After an hour’s wait by the roadside, Tim Jamieson watched a long, slow freight train roll toward DuPray, its varied cars and an orange caboose with a reading man underscoring the town’s rural, timeworn feel. When the crossing cleared, Tim walked into DuPray, a small county seat with a handful of independent shops, a closed Western Auto, a “For Sale or Rent” movie theater, several churches, and light foot traffic.

Tim noted the DuPray Motel up the street, the rail depot beyond, and the pine woods closing in on the far side of town. The motel’s rusty sign suggested disrepair, but it looked like his only lodging option as afternoon waned, so he headed that way.

Passing the Fairlee County Sheriff’s Department, Tim noticed two parked cruisers—one newer sedan and an older, muddy 4Runner—and stopped at the entrance notice boards. Among standard postings, a sign reading “NIGHT KNOCKER WANTED. APPLY WITHIN.” surprised him, striking him as anachronistic.

Tim hesitated between continuing to the motel and pursuing the job posting. As he lingered, a lanky, red-haired officer stepped out, assessed Tim’s travel-worn clothes and duffel, and asked if he could help.

Feeling the same impulsive streak that had led him to give up his airline seat earlier, Tim replied, “Probably not, but who knows?” leaving the door open to a conversation about the unusual job and his next move.