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down. “He’s not drunk.”
    “Pot? Blow?”
    She shrugged.
    “Meth?”
    “I don’t know, Jonah.”
    “Where’s he getting it?”
    “He won’t say. Obviously.” She straightened her shirt. “Anyway, I’m here.”
    “Need a few minutes to get yourself together?”
    “No.” She smoothed her hands over her short brown hair and fixed him with her quick, sparrow eyes. “Just fill me in.”
    She looked a little green by the time he’d finished, though the bulge in her stomach might account for that. He wondered how long she would wait to tell him. Maternity leave would stretch her finances, especially if Sam was using—unless of course he was producing his own.
    Time to let the raccoons go. He had a string of petty burglaries and an encroaching drug situation that could be related. The worst used to be marijuana possession. Less than an ounce kept it local; more went to the county. Lately worse substances had been creeping in.
    Annexing the Pine Crest development of mansions, golf courses, shops, and amenities east along Kicking Horse Creek—not to mention the soon-to-open ski resort—would raise the population and more than triple the average income if it went through. He hoped, as the council had opined, that the changes would all be for the good. But rising revenues did not guarantee an increase in his staff or budget. All depended on who grabbed first and held on hardest.
    He went to the school, used his key to enter the weight room, pumped iron to the point of fatigue, then showered and let himself out. All the officers had this benefit, a thank-you for the work they did keeping the combination elementary, middle, and high school as safe as any in the state. So far they didn’t have to work too hard, but he’d glimpsed the first stirrings of gang activity and would not allow it a foothold.
    From the early childhood safety programs to middle-school character training and gang awareness courses, he would fight for them. He and his officers served as resources to high-school students and officials in ways he had to believe were making a difference. If he encountered a kid presenting the evidence of abuse that he had, he would not look the other way, no matter who the parents were.
    Things happened despite his vigilance, but he did his best. He might have gone into the job for the wrong reasons, but he was made for it. Even off duty, he could be reached at all times, and everyone knew it. It lent him an aura of omniscience if not omnipotence. A strong presence discouraged mischief, true in spite of the man he’d learned it from.
    A pride of young males mouthed off to one another on a street corner as he approached, then demonstrated exaggerated bonhomie when he drew abreast. Bunch of goons. He raised a hand, and three of them waved. A glance in his rearview caught one of them with a one-finger salute. He could make it an issue, but the kid was only trying to gain stature with the group, not easy at five feet six with a geeky haircut and a mouthful of braces.
    Up ahead, a car rolled past the stop sign, then jerked to a stop when the driver saw his Bronco. Jonah shot him a glance as he passed. The scare of almost getting caught should make the guy respect intersections for a week or two. Redford had only one light, the rest four-way stops. Most people treated the signs like neighbors to nod at.
    He normally ate at home, but tonight he pulled into the back parking lot at Bailey’s Diner. Breathing the exhaust of charred grease and beef juices, he walked around to the front. Behind the see-through, Richie Bailey looked up from scraping the grill and acknowledged him with a chin bob. Jonah raised a hand, then took a seat at a red Naugahyde booth.
    Once upon a time, Richie Bailey had tormented him regularly. Two incarcerations for assault cured his bullying, but you never knew what simmered underneath. Did he take it out on animals in the woods? He looked around the room. Had someone else in there tortured those