Page 90 of Rules

"My son."

Her eyebrow rose as she locked eyes with me, "Your son called the Police Commissioner and reported you?"

"No," I put my hands up. "It's not like that. See, Clark is Tim's Godfather and Uncle. Clark and I have been buddies since the academy. We were each other's best man at our weddings." I found myself explaining more than I wanted to.

"Seems there must have been a reason to talk about you. And from the conversation with your son the Commissioner must have thought you would benefit from us meeting. He has always believed in addressing psychological factors before they become problematic."

I wasn't sure what to say, I knew Clark's stand on mental health and I agreed with it. But I felt that if I said that this doctor would have me laid out on a couch talking about my parents.

"I'll be direct, Sheriff. I've reviewed your files. You have an exemplary record. I've also reviewed the reports about your recent cases: the trafficked women, the escaped suspect who is wanted by the FBI, murder victims, and the ongoing break-ins. You haven't dealt with crime of that magnitude in your small town before. That's an exceptional amount of stress for any department, let alone one your size."

"We're managing." My tone was clipped.

"I'm sure you are. But the Commissioner's concern, which I share, is that you're carrying too much of this burden personally." She leaned forward slightly. "You're a widower aren't you?"

I fought myself not to shift in my seat. "You read my reports, so, you know I am."

"When was the last time you slept through the night?"

That question caught me off guard. I'd expected inquiries about procedures, protocols, department morale. Not something so personal. And the truth was, I couldn't remember my last good night's sleep.

"I'm fine," I said instead.

Dr. Salinger's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes suggested she saw right through me.

"Sheriff Trenton, may I call you Tobias?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"Tobias, I've worked with law enforcement officers for over thirty years. I recognize signs. The question isn't whether you're managing, which I'm sure you believe you are. The question is at what cost."

"With all due respect, Dr. Salinger—"

"Eva, please."

"Eva?" Not in a million years would I have guessed that was her first name. She nodded her head. "My primary concern iscatching a killer and stopping a crime spree. My personal well-being is secondary."

She studied me for a moment. "And is that what Joan would want?" The mention of my wife's name felt like a physical blow. She said simply. "This is a lot to manage on your own."

"I'm fine," I said stiffly.

"Tell me about your deputies. Any concerns?"

"None, not one concern. We're a family." I went through the list including Holly giving everyone of them such a glowing review I felt I should hand out raises when I got back.

"Interesting." She nodded. "Let's talk about more recent events, then. The Commissioner mentioned you haven't dated since your wife passed. And your concerns regarding a potential new personal relationship."

Oh, I'm going to get him for this. "That's not relevant to my job performance."

"Isn't it? If your personal anxieties are affecting your professional decisions, I'd say that's quite relevant."

I remained silent, unwilling to give her an opening into that particular area. The women in my personal life were off-limits.

Dr. Eva seemed unperturbed by my silence. She simply waited, her blue eyes steady on mine. The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable, but I refused to break first.

Finally, she shifted strategy. "Tell me about these break-ins."

This, I could handle. I outlined the progression, the escalating violence, the calculated destruction that seemed aimed more at creating fear than achieving profit.

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