Page 56 of Anchor Point

Then I shook it off and went to face my next challenge of the day.

“Chief Hawkins, this budget request is ridiculous.” Mr. Bloom was sounding more and more like Mayor Smith, and neither of them were supportive now that I was settling into my role. “The city manager’s office cannot present an increase this large.”

He shoved the document away, the spiral ring scraping against the conference table. He’d probably scratched the glossy surface of the ostentatious table.

I’d come to hate the conference room at city hall and the man sitting across from me. He and the mayor represented every man who had ever pushed me down and held me back. Every time I’d come here, they’d acted like I was beneath them.

“I respect your position, Sir. However, please note the chart on page two of the section titled Support.” I flipped the pages in my own report and began reading out statistics. “The proposed budget merely represents an increase from the current budget. However, if you look at the reference years, the proposed budget is in fact equivalent to that year. I am requesting for our budget to be restored to the former level. I noted during my research that the grounds and beautification division increase last year is the exact amount that was removed from the fire department. Certainly, the citizens will appreciate their fire service as much as having flowerpots lining the downtown sidewalks.”

Across from me, Bloom’s face grew red. I’d done my research. I knew that he was the reason for the transfer of the budget and that his wife’s florist supplied all the flowers and had won the contract for maintenance. That deal was worth quite a bit of money, especially for a florist who had been small time and operated mainly from their household until they were “lucky” enough to win the city contract.

“You’ll notice that most of the increase is all local match on grant funding that I’m seeking to secure. Which means more bang for our buck.” I had zero faith he would understand without a clear breakdown. But calling out the grounds contract had earned his attention, and he began flipping through the rest of my proposal. I didn’t want him to be the same “yes man” that I’d met in every administration I’d worked in.

“Sir, if I may be frank, I don’t want us to be adversaries.” I tapped the document in front of me. “I want an advocate, a supporter, an ally in making the fire department the best it could be for the citizens. I’ve spoken to Public Safety Foundation. I’ve made a few connections. And I’m willing to work hard to find the funding we need. But the simple fact of the matter is, if you restore our budget, we can work toward improving our ISO rating, which will mean lower insurance costs for the citizens, which means they are happy with the leaders they’ve elected to govern their community.” The reelection of said leaders, I left implied.

“Thank you for your proposal, Chief Hawkins. The budget team will review, and you’ll be allowed a chance at rebuttal if they determine any changes need to be made.”

He ushered me to the door, and I clipped down the hall, not knowing if he was on my side or not.

“Hey, Chief, here’re your messages.” Cathy handed me a stack of Post-it notes once I got back to headquarters. I flipped through them, heading into my office.

Between the notes and the blinking voicemail indicator, I had hours’ worth of calls to return and a late night ahead of me.

My head was throbbing and my eyes burned as I pressed play on the last message.

“Stop the investigation, you stupid cunt.”

The message was less than three seconds long.

A blip, where time seemed to stand still.

And when reality returned, the hair on the back of my neck stood and my heart thundered.

“Cathy!”

She barreled around the door.

“Get Harrison on the phone and let him know his arsonist left me a voicemail. Find out what buttons he pushed.”

I picked up the phone and dialed the back line I had for the chief of police. “Chief Dennis, I received a message from the subject of our arson investigation.”

By midafternoon, it was determined that the call had been placed from somewhere in Oregon. More than a day’s drive or a half day of air travel away. The PD determined that due to the distance, it was an empty threat. So when Rosie called and asked permission to stay the night at her friend Shae’s house so they could binge-watch their latest TV series after the football game, I agreed. Mainly because Shae’s father was a police officer. I didn’t mention the call to Rosie, but I did update Shae’s dad.

By the time I pulled up at Mac’s, exhaustion lay heavy in my bones. Nighttime had fallen, and a chorus of summer bugs serenaded my journey up the porch steps. Buster greeted me when I pushed through the door.

I dropped my things on the table and kicked off the blasted high heels right inside the front door. I normally tried to keep my things tidy and organized, especially since we were guests at Mac’s. But tonight, I just couldn’t find it in me to care.

Dim lamplight illuminated the den, spilling over and throwing the kitchen into shadows. I rounded the corner and lost the last of my capacity to function.

Mac lay on the couch, one arm behind his head, propping him up, and one leg stretched out, the other bent, resting against the back of the couch. He’d been reading a book.

The whole vision of him was so mouthwateringly sexy, I couldn’t help myself. I gave in to temptation and let my gaze linger on his bare feet, his faded jeans. The white unbuttoned shirt that fell open, exposing his bare chest.

The book that lay face down there.

The reading glasses he held in his hand, propped on his hip.

The tousled salt-and-pepper hair.

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