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Ever since he and Lila had kissed, they’d kept their communication focused on work and the Snow River case. Bear didn’t understand it, but if that was what Lila wanted, he’d respect it.

The vandalism at the Community had rattled the entire town. It turned out that Oil Can was right. No one wished ill on them. Everyone who came into The Fang wanted to throw out ideas about who could be behind it. And they all had ideas about where Bear should focus.

“You should talk to that new couple that moved into Stony’s old place, that homestead out past the airstrip. Who’d be crazy enough to live next to that noise?” Trader John had barely ordered his usual before launching into his rant of the day. “Think about it. You move here all the way from Seattle, Washington for the peace and quiet, then you buy the loudest goddamn place in the entire Wrangells.”

“A lot of people say it’s louder living next to the river,” Bear pointed out as he poured out a pint of Guinness. Trader John limited himself to alcoholic drinks only on odd days of the week, with Monday marking Day One.

“I say they need investigated.”

Bear set the mug in front of him. “You want me to investigate a young couple who just moved here for pouring corn syrup on the floor of an old train station they probably don’t even know exists? I heard they have a baby. Think they brought the kid with them?”

“You never know with these transplants.” Trader John drank deeply from the mug and smacked his lips. The new espresso machine caught his eye. “What in the asscrack of a hairy moose is that?”

Always had a way with words, did Trader John. “Never heard of an espresso machine?”

“Not out here I haven’t. That’s city gear.”

“You really don’t like change, do you?” Bear patted the shiny new machine, which pleased him more every time he set eyes on it. Lila might not have liked kissing him, but she loved the latte maker.

“I like it in my pocket. Nowhere else.”

“Amen to that.” Martha took the stool next to him and offered him a high-five. “What am I high-fiving? I don’t even know.”

“Then why’d you say ‘amen’?” Trader John frowned as their palms met.

“It’s how I enter conversations midstream. I heard about it on a podcast for socially awkward types like your favorite neighborhood sheep farmer.”

Bear’s lips twitched at that self-deprecating description. In the broad scheme of things, Martha was probably one of the less socially awkward people in Firelight Ridge. She was in her early forties, chatty and kind-hearted. Compare that to the folks who only came out of the forest to sell their furs.

“What’s a podcast?” growled Trader John.

“It’s something you need WiFi to listen to, so don’t you worry about it.” She patted the old man on the shoulder. “It’s an odd day, huh?”

“Thank the sweet lord, yes. Bear got himself an espresso machine. I told Newt it was a mistake to sell to him.” Trader John offered Bear another baleful glare.

“Yes, haven’t you noticed it yet? It’s been here for days. I wonder if you’re like those isolated islanders who couldn’t see ships arriving because they’d never witnessed such a thing before. I heard about that in a podcast too.”

Trader John shifted to the next stool over, then two more just to be safe.

But Martha was clearly in too good a mood to let that affect her.

“I’ll have a double cappuccino, Bear.”

“Sorry, Lila’s the only one who operates that thing.”

“Lila is an angel. Where is she?”

“She’ll be in soon.” Not that he’d been counting the minutes, but her shift was scheduled to start in ten minutes.

“Do you know who made that mess out at the Community yet?”

“Nope. I’m just a bartender.”

“Well, if anyone does, it would be you. Aside from whoever did it, of course. You always have your finger on the pulse. But if you ask me, you should take a good hard look at the Harts’ grandson. My fence butts up against their property and he had the nerve to tell me that I was over the property line. Actually pulled out a GPS to prove it. My fence has been there for fifteen years, solid concrete posts at every corner, steel four foot deep, and I’m not changing any of that now.”

Bear sighed. So that was what was going on. Every grudge in town was fodder for vandalism accusations. “What motive would Hart’s grandson have?”

“Can’t you figure that out? When he comes in here for his next drink, slip him a little extra and see if he cops to it.”

Bear laughed, happy to see Martha give him a wink from smiling gray eyes. He’d always liked Martha, even though he’d turned her down when she’d invited him over a few years ago. She was the salt of the earth, a hard-working woman, someone always ready to lend a hand—probably a lot like him. Maybe that was why he felt no attraction to her, just respect and friendship.

“Just don’t tell anyone I drugged a customer for information.”

“I didn’t hear that.” Nick Perini slid onto the stool that Trader John had vacated.

“You’re still in town.” Bear had heard that he and Charlie were headed out soon.

“Yes, every time we try to leave, something happens.”

“What happened now?”

“It’s Lila.”

Bear’s body stiffened as if someone had just shocked him with a jumper cable. “What about Lila?”

Nick eyed him with amusement. “Lila wants to throw us a goodbye party. Are you okay, Bear?”

Bear grunted, feeling like a damn fool. It threw him off, the fact that Lila was keeping things so “professional” lately. He missed her, missed the days when she’d been so free and easy with him.

“You’re invited, by the way. She wanted me to tell you.”

Why didn’t she tell him herself? Maybe because she didn’t actually want him to come.

“I’ll see,” he murmured. “You drinking today?”

“No, I actually came to talk to you. In private, when you have a chance.”

Martha picked up her tote bag filled with knitting and slid off her stool. “I can take a hint. You boys have your talk. I got places to go, like that corner over there.” She winked at them and strolled over to her usual table, where she was immediately joined by Old Solomon.

“What’s up?” Bear asked Nick as soon as no one was within earshot. Trader John was only two stools away, but everyone knew the hearing in his right ear wasn’t what it used to be.

“The Community hired me to find out who vandalized their space. They said you came out and looked around, but told them that was all you could do.”

“I’m not a cop.”

“Right. Not anymore.”

Bear went still. It figured that Nick would dig up that detail. He was an actual private investigator who had first come to Firelight Ridge on a job, chasing down Charlie Santa Lucia. Now they were in love, but when Nick had first strolled into the bar, he’d been on the hunt, nosing around asking questions. Bear had shut him down then, and he was still wary now. Charlie might be in love with the guy, but Bear knew he was smart and dedicated. He didn’t want him digging up his secrets.

“What’s your point?”

“I came here to give you a head’s up. Something’s not quite right at the Blackbear PD.”

Bear narrowed his eyes at the man. Lila and her friends had all accepted him wholeheartedly after he and Charlie had gotten together. Did that mean he could trust Nick too?

“Explain.”

“When I went out to the train station to survey the scene, Oil Can said they tried to file a police report in Blackbear, and mentioned you to the police. As soon as your name came up, they said you might have tainted the scene so there wasn’t much they could do.”

Bear’s jaw tightened so hard it hurt. “I didn’t touch a damn thing.”

“I believe you. It looked untouched to me.” He slid his phone across the table. “Here, I took a few photos—footprints at the edge of the clearing, that sort of thing.”

Bear looked down at the screen. Sure enough, Nick had found something he hadn’t. “That’s good work. They picked the right guy.”

“I did what I could for them, but I’m leaving town. I wanted to leave these photos with someone who might be able to use them. And I don’t trust the guys in Blackbear.”

Bear met Nick’s steady gaze. He got it. Nick was giving him a vote of confidence. “I’m still not a cop.”

“No, but you have your eye on a lot of things around here. You’re the guy who keeps things on the up-and-up. That’s why…” He seemed to debate with himself before finishing his thought. “That’s why I’m not bothering with them. And you should keep an eye on them. I wouldn’t want you to get caught in a bad situation. It sounds like someone has it in for you.”

Bear grunted. In his opinion, Nick was overstating it. Someone at the Blackbear station—probably Cromwell—had thrown a hissy fit because they didn’t want to haul ass all the way out to Firelight Ridge for a vandalism case. Which was par for the course. Who wanted to drive sixty miles down a gravel road just to interrogate a citizenry who generally didn’t want to talk to the police?

“Just watch your back,” Nick said.

Bear nodded. “Thanks, man. Can I get you something?”

“Nah.” He got to his feet, then cocked his head at the espresso machine. “Unless that thing’s going?”

“Waiting for Lila.”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Lila skipped through the door that led to the prep room. She wore a sweater the color of spring daffodils, and an even brighter smile. Her hair pulled into a puffy knot at the top of her head, with tendrils framing her delicate face. In an instant, the entire atmosphere of the bar changed, the way a shadowed valley came to life when the first rays of the sunrise touched it.

He pulled his gaze back to Nick when the man reclaimed his phone. Nick wore a wry expression as he got to his feet. “I get it, man,” he murmured.

Bear decided that didn’t need any response. His and Lila’s situation was completely different from Nick and Charlie’s. No comparison.