“No.” He flashed his team boss a quick grin. “You know how, Sam.” “Not sure that I do. Explain it to me.”

“Sometimes I talk with the lookout at Widow’s Peak. Off-hours. On the

radio.”

“Just to pass the time. Uh-huh.” Sam tilted his chair and rearranged his

booted feet up on top of his desk. He didn’t seem to mind the number his steel toes were doing on all that paperwork. Instead, he contemplated the 1960s popcorn ceiling like it was holding all the answers. “This would be our young female lookout? The only one who isn’t past the age of forty and sporting a dick?”

True enough, but...