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“What’s so funny?” Silas kicked my shin under the table. “Don’t tell us you know who they’re talking about.”

I didn’t bother replying. My friends would have worried if they’d known what I was thinking. I wasn’t that desperate or unhinged.

Was I?

CHAPTER 12

WAYLON

“Are you kidding? That’s a terrible idea.”

The police chief stood with his hands on his hips, looking more at home in the middle of the lumber aisle than he had any right to. “I know, I know. You’re right. Forget it.”

I shook my head, stepping into his space to avoid being overheard. “Hell, I thought you were here about the missing inventory. Someone from the station already took a report, but⁠—”

“That was Petey. But you’re right—let’s discuss the nut caper,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I hear someone’s been screwing with your nuts.”

“Very funny.”

Reg’s lips curled mischievously, erasing any lingering awkwardness. “Sorry. It’s not amusing in the slightest. I want to find this screwy bandit before he bolts.”

“Wow,” I deadpanned, glancing away with a huffed laugh.

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye out for anyone with a⁠—”

“If you say a loose screw, I’m gonna take you down.”

He snickered lightly. “You gotta admit, it’s a little funny.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. But approximately five hundred dollars’ worth of fasteners are gone. I’m the new guy and trust me, there are a few folks who think I stole a job from someone who by birthright alone should have my position.”

“Now that’s absurd. But…yeah, I can see it.” Reg fixed me with a cool look. “I promise you, we take these claims seriously. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks. As for your dad…”

He wrinkled his nose and exhaled. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m just…surprised. I barely know your father. I don’t think he’s gonna take kindly to an out-of-towner tryin’ to teach him something new. Plus getting on the police chief’s dad’s shit list could blow up worse for me than a few missing nuts and bolts.” And that was the damn truth.

Reg wasn’t deterred. “You’re not on anyone’s shit list. But…just forget about it. Seriously.”

“Not so fast.” I opened my arms meaningfully, catching the attention of a couple of loggers passing our aisle. “I’m too curious now. Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

“Okay.” Reg blew out a stream of air and continued in a low, serious tone. “I spoke with Dr. Anastasi, a geriatrician from Rutland who specializes in dementia. We don’t have anyone like that here unfortunately, so we’ve made a few trips to see her. The consults haven’t gone well. Dad was insulted the first visit, scared on the second one, and it’s gone downhill from there. Our family is in contact with her, trying to establish a long-term plan for him. Regular routines and mealtimes…no problem. My dad is super independent and that’s also a good thing, although wandering is becoming an issue. But supposedly projects can be good.”

“And that’s where I come in?”

“Maybe?” Reg sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I think I’m losing my mind. Truth is, I’ve thought about you constantly for weeks, and instead of telling you that like a normal person, I made it weird.”

“Just a little,” I agreed. “But it’s kind of flattering, too.”

“Well, you’re a nice guy, and you’re possibly the only person over thirty that Dad hasn’t pissed off who’s a trustworthy and positive influence.”

I cocked my head curiously. “My seven-year-old nephew drew butts on your sidewalk. Are you sure I’m a good influence?”

He smirked. “I’m relatively sure. And you did mention that you needed a project.”

“Not quite what I had in mind, Chief.”