"Absolutely, they do," Reese said.
"Good. Well, carry on." Dupont exited, and Jo turned back to Reese.
"What was that all about? Did you make that up?"
Reese laughed. "No. Remember the other day when we were talking and you said it was too bad we couldn’t hire Lucy?"
"Yeah, but I was joking."
"That got me thinking. I know other precincts have K-9 dogs, and I did some research and asked around at school. It turns out there’s a grant program. So I took the initiative to apply." Reese looked sheepishly at Sam. "I hope you don’t mind me doing it without asking, but you were busy with the case, and I figured it was a long shot, so I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up."
"I don’t mind at all. But how did you get it past the mayor’s office? Don’t they have to sign off on this?" Sam asked.
"Sure they do, but I have a friend that works in city hall, and she just happened to put the paperwork in along with a bunch of other paperwork, and Henley Jamison, the vice mayor, rubber-stamped it. Then I have another friend who’s really good with computers, and we managed to, um... fast-track the application."
Sam narrowed his gaze. "Fast-track? How did you do that?"
Reese grimaced. "Well, I—"
Sam held up his palm. "Never mind. I don’t want to know. The important thing is you got it done."
Reese beamed. "Now Lucy can be here officially all day. We don’t have to bring her to the shelter. She could stay here in the cell, or someone can take her home at night. And she won’t be alone all day while we’re at work. Plus, she really did help out. The grant pays for dog food, a bulletproof dog vest, even a dog bed."
"Excellent work." Sam squatted down, and Lucy trotted over. Maybe it was his imagination, but her fur looked a little shinier today. The rip in her ear looked to be healing.
Jo crouched down beside him and scratched Lucy’s neck. Even Kevin bent down to pet the dog. Sam glanced back at Tyler’s empty desk in the corner, then at his crew now huddled around Lucy. They were happy, laughing. Even the dog was smiling. Maybe things were looking up for the White Rock Police Department.
Epilogue
Two weeks later...
Sam pushed the stack of resumes onto Jo’s desk, nudging the white donut bag aside. "I want you to look through these. I only see three applicants that would be good for the job, but I want to get your take on it."
"Sure thing." Jo leaned back in her chair, slapping her feet up on the open desk drawer. Things had been quiet since they’d closed the Palmer murder case.
They’d had the usual small-town disturbances. Finding the owners of lost pets, arbitrating problems between neighbors, even solving the fascinating case of the missing milk bottles from Mrs. Murphy’s steps. It turned out some bored kids had been playing pranks on her.
But, even though it was quiet, things were looming in the future.
"You going to the town council meeting tonight?" Jo asked as if sensing Sam’s gloomy thoughts.
That night, the town council was meeting on a rezoning law. Thorne wanted to rezone a parcel of land he’d purchased so he could continue on the build-out of his resort. Sam was alarmed at the rate that Thorne was buying up properties from the old-timers. He suspected there might be some strong-arming or at least hard persuasion going on to get that land but had no way to prove it.
"You bet. I don’t know who Dupont thinks he’s kidding. He can’t keep influencing the council members so that Thorne can ruin the land and build more hotels and restaurants."
"Tell me about it." Jo glanced out the window. "The scenery is so beautiful here. I’d hate to see it turn into a city."
"It’s not gonna. Not if I can help it."
"Woof."
"Even Lucy agrees." Sam crouched down and patted the dog. Lucy was now a permanent fixture due to the grant. Dupont had stopped complaining about her when he’d seen how much the locals loved the idea of a police dog in town.
For Dupont, it was all about the votes, but in this case it also worked in Sam’s favor. Of course, Dupont had taken the credit for getting the K-9 grant. Reese played along—she was happy just to have saved Lucy.
Sam had taken to bringing Lucy home with him. He’d gotten accustomed to having the dog as company. She was better company than either of his ex-wives, just as Mick had predicted. She never talked back, was always happy to see him, and didn’t expect him to take her out to dinner.
Jo opened the manila folder and started shuffling through the resumes. "I don’t know. It seems disloyal somehow to be hiring someone else in Tyler’s place."
They both glanced over at the empty desk. Lucy must have agreed with them. She trotted over and started sniffing around then looked back at Sam and whined.
"I know. Even Lucy senses the loss. But we have to fill the opening," Sam said. "Maybe we can get a different desk for the new person."
"Woof." Lucy scratched at the corner of the desk.
"Are you hungry?" Sam glanced at her dish. He’d fed her just a few hours ago.
Lucy kept scratching and looking back at Sam with those whiskey-brown eyes as if she was trying to tell him something.
"Looks like she’s after something," Jo said. "Did you ever clean out Tyler’s desk?"
Sam nodded solemnly. Kevin had done that job shortly after Tyler died. He’d handed all of Tyler’s notebooks and all his notes for the various cases to Sam. The desk was empty.
"Well, I don’t know what she’s after," Jo said. "Maybe some old food stuck in the bottom of a drawer?"
"Woof!" Lucy’s scratching became more persistent. She shoved her nose into the three-inch space under the bank of drawers on the side of the desk and sniffed loudly.
Sam went over and crouched down beside her. "What are you doing? Is something under there?"
"Woof!"
Sam pressed his cheek to the cold marble floor so he could get a better look at the bottom of the drawer. As if to encourage him, Lucy pressed her snout under the desk too, looking sideways out of the corner of her eye at him.
The desk was old, made of solid wood, not like the new particleboard crap. Even the bottom of the drawer was old oak. Except for a small piece of metal that glinted gold. He wedged his hand under, his fingertips brushing the smooth surface of packing tape and thin bump of something the tape was holding. He peeled the tape away, and something small and metal clinked onto the marble floor. He grabbed it.
Jo had come over and was squatting next to him. "What is it?"
He pulled it out and opened up his hand. A small gold key tarnished and pitted with rust gleamed in his palm. The numbers 317 were engraved on the rounded top.
Jo plucked it out of his hand. "What is this? A post-office key?"
They both looked back at the row of post-office boxes. Those old boxes didn’t take keys—they were a combination lock with two dials on the front. And besides, they didn’t need a key to get into those boxes. The backs were open.
"Or a safety deposit box, or locker key? Those types of keys are all this size with numbers on them." Sam took the key back and flipped it over in his hand. "It would be impossible to tell where it came from."
"How long do you think it’s been under the desk?" Jo looked up at Sam. Their eyes locked. "Do you think Tyler put this here?"
Sam got that tightness in his chest. The feeling that told him this was something important. That this was something he needed to investigate. "Hard to say. These desks are left over from the post office. The key looks old. So anyone could’ve put it here, but..."
"Yeah, I know. It seems awfully strange. I don’t think this is something we should just put off as coincidence."