Until Sunday morning at Miller’s Diner.
The place smelled of bacon grease, burnt toast, and old coffee.
Brianna took the corner booth with her back to the wall.
Kodiak settled beneath the table.
His leash looped neatly around her hand.
A waitress brought water.
“You’re new around here.”
“Just passing through.”
Then the bell over the door rang.
The room changed.
A broad-shouldered man in a sheriff’s uniform entered.
Gray at the temples.
Hard eyes.
He didn’t say anything at first.
He didn’t need to.
The waitress stopped smiling.
A couple at the counter looked down.
Kodiak lifted his head.
The leash tightened less than an inch.
Rusk noticed.
His eyes moved from Kodiak to Brianna.
“You’re in my town now. Keep that mutt in line, or I will.”
Brianna didn’t answer.
Rusk walked closer.
“He’s not bothering anyone,” she said.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
For a second, only the refrigerator hummed.
Rusk leaned toward her.
“People who come here thinking they know better usually learn fast.”
