A deputy walked past his window, eyeing him through the slatted shades.
The phone speaker pressed to his ear scratched. “Sir? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Sheriff Domino is not available right now, and he’s not answering his cell phone. It’s very shoddy reception around here, I’ll tell you. I would say I could raise him on the radio, but he’s up fishing with some friends in Idaho and not due back until Monday. But I can give you his office voicemail, which I know he checks regularly, even though he’s gone. He may be catching trout, but he’ll probably return your call.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
He was connected, and tagged Sheriff Domino in their marathon game.
He took some time perusing the new emails that had come in. It had been days and he was sure whatever servers that were holding his unread emails were bursting at the seams.
Swiveling to the window, he looked out at the rain drenching the valley for the umpteenth day in a row. Now that Jack was part of the fire department over in Carbondale, he felt a new gratitude for rain. But he also knew the weather could turn relentlessly dry overnight, sticking around for months on end. The choking, smoke-spitting blazes could ignite again, threatening the ever-growing population of the Colorado Rockies and the firefighters who fought them. It was not a matter of if, but when.
On that note, he thought of the fire he’d ignited with Deputy Cain up in Edwards a few hours earlier. Not the good kind of flames, either.
He scrolled to her phone number and stared at it.
“He’s playing with his phone?” A booming voice in the doorway made him flinch.
Will MacLean stood inside his office with arms wide, as if presenting the conclusion of a magic trick.
“You’re here,” Wolf said with a smile, an edge of relief in his voice as he pocketed his phone.
They hugged one another, MacLean slapping him on the back.
MacLean now had the body of a different man, and Wolf’s arms easily wrapped around him. Where the former sheriff had once been soft, muscle now rippled beneath his clothing.
They pushed away from one another and Wolf stared at him. When Wolf had last seen MacLean, the former sheriff had been at least sixty or seventy pounds heavier, with a pasty complexion, sunken eyes, and depressed to the point that Wolf wondered if the man had given up on trying to live. Not that Wolf would have blamed him for riding off into the proverbial sunset. They all had to do it at some point.
But now MacLean was thin, almost skinny, but his eyes were full of light, his skin tanned and glowing gold.
“Wow,” Wolf said. “You look…better.”
“I looked that bad before, huh?”
Wolf shrugged.
“I did, I know it.” MacLean gestured to one of the two chairs in front of Wolf’s desk. “May I?”
“Yes. Go ahead. Sit. Please.” Wolf sat down behind the desk. “I feel a bit awkward sitting here, when you’ll be taking over in…what is it now?” Wolf checked his watch. “Thirteen days?”
MacLean smiled warmly, looking Wolf in the eyes. “How are things going?”
Wolf gestured vaguely to the building surrounding them. “Good. But I want to hear about your exploits down in Mexico. Late-stage pancreatic cancer is nothing to thumb your nose at. Seriously. How did you do it?”
MacLean swiped a hand. “Like I said on the phone before, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Magic?”
“Vegetables and coffee enemas,” MacLean said with a straight face. “A lot of meditation and silent contemplation.”
Wolf blinked.
“I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” MacLean said. “So, how’s it going here? I hear you’re doing a decent job at keeping the fort down. The council seems impressed with you.”
“They’re impressed with Patterson,” Wolf said. “I’ve done nothing productive since you left.”
MacLean smiled. “Your proposal with the council made my former self want to puke.”
Wolf shrugged.
“But I liked it,” MacLean said. “You guys will do good with that plan going forward.”
“You’re fine with it? You’ll have to take the training, too.”
“No, I won’t.”
Wolf cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m retiring, Dave.”
The news hit Wolf softly at first, then like a flick in the nose, and then like a drop-kick to the stomach.
“I’m going to collect my pension and fish for the rest of my life.” MacLean stood up and swiped his hands together. “I can see you’re not exactly thrilled with the news.”
The future Wolf had been envisioning, counting on, was exploding inside his head, and at that moment Wolf realized it was outgassing through his open mouth. He closed his lips and nodded. “Okay.”
“Damn right. It’s better than okay. I’m excited to wake up without a care in the world for once.” MacLean walked to the window and looked out. “No offense, but I will not miss this view. And I’ve already informed Margaret of my change of plans, in case you’re wondering.”
“Okay.”
MacLean walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Dave.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s really good to see you.”
Wolf nodded. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“I’m sorry if I got your hopes up,” MacLean said.
Wolf said nothing.
“After I called you in February, you know what? I started feeling shitty again. I could feel the stress building, breaking down my insides, as I thought about coming back to the job.” He looked hard into Wolf’s eyes. “Dave.”
“What.”
“Don’t let it happen to you.” MacLean pushed his face close to his. “Don’t let the stress take over. Delegate. Lean on those surrounding you.” He turned around, knocking on Wolf’s desk as he walked out. “Let’s have lunch sometime soon.”
“Sounds good.” Wolf’s eyes glossed over as he stared through the material universe.
A moment later, two soft knocks hit his door. “Sir?”
He looked to see Charlotte Munford-Rachette poking her head inside, holding a packet of papers in her hand.
“Hi, um, is this a bad time?”
“No. Please, come in.”
She entered, narrowing her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. What’s up?” He held out his hand and she passed
