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clean as she could get it, Nick had come out of his room. “You want a snack, honey?”
    “I was thinking, you wanna watch a movie or something?”
    She didn’t, really. She needed to get started on the laundry and make a shopping list. But it was his way of reaching out, so she nodded. “You get the movie, I’ll make the popcorn.”
    * * *
    Ryan knew he should be doing the final prep work so he could pull the kitchen windows out and put the new ones in with as little inconvenience to Rosie as possible, but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he sat on the porch with a beer, enjoying the quiet.
    He’d always considered Saturdays just another workday, but he didn’t have a lot of ambition today. Matt and Dill had headed back to Massachusetts for the weekend the night before in one of the trucks. Rosie’s car was in the shop, so she’d taken Josh’s truck to some antique place with Fran Benoit. And because she had Josh’s truck, Josh had taken Ryan’s truck into town to do some errands.
    Ryan couldn’t go anywhere without a vehicle and he didn’t feel like working, so he’d popped a beer and sat down. An hour later, he woke up, groggy and with a stiff neck from his head flopping over in the chair.
    A sound caught his attention and he lifted his head, trying to place it. It was a weird plink , like something tapping glass, and probably what had woken him up. It wasn’t until he froze, straining in the silence, that he heard the pop of a pellet gun.
    Somebody was shooting at the new windows. No doubt the same damn somebody who’d been making a nuisance of himself for weeks.
    Ryan’s instinct was to go running out back, where the windows were leaning up against the barn waiting to be installed, but he didn’t. Instead he crept around the house and peeked until he spotted a teenage boy just in the tree line. Though it would probably cost him a pane of glass, he took his time moving to a spot where the kid couldn’t see him and sneaked into the woods. He slowly made his way through the trees and, by the time the vandal saw him it was too late.
    The kid made a break for it, but Ryan had momentum and took him down to the ground. The pellet gun went flying and he hauled the boy to his feet by the back of his collar.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    The kid squirmed, trying to break free, but Ryan had been in construction a long time and had a strong grip. With his free hand, he slipped his phone out of its holster and dialed the Whitford Police Department.
    “Please don’t call the cops,” the boy pleaded, but Ryan wasn’t screwing around. The Northern Star Lodge had enough woes without some punk kid making it worse.
    After the dispatcher promised to send an officer, Ryan marched the kid around the house and told him to sit down. “What’s your name, kid?”
    He got no response, but the sullen disrespect the boy was going for didn’t mask the fear on his face. He was probably so afraid he couldn’t talk if he wanted to.
    “Suit yourself. I bet whoever shows up to cart your sorry vandalizing ass to jail will know who you are.”
    Ten minutes later, a cruiser pulled up the drive and Drew Miller got out. Mitch’s best friend was the police chief now, which boggled Ryan’s mind, and they shook hands before Drew turned his attention to the vandal.
    “What’s up, Nick?” The kid shrugged one shoulder, staring at the police chief’s shoes. Drew pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “I have a list here of all the incidents Rose and Josh have reported for the last few weeks. You know anything about them?”
    The one-shoulder lift again, and Ryan had to give him credit for not lying outright, at least. “You know how much those windows cost? Bet your parents are going to love paying for those.”
    Nick got pale and finally looked up, locking his gaze on Ryan. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the windows. And for the other stuff.”
    “Have a lot of money stuffed under your