Well, it looked like the quiet librarian was just as kinky as everyone had predicted and just as shy as expected judging by the not-so-quiet pep talk he was giving himself. “It’s just toys and nosy neighbors. That’s not scary.”

I liked him, even though shy and slightly skittish wasn’t my thing, and it was nice to see a familiar face, so I stepped closer and tried to make him laugh. “I happen to think the neighbors are scary, so don’t feel bad.”

Fuck.

The way he jumped and whirled around in the entrance said I hadn’t been as loud as I’d thought I’d been. Holding my hands out to my sides, I took a step back and did my best not to look like I was about to hold him up at a bank robbery or steal his wallet.

Most of the locals knew I was safe, but newbies always panicked first and asked questions later. “Sorry. I said hello but now I realize you didn’t hear me.”

The librarian relaxed as soon as he realized who I was, recognition quickly showing in his eyes as he let out a breath. “I was talking to myself and panicking too much. I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember his name?” One of the wonderfully fascinating locals was right outside my office window, but I wasn’t sure who it was just yet. There were a few of them that seemed to be related and all sounded a lot alike, but if I peeked, they’d realize I could hear them.

Being curious and doing my best to be subtle about it was the classic rock and hard place in this area.

“I just call him Mr. Librarian. It’s polite.”

I knew that one.

It was the deputy’s Kenzie.

He was funny and actually telling the truth…he always called me Mr. Librarian.

“Driving all over the fucking mountains just to ask random fucking insane people if they’d happened to see a truck full of gold just lying around where it didn’t belong.” I couldn’t stop grumbling as I drove around the curve in the mountain because it’d been a long-ass fucking day. “Because that makes perfect sense and that’s how police work is done when everyone knows everyone else.”

Sure it fucking was.

And no, the idiots I worked with in the sheriff’s office didn’t know everyone in the entire goddamned Blue Ridge Mountains—but it sure felt like I’d been driving over the whole fucking thing.
Just go around and ask nicely. It’s time you met a few more of the locals, buddy.

“There is no way I’m still in the right state, much less the same fucking county where I actually work.” But fuck if anyone would actually point out the goddamned boundaries. “But nooo, it’s all very normal.”

Bullshit.

Nothing about the job worked like it did anywhere else in the fucking US, and the only boundaries seemed to be where the aliens stopped and the normal clueless variety of humans were actually living. That got more and more obvious every time I turned around because the FBI didn’t casually make phone calls asking local sheriffs to poke around for missed armored trucks.