’ll go through it with a fresh pair of eyes. Not sure we’ll get anywhere, but who knows, right?”

Gene stood. “Thanks, Chief.”

“No, thank you. Seriously. I never thought I’d be investigating a kidnapped bull case.” Damn, I loved this town. “Now go home to your wife and kids, Gene.” By the hint of a smile, I knew he’d figured out when and why I used one of my officer’s first names.

After he left, I put my feet on my desk, leaning back in my leather chair. After reading the report twice, I recalled something I’d seen in another of Moody’s old notes on another case. After double-checking that I’d remembered right, I closed both folders, locking them in my desk. Beauregard hadn’t been turned into hamburger patties, and I knew who had him. Damn Moody and his incompetence.