PAIGE STEDLER WALKED up the front stairs to the Eagle’s Rest Police Department and tugged her coat a little closer. It was a chilly fall morning, and an eddy of wind whipped a pile of leaves against the police station front doors. The police chief had called her in as a special request. Everyone knew that Paige was on stress leave, but this wasn’t exactly related to her job as a Social Services agent. Or so the chief had assured her.

She did feel a lot better than she had three weeks ago when she’d had her fifth panic attack while at work. But Paige wasn’t sure what the chief even wanted from her. Here was hoping it was just a form to sign or something like that. She pulled open the front door and headed into the station’s warmth. The receptionist, Ellen, shot her a smile.

“Paige!” the chief’s voice boomed across the office.

Paige returned Ellen’s smile on her way past and headed toward Chief Simpson’s office in the back. The chief was an older man with a potbelly and a demanding stare that softened when he waved to her. He strode across the bull pen and met her halfway.

“Thanks for coming in, Paige,” he said, lowering his voice.

“No problem.” It was only half a lie. “What can I do for you?”

“We have a situation, and I think you’re the person we need. One of our new officers just became guardian of his sister’s newborn, and he’s overwhelmed, to put it mildly. He needs a hand getting used to child care. For a bit. Just while he sorts things out. And since you were on leave...”

As if stress leave were paid vacation!

“Why do you think I’m the only one who can handle it, Chief?” she asked.

“You’re the best,” the chief replied.

“I’m on stress leave,” she countered.

“You’re still the best.” He met her gaze. “And your brother’s worried.”

Paige’s brother, Nathan, was a cop, too, but he was stationed in a small town a couple of hours away. Serving the public was in the Stedler blood...except Paige didn’t seem to have what it took anymore.

“You could ask pretty much anyone to help out with a baby,” Paige said.

“This particular baby is pretty small, and he was born with cocaine in his system. He doesn’t seem to be going through any withdrawal, miraculously enough, but it’s still a touchy case,” he said. “And no one else is available. I did ask around, for the record. If not you, we’re moving on to some local grandmothers who might lend a hand, and I’d rather recommend someone who’s trained in social services. You have...more of the experience that we need, considering this infant’s shaky start.”

“Oh.” Yes, that did make sense. Still...

“Nathan’s not the only one who’s been worried about you,” the chief added with an apologetic shrug. “I know you pretty well, Paige, and I want to help you get back in the saddle. I’m guessing you want that, too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Did you run this past Dana?” Paige asked with a teasing smile. Dana was Chief Simpson’s wife—twenty years his junior, short, slim, and with a mop of curly hair that set off a pair of sparkling eyes. She and Paige had always gotten along.

“No,” he said, but he returned the wry smile. “She would have told

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