I pulled up in front of the police station with the sun halfway over the mountaintops. It was a brick-and-mortar operation, painted the color of tired sandstone after years of rugged mountain weather. An odd building for small-town cops with more presence than expected, the expertly carved ember-colored wooden sign over the door proclaimed the word “POLICE” in white letters. Two high-pressure sodium lights bathed the whole place in fiery yellow on tall poles, similar to the ones I used at the dealership.

Gravel crunched beneath the soles of my boots while the husky whisper of wind sifted through spindly tree branches nearby. An easy push opened the heavy steel door and released a wave of stale warmth along with the faint aroma of dust and hot coffee. The spacious chamber contained a handful of desks strewn haphazardly across an open floor plan. 

A lone cop sat alone near the center of the room. A town of a thousand folk can’t afford a large police force, but I guess I still expected more than one guy.

He stood and greeted me with a broad smile that stretched across his youthful face. His hand took mine like an old friend, with a firm grasp and a warm handshake designed to make up for the outdoor temperature. His eyes sparkled with genuine kindness, making me feel instantly at ease.

“I’m Ollie,” he said, and by his voice I realized he was the character I’d spoken with on the phone from Miles City. A thick, jovial man, his skin struck me as surprisingly smooth and unblemished. The soft skin you’d expect of a child, not a strapping police officer.

“Glad to meet you, Ollie. You related to the hotel owner? Seems like that’s his name as well.”

His chuckle held a comfortable friendliness that I liked immediately. “That’s me. Guess you met my nephew, Timmy. Hope the room suits your taste, Mr. Pierce.”

“Just Connor. It’s a fine space,” I said. A little exaggeration couldn’t hurt. Questions about the room numbering seemed out of place for the moment. “Guess there’s no chance of my going undercover in this town,” I jested.

Ollie blushed, brightening the polish on his olive skin. 

“Just you here?” My head turned to survey the expanse. Big enough for a squad of men, I’d walked halfway across it to get to him. A couple of glassed-in offices ran along the back wall, currently lifeless and empty.

“As good as.” He twisted his thick neck to and fro. “Used to belong to the Burlington Northern Railroad men. Small town we got here, but sometimes we work with the Mounties. Or the Feds.” A slight frown tempered the happy kid act for a second. “Mostly just me.” The disappointment lifted. “Keeping the peace in our happening little burg. But the Lincoln County Sheriff spends a good bit of time over here. Says it’s closer to his home in Whitefish.” He leaned forward with a whisper. “I think he’s avoiding the politics in Libby.”

I nodded. “Good reason. Still, a considerable space for a solitary man. I’d feel a bit lonely.”

“Nah. There’s usually someone around, hiding in a corner with paperwork or some such.” He added a quick wink. “Plus, you get out of the office quite a bit with just one guy. Stolen bicycles and petty crimes.” The frown returned and his gaze brushed the neatly arranged desktop. “Domestics. Don’t like that much.” One of those smooth hands repositioned a wonky stapler.

“You heard I came up here after Kayla Peale?” It seemed as good a place as any to step in it.

The grin reignited. “Everyone’s talking. Boy, that kid sure causes some trouble.” He shook his happy head.

“What do you think about the situation? Should I worry about her father, Aidan Peale?”

Ollie sloughed it off his rounded shoulders. “Aidan’s a thing around here. Folks get used to him.” His smile stayed strong. “How about some coffee?” He grabbed his mug with a quick move and walked toward a coffeemaker in the shadows.

I followed obediently. “Sure.”

“You like the area?” he asked, taking an overturned cup from the small coffee bar and pouring the thick black liquid from the carafe. Tendrils of steam wafted upward. The aroma was strong, but not unappealing. 

I took the cup from him. “Thanks,” I said, wondering if a Chamber of Commerce speech was in his job description. 

He topped off his own mug and took an approving sip. “Any plan to visit Lake Koocanusa? A little chilly, but always good camping.”

“Maybe after I find the little girl.” It sounded harsh without inflection, and I hoped it made my point.

He nodded with vigor. “Yessir. I understand. This situation happens every once in a while.” He led me back to his desk, but we continued to stand, chatting like old friends. “Where the girl goes off with Dad, and Mom or Sis get excited. We spend a bit of time checking things out, then she turns up full of piss and vinegar.”

I glanced around to gain footing on what began to feel, with these revelatory details about Kayla Peale, very much like a slope of loose shale. Someone appeared to have salvaged Ollie’s metal desk from a military closeout sale. Another couple of desks, wooden and battered, held sway on the edges of the tract. 

Now that my eyes had adjusted, I could read that Sheriff Bernard de Lude, by the name on the door, had one of the small offices that lined the back wall. That room was dark, turning my reflection as the bewildered detective into the main event. I shifted my attention back to Ollie’s casual interrogation about my intentions in his assigned bailiwick.

“What did you think of Faye’s Daily Diner?” he asked. “She puts out quite a meal.”

“Dinner and a show,” I said, hoping to avoid a side trail with no outlet. “The Peale’s give you a bit of the run around then?” I said this with one more cursory scan of the oversized office, meant to feign indifference. 

He batted the inquiry away with his fingers. “Some. But you get used to people’s quirks. Me, I think mountain folk have more than their share.” He sat down in the military-grade desk chair, waved me to its partner nearby.

“I best not,” I said with a light grin. “Been sitting all night. Might slow me down to a coma.”

This made Ollie laugh. It was a laugh thick with goodwill. I liked him, despite the struggle to get information from his happy-go-lucky worldview.

“I hope you like your room,” he said. “Place has been in the family for a couple generations. I take Timmy fishing every chance, along with my son, and a bit of hiking or camping overnight. I don’t like bugs, but the boys get me through it with their enthusiasm.”

“How about Kayla Peale?” I interjected. “I heard she’s an outdoorsy kid.”

Ollie’s neck turned the color of baked salmon. “Sure,” he said. “That kid is a wilderness hound. One time, we spent hours wandering the woods around her Dad’s place, searching—”

“Officer Gerulis,” a voice bellowed from the empty office door.

My spine snapped to military straight. My face flushed hot.

“You got that paperwork on Mortimer’s stolen chickens?” The voice had the graveled quality of cigar smokers and whiskey aficionados. Its owner’s solid frame, a grizzly, unkempt version of Ox Crandall, propped the door open. This man had to be Sheriff de Lude. His chocolate-colored jacket and tan button-up collar gave the biggest clue. A law enforcement ball cap covered his head, and a thick, salt-and-pepper caterpillar rested on his upper lip. He was two or three days from his last shave. “Partner,” he said, catching my eye. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not a problem, Sheriff,” I replied, though my accelerated heart rate said it was absolutely a problem.

The big man’s heavy footsteps reverberated as he covered the considerable stretch with the quickness of a bear. The office door swung shut behind him so slowly, he’d breached my personal space before it was fully closed. 

“You’re the character helping Lorna Peale out of her hysterics.” His breath touched my face, noticeably lacking the minty freshness of his fellow officer, now safely behind me. More like the hibernation breath of a disturbed grizzly. As agreeable as his tone sounded, it had taken a force of will to stand still for the approach. I grasped the thick paw he thrust at me. Its roughness countered the smooth feel of Officer Ollie’s by a hundred eighty degrees of nuance.

“I am,” I said with a deliberate rhythm. The pulse in my neck threatened to reveal my false bravado. “In fact, I’d come by the office here to make sure that’s not going to be a problem.”

“Only if you make it one.” His grin intended to disarm the warning, but those dark brown eyes lacked the sparkle of mischief necessary to sell the notion. “Genuinely glad you’re helping the family out.” He released me from his grip. “Don’t think it’s much of a mystery, really. Probably a hoax designed by Vicky Peale and her adolescent mother to put the kibosh on Aidan spending time with the child. They do this on the regular.”

A trickle of sweat rolled down my back despite the coolness of the sheriff’s demeanor. “So I’ve been told.” I tipped my head at Ollie. “Officer Gerulis here says the child is capable and ornery, as well.” 

The Sheriff’s chuckle came across as a gentle growl. “Gave my deputy a run for, on more than one occasion.”

A deputy sheriff entered the front of the building as if on cue and wandered over.

“Deputy Spiesz,” the Sheriff said. “This here’s….” His head cocked toward me, waiting for me to finish the phrase.

“Connor Pierce.” I took the deputy’s weak handshake. Its lack of strength made me blink.

Spiesz had a dorky smile and an air of complacent agreement. His dark skin and high cheekbones reminded me of desk clerk Timmy, and a bit of Officer Ollie, the dual-career uncle. Though Spiesz was duller and droopy-eyed. I wondered if he might be a tad slow. They used to call them retarded, but common decency relabeled them developmentally delayed. The idea of the Sheriff hiring a man with limited mental capacity intrigued my internal detection system.

“Glad to meet you,” he said with overly precise enunciation.

“Pierce is attempting to put Lorna’s mind to ease,” Sheriff de Lude told his deputy.

Deputy Spiesz’s face lit up like it was the best thing he’d heard all day.

“Course,” de Lude went on, “maybe she’s just using him as her beard. Keep the light shining on her husband.”

I took the joke with a quiet laugh and wondered if I should keep asking questions. It felt like the sheriff’s goodwill came in measured doses. Problem was, they knew aspects of the Peale drama others could not. Ignore them and miss a vital clue. Or irk the Sheriff and get run out of town. 

These two could certainly make it harder to work on finding the girl. And I needed the money Lorna Peale was offering.

“Since we’re on the topic,” I said. “Mind if I ask about Aidan Peale?”

Sheriff de Lude’s lips held onto the grin, but the mischievous twinkle evaporated. “Guess you just did.” 

“I’ve heard he likes to confront people,” I said.

“That’s a word for it.” This time the sheriff gave a playful nod at his compatriots.

“He ever violent?”

“Naw,” Sheriff said. “He’s a tame one. Weird. Has crazy ideas. Gets in people’s face. Nothing physical.”

“What kind of crazy?”

De Lude’s tone thinned to a razor. “The tame kind.”

The trickle of nervous sweat restarted its journey down my spine. But I’d come this far, and decided to keep going. I said, “When I spoke with him he kept switching personalities. Isn’t that something to be concerned about? What if he decides he’s an ogre that eats its offspring?”

The Sheriff’s smile took a turn toward contentious. “Well, that’s just stirring up mean ideas in folks. You’ll have the whole town traipsing out to the Peale place with torches or a noose.”

“How long is the child missing before it sounds like a thing to check into? I didn’t see hide nor hair when I went to visit. If she’s not with Mom and she’s not with Dad, where is she? Maybe a few torches would help with the search?”

That furry caterpillar twitched when he huffed. “They do this a lot, that Peale family. You should find a more productive way to spend your time.” Sheriff de Lude shifted his body away from me. “Ollie, I need that report. Them chickens ain’t going to find themselves the way home.”

I let the irony of this order pass without comment. Those chickens were probably a special breed. Important. And a lot easier to find.

Deputy Spiesz had a crooked, half-cocked smile pointed in my direction. Ollie just stared hard at the paper document he was scratching at with a pen.

I’d nearly forgotten about the couple, Faye and Hugh Jenkins. Aidan told me his wife would randomly drop Kayla off at their place. Maybe that’s where she left the child when she wanted to stir up trouble, like the Sheriff hinted? I opened my lips to ask about them, then skipped it.

“You’re probably right. But I have to make a decent effort to justify taking payment for my services.”

They stood there like two of the Three Stooges. Ollie tried to shrink deeper into his chair and out of the frame. It made a body wonder what kind of half-baked lawmen let a kid stay missing.

Sheriff de Lude marched to his office. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Pierce,” he said without turning his head.

“And you,” I replied. The other two got a nod from me.

Ollie completely missed it. Spiesz seemed to contemplate its meaning.

 I left the oversized and under-manned station, my body humming with urgency like a swarm of angry bees stirred up by a cold gust of wind. Every strand of muscle vibrated with the determination to find the child. 

And based on the exchange with these fine lawmen, it would be up to me alone to get it done.