For years, Belmont, New Hampshire, had only one detective: Raechel Moulton. An age-old mill city of 7, 200 parties, Belmont is surrounded by lakes and woodlands but isn’t itself much of a gather for the sightseers who slew to the region every summer. A equipment storage and lounge are about all Main Street has to offer; the biggest employer in town is a Shaw’s supermarket. At the police department, where Moulton directs, a give casket for Vito, the department’s K-9, is substance with vary and dollar bills. As Moulton describes it, “We don’t have a lot of people that are rolling in the dough.”
Moulton, who is 4 1, grew up about 20 miles away, in Concord, the state fund. Her mother managed a Walmart and her father amended power-line transformers. She was a bold kid, the oldest of three, and would stride up to uniformed police officers to ask them about the things on their regions. When she was in the fifth grade, an officer came to her institution to run a drug-awareness course. That’s when she decided she was going to be a cop.