Danny Jessup, his boss and chief of police, walked past him, pausing to take a sip from his ever-present coffee cup. He exchanged a look over the rim, catching Carter’s shrug. His phone vibrated with a message. He pulled it out, noting that Wyatt informed him he’d just arrived. Carter texted back, “Can’t now—on duty. Meet you later.” The press walked around, getting interviews from the guests. The air buzzed with excitement, like opening night. Carter laughed. It was like the friggin’ Oscars, he snorted to himself. Jessup’s deep-set eyes watched him intently. He was just past forty, and his love of burritos showed on his waistline. He hitched his pants and nodded. “Kids?” “Yep. They’ve arrived. Yours?” Jessup shook his head. “Nope. Told them I didn’t want them here. Don’t want distractions.” Carter nodded. “Mine got special invitations.” “You could have said no.” Carter cocked his head. “What, and be the evil stepfather? No thanks. I’m still working on getting them to play ball with me.”
