Wag More Next Door

1. Luke

ONE

LUKE

“I can’t arrest a crow, Mrs. Wilcox.”

The diminutive woman met my calm assessment with a glare capable of sending me back to fifth-grade art class.

I’ll never live down that glitter-glue incident.

My fingers twitched against the wool of my dress slacks, itching to scrub a hand through my hair. I made a fist and cleared my throat, focusing on maintaining a neutral expression.

Hide the irritation. Never let it show. Stay professional.

I was good at that.

Just another skill I picked up in the military that’d transitioned easily into law enforcement. Besides, it wasn’t Dana Wilcox’s fault I was on edge. That honor was reserved for a certain Karen who was due to check in to my vacation rental this afternoon.

“Why not?” Dana demanded, as though her question was perfectly reasonable. “It’s breaking and entering.”

When the dispatcher alerted me to a break-in on Blue Spruce Lane, I felt almost smug about the delay it’d cause Karen and her check-in.

We’d already spent half the day arguing about the pet policy.

Her insistence that her dog, who failed service dog training, would not be an issue gave me a fucking headache.

What the dispatcher failed to mention was that the 10-62 in progress involved a wild animal.

“The law doesn’t apply to crows.” Some days, being the police chief of my hometown made me feel like I’d lost my damn mind. Still, I maintained my composure.

“Then who’s going to pay for my window?” Dana huffed.

“That’s a great question for your insurance company.”

I stepped onto the front porch, readying myself to face the intruder now that I had a chance to survey the damage on the east side of the house.

It wasn’t the strangest call I’d received since accepting the position as Police Chief of Bluebell Springs roughly three years ago.

Not even in the top five, if I were being honest.

“And tell them what?” Dana continued.

“Tell them what you told me.”

Dana claimed the smaller side window in her living room had been stuck open since this morning.

The crow, not quite small enough to fly straight through it, wedged itself through the gap, and in the process, shimmied the wooden window frame loose.

By the time the creature took flight toward the couch, the window crashed shut, and glass shattered behind it.

I couldn’t arrest the bird, but I could coax it out of her house. At least, I hoped I could. Otherwise, I’d have to call animal control, and I was not in the fucking mood to deal with that guy today.

A crash sounded from inside, and Dana let out a wail.

“Do you have any unsalted peanuts?” I asked, ignoring her outburst for the sake of keeping the bird calm.

“You want a snack at a time like this?” She slapped a hand against her heart as though insulted. I swallowed a smile, damned thing nearly sticking in my throat.

“It’s not for me.”

I nodded at the window, toward the crow currently perched on the back of her floral-patterned couch in the living room. It struck me how oddly normal this was. Hell, this wasn’t even my first call this week about a pesky crow.

“I have a jar in the kitchen. Out on the counter,” she answered. “But if you want them, you’ll have to get them yourself. I’m not going inside until that intruder’s been apprehended.”

I caught a glimpse of the cracked window next door, along with a moving shadow.

No doubt Agnes Mosby spying. Within an hour, half the town would hear an overly dramatized version of events.

I’d wager a killer crow the size of a wolf would make it into the story.

The sooner I got this menace out of Dana’s house, the better.

My phone pinged, the specific chime I reserved for my vacation rental app.

I groaned.

After my last long-term tenants moved out a couple of weeks ago and left behind half-chewed baseboards and doors with bite marks, my buddy Beckett convinced me I’d be better off renting it to tourists. He insisted they could only do so much damage in a few days’ span.

Except my first guest booked a full fucking month.

With the pup that failed training.

I had no qualms with dogs. I loved dogs.

There was still a Wicket-sized hole in my heart I suspected would never fully heal. He’d been my best friend growing up. Every time I considered adopting a new pup, grief sucker-punched me right in the gut before I could go through with it. Someday, I hoped that awful feeling would weaken.

Until then, I got my dog fix from Husker, my sister’s pup. Even if the blond husky did shed like it was his life’s mission, his heart was in the right place.

I gingerly pulled open the front screen door, stepping across the threshold with an eye for alternate exits. I kept the large crow in my sightline. Far as I could tell, it didn’t appear to be injured. No blood, not favoring a leg. In fact, it looked right at home atop Dana’s floral-patterned couch.

My boot caught on the runner rug with my second step, and the bird raised its tucked wings in warning as it watched me.

“Be careful!” Dana shrieked, startling the bird further. It let out a warning caaaaw as it flapped its wings wide. The lamp beside the couch wobbled at the contact of rustled feathers.

Dana gasped, not at all quiet about it. As though the bird had just insulted her prize-winning chili.

“Mrs. Wilcox, I need you to remain calm,” I said over my shoulder, my tone even as the lamp settled. I kicked the upturned corner of the rug back into place. “Can you do that for me?”

“Only if that rascal doesn’t break my Pairpoint lamp. Dennis bought that for me on our fortieth wedding anniversary.”

She sounded less afraid now and more like she might march inside and take a broom to the bird.

It was a good thing I left animal control out of this matter.

That surly man would probably insist I take Dana away in handcuffs for making an implied threat.

That argument could easily eat away an afternoon.

The crow eyed me as I moved into the house, headed for the kitchen. It might’ve been curious or it might’ve been plotting my demise; it was anyone’s guess.

My phone pinged again, twice this time.

“Come the fuck on,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” Dana asked from the front porch. The ears of a teacher never lose their superhuman strength.

“Nothing, Mrs. Wilcox. Stay there, please.”

I considered, not for the first time since my irritating tenant started blowing up my phone, whether I should sell the duplex and buy a single cabin with a view of the lake.

One perched atop a hill so I at least had some warning if someone wanted to disturb my peace.

Though it was nice to have my mortgage payment covered, I was nearly at my limit for dealing with renters.

What once seemed like a wise business decision now seemed more like a headache I couldn’t shake.

Several pings came through rapid fire, and my boot caught on the opposite corner of the runner rug. For the second time, I nearly stumbled forward. My palm caught the staircase banister, but the intruder was not amused.

The bird hopped off the back of the couch and onto the middle cushion, tracking my every movement.

Dana muttered a whole host of curses from the porch about the cost of replacing custom fabrics.

I pressed my lips together to hide my smile.

The woman lacked a filter, freely expressing her opinions to anyone and everyone without a second thought to holding them back.

But it took a lot to truly piss this woman off.

The crow had managed it. I couldn’t decide whether I liked the bird better for it or not.

To say the Dana Wilcoxes of Bluebell Springs were a thorn in my side was the understatement of the century. But my vow to serve and protect the citizens of this mountainside town included all of them, no matter how eccentric, meddlesome, or irritating. And this town had them all.

At last, I spotted the jar of peanuts on the kitchen counter amid an array of canned goods and produce from a fresh grocery trip. The lid rested beside the canister. Had Dana been enjoying a snack before a bird crashed through her living room window?

The sightline from the broken window to the kitchen counter was clear and direct. Coincidence? Doubtful.

I’d no sooner reached for the canister than the crow appeared in the doorway, its head tilted. It reminded me of a dog expecting a treat. As though it’d been looking for the peanuts all along.

I tossed a single unsalted nut, and it landed at the bird’s feet.

The crow quickly snatched it up, then looked at me expectantly.

“You like these, huh?”

Light on my booted feet, I shuffled backward, headed for the door through the laundry room off the kitchen. I tossed another peanut, this one a few feet farther into the kitchen, and the crow leapt toward it.

My phone pinged again as I pressed my back against the screen door to open it, and the bird stilled. I didn’t dare reach into my pocket to silence it, despite the multiple chimes in a row. Not now. Not when I was so close to convincing the feathered creature to exit the premises.

“Ignore that,” I insisted, never taking my eyes off the bird. We were friends as long as the peanuts kept coming and I didn’t accidentally threaten it in any way. But each time my damn phone made a noise, the bird hesitated and bristled.

I could relate.

Another series of pings, and the crow fluttered his wings. It backed up, its dark, beady eyes trained on me, and let out an irritated caaaw.

I considered canceling the reservation on the spot, despite the money I’d lose for doing it.

With the autumn season just starting, I had little doubt someone else would snatch up the rental.

It would sure as hell save me a headache—and likely a set of baseboards.

No way her dog was as well behaved as she claimed.

The rapid-fire messages promised the pair was nothing short of mayhem I didn’t fucking need.

“Here,” I said to the bird, pouring a handful of peanuts into my palm and lowering it so it could see. It studied the treats with renewed interest. “You can have them all. Just don’t break anything.” I pulled the screen door open and tossed the nuts into the backyard.

The crow took flight, knocking over a basket filled with clothespins as it whooshed by. The second it was outside, I yanked the door closed and let out a sigh of relief. Fuck, that was more work than it should’ve been.

I returned to the kitchen and searched for anything I might use to cover the broken window before the bird was tempted to become a repeat offender. My gaze snagged on the array of ingredients on the counter—tomatoes, a variety of beans, bell peppers, onions, and bulbs of garlic.

“Chief?” Dana called from the porch.

“All clear,” I announced, mentally taking inventory of the groceries.

Dana Wilcox was the three-time champion of the Golden Days chili cookoff. The secret to her success was likely on this counter. Was it really cheating if the secret to her repeated success was in plain sight? I hadn’t even decided if I was entering this year.

My phone pinged three times in a row, and I was overcome with the urge to toss it through the broken window. I clenched and unclenched my fist.

“Is the menace gone?” she asked.

“Yes. If you can find a piece of cardboard to tape over the window, I’ll give my buddy Beckett Campbell a call. He should be able to get you an estimate for your insurance company.”

My sister Kira would probably skin me alive for interrupting the book club’s special meeting with such a request. They were discussing her brand-new book, one that wasn’t released yet. I only knew that because I ran into the happy couple hardly an hour ago.

Which reminded me, I needed to track down Beckett’s grandma, Pauline, to have a chat about the bounty hunter she hired.

One who’d caught the woman who robbed my father clean.

After months of trying to track down the culprit without any luck, it sounded too good to be true.

But with Margene Miller sitting in a Mexican jail cell awaiting extradition, getting in touch with Pauline wasn’t high up on the priority list.

Another ping, and I decided Pauline would have to wait.

But Dana needed plywood to cover that window until she could arrange having the glass pane replaced.

“You’ll need to cover that window until you can coordinate replacing—”

Another ping.

“You have a call, Chief?”

Dana pressed her palms against the counter near the sink and lifted on tiptoes to spy into her backyard. “That crow’s having a feast. Did you leave any peanuts for me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No matter. You can replace the jar tomorrow. The Grizzly has them on special this week. That’s why I had some on hand. Lucky that.”

Yeah, lucky that. I stared absently at the groceries splayed across her counter, but I couldn’t seem to process what I was seeing due to my growing irritation. So much for cracking the code to her prize-winning chili.

“You better go, Chief,” Dana said suddenly, as though catching me spying at her ingredients. She shooed me toward the door with the broom she’d acquired from the laundry room, making me feel as though I was now the intruder. “You best take that call. It sounds important.”

“But—”

Dana shoved me out the front door. “I’ll give my son a call to cover the window until Mr. Campbell can make it over.”

“If you need—” I was interrupted by two additional pings. Dana waved her fingers at me before shutting the door in my face.

I let out a heavy sigh, wondering how the day had gone so damn sideways.

I let dispatch know the call was handled, and then, without an excuse to put it off any longer, headed the few short blocks toward my duplex to face my new tenant and her obedience school dropout.