The door creaks softly as you step into the sheriff’s office, the faint hum of activity meeting your ears. The space feels alive but not chaotic—phones ringing in the background, papers shuffling, and a low murmur of voices. You make your way to the front desk, where a woman with a sharp, no-nonsense air is sorting through a pile of paperwork.

“Excuse me,” you say, your accent gently coloring your words, “I’m looking for the sheriff?”

Before she can respond, a voice cuts in from nearby, deep and casual but commanding enough to draw your attention.

“Well, you found him.”

You glance to the side as a man strides in, a coffee cup in one hand and a confident ease in his step. He’s wearing a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, a hint of dust on his boots suggesting he’s either just come from a case or spent too much time outside. He tosses a glance at the woman behind the desk—Denise—who smirks faintly as if she saw this coming.

Beau shifts his attention to you, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What can I do for you?”