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donuts, a couple popovers, and a loaf of rosemary sourdough. My mouth watered as I inhaled the sweet, buttery smells of the shop, and my stomach grumbled.
    When had I last eaten? Dinner? Lunch? Vending machine?
    I made a mental note to catch at least one solid meal a day. The rally would keep me running, but that was no excuse not to eat.
    I devoured an apple fritter and a cinnamon cruller on the way to the station and was in a much better mood. If I could land a hot cup of coffee, I’d count this day as a win.
    Dawn crept over the Coastal Range, the heavy wing shadow of the hills pulling slowly away from the ocean and shoreline like a curtain revealing the stage.
    The station was still in shadow, a one-story building on the south side of Easy River, tucked back off the main road and surrounded on two sides by an empty lot that had gone to forest.
    Three cars were in the parking lot, one of them Jean’s truck, but Myra’s cruiser wasn’t among them. I wondered if she was getting photos of the crime scene, or more likely, still trying to get Dan Perkin to cool down.
    I strolled through the front door and dropped the two boxes of pastries on Jean’s desk, right between her Snape bobblehead doll and Dr. Orpheus figurine.
    “Donuts,” I announced. “Stop telling everyone in town I don’t feed you.”
    Jean was the youngest of the Reed girls, and arguably the most cheerful.
    While my hair was brown, and Myra kept her hair black, Jean’s hair was whatever color she wanted that morning. Current preference? Purple and blue with a streak of red in the front, all of it braided down behind both ears. She’d somehow inherited our grandmother’s blonde hair naturally—which, according to her, made it perfect for dying—and her blue eyes were deep and dark, like Mom’s.
    “Holy crap! You finally brought me donuts!”
    “Among other things.”
    Jean stood and opened the box lids, grinning. “Aw…you remembered the maple cayenne sea-salt bars. You’re my hero.”
    “Oh?” I stopped by the table with the coffee pot and poured a cup of overcooked coffee. “I heard Hogan was your hero.”
    I watched her out of the corner of my eye.
    She was stuffing the maple cayenne abomination in her mouth and paused, her thin body still as she stared at me.
    The only thing that could freeze my sister like that was the truth.
    Wow. So she did like him.
    I turned, stirring the sugar cubes with a plastic spoon.
    Jean was all grin around a mouthful of pastry. She swallowed and dropped back into her chair, waving her hand in front of her lips. Those bars were spicy. “Do not know what you’re talking about. He has a great ass though, and the arms on him? Big, thick. Rock solid. Sexy. Gives a girl unclean thoughts.”
    “Ryder said you drooled when baker boy sauntered by you.”
    “Damn right I did. Have you seen that man?”
    “Once or twice.”
    “Then you know I’m not the only girl in town who drools over him.” She shoved the rest of the pastry in her mouth and chewed, watching me. “So, Ryder, huh? I thought you were avoiding him.”
    I stifled a groan. Why had I even brought him into the conversation? “Not avoiding. Just giving him space.”
    “He’s been in town a year, Delaney. That’s plenty of space.”
    I walked over to my desk, around the corner in a recess where I was out of direct line of sight but could still see the front door and most of the rest of the small office.
    Unlike Jean’s desk, mine was clean and spare, with a computer, a document filer, and two phones taking up the surface. One phone was part of the switchboard and emergency call system. The other—old-style black brick of a thing with a rotary dial—was a direct line from a special room at the casino.
    “And now we’re going to forget I mentioned him,” I said.
    “Why would we do that?” Jean followed me to my desk. “Anything you’re avoiding that hard is like catnip to me. You know that.”
    I did know that. I leaned forward, rubbed one