Castleton Police Department

  The sun has barely risen when Dave storms into the operations room. The deputy's chubby face is beet red. He looks ready to snap the neck of anyone who dares defy him. Detective Mackey points to the chair opposite his desk.

  "Have a seat, Deputy Newsome. I've got coffee and donuts all ready for you. There's also a couple of slices of old pizza in the fridge, if you want that as well," Mackey says with an ironic smile.

  Deputy Newsome grips the chair Mackey indicated and spins it around. He plops down on it, glaring at Detective Mackey with vengeful eyes.

  "You enjoy being a stereotype, don't you? Coffee connoisseur, donut devourer, pizza purveyor. What other caricatures are you attempting to embody, Detective Mackey? Do they teach you all of that in the big city? While the rest of us are learning how to conduct real police work?" Newsome growls angrily.

  Mackey is unfazed by Newsome's anger. He blinks slowly and then takes a sip of his warm coffee. Reaching across the table, James snags a donut with his right index finger. He nibbles on it while leaning back in his chair, smirking over the donut's edge at the fuming deputy.

  "I'm not a stereotype, Dave. I just know what I like," Mackey says in a calm voice. "And it makes the families of the victims smile when I offer them a donut out of a fresh box. They like the image. Anything I can do, to make a grieving mother smile. After she's just lost her whole world...Her little baby...Is good enough for me. It should be good enough for you too, Dave."

  "You're serious?" Dave questions, brow creasing deeply.

  "I'm serious, Dave. The first case I was on...This was some years ago...A woman lost her only child to a fatal overdose. Her daughter was only thirteen. She'd been bullied excessively and wanted out of her life. Turns out, the bullies gave her the pills. Told her to go kill herself. I found that little nugget by offering some pizza to one of the girls responsible. There I was, nibbling on a piece of pepperoni pizza. I told her I hadn't eaten that day. Which was a lie, but I like to eat. Opened the box on my hood and offered her a piece. The bully took it, nibbled on it, and broke down. Told me everything I needed to know. How they had obtained the pills, how long the bullying had been going on for, and how they'd convinced little Angela...That was her name...To take the pills. Each of the girls was charged. All five of them. The girl who talked received house arrest. The rest, went to juvie. Angela's mother and I shared a pizza and some coffee the night those girls were convicted. Homemade. She said she wanted to spoil me out of gratitude. I've never looked back. If I have to be a television stereotype to get results...That's fine by me. You should understand that, Dave."

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  "Compelling story, James. But you forgot one thing," Dave retorts, shooting Mackey an incredulous stare. "Did you read her rights to her before or after the confession?"

  "She wasn't in custody yet, Dave. You know how this works. But yes, I did. As soon as she stated she wanted to give a confession. I made it very clear...I would be taking her into custody at that time."

  Dave continues to scowl at Detective Mackey but the furrows in his brow lessen. Grabbing the cooling cup of coffee sitting in front of him, Dave takes a sip. Wincing, Dave opens the lid and spits the warm liquid back into the cup. He glowers at James.

  "What the hell is that? Is that hazelnut?" Dave barks.

  Mackey's face falls and he shakes his head.

  "As soon as I took a sip of my coffee, I knew Freddo had messed up. He marked the wrong cup. I was supposed to have hazelnut. You were supposed to have the black coffee. Damn. But...Come on, Dave! Did you have to spit back into the cup? I could've drank that."

  "Oh. Whatever," Dave scoffs, reaching for a glazed donut.

  "I brought breakfast because I have some even worse news," James says, flipping his rolodex. "I've been in touch with Bridget's mother. Mr. Davis has passed away. He went into cardiac arrest not long after being told his daughter was our first victim. He didn't last long after EMS resuscitated him. Mrs. Davis is flying in tomorrow, to view Bridget's remains and make arrangements. While also making plans to bury her husband."

  "Dammit!" Dave roars, pulverizing the donut in his hand and then dropping it back into the box. "The son of a bitch has claimed another life! Damn it!"

  "Sadly, you are correct. I don't know how a woman copes with something like this. I've seen seasoned officers lose it when their loved one dies in a simple car accident. How do you cope with someone carving up the one you love? I'll tell you, Dave. I've seen all kinds of things. This maniac...He's not like other monsters I've dealt with. He has to have knowledge of the area. Extensive knowledge. How does he get the bodies into position without anyone seeing him? He knows exactly what routes to take, what times to be there, and how to avoid detection. And he's very thorough. I hate this guy, Dave. I want him dead. But I'll settle for clapping him in irons."

  Finally, Dave stares across the desk and sees the true Detective James Mackey. Not the persona which Mackey wears to cope. The real man inside the detective. The man who will do anything for the sake of justice.

  "Michael Blaine called," Mackey says, peering sidelong at Dave. "He wanted to thank us for the professional way we've handled what happened to Rose. He sent something along with a bouquet of flowers. It was marked for you."

  Mackey reaches in his desk and removes a four-by-six photo. It is a photograph of Rose smiling at the gym. The same gym where she disappeared. Dave takes the photo of the late Rose Perry and reads the message, pain tearing at his heart:

  ??????????????????????????????

  To: Deputy Newsome,

  "I loved Rose. She was my everything."

  Signed,

  Michael F. Blaine.

  ??????????????????????????????

  Dave looks up from the photo, fresh tears in his eyes. Mackey simply nods with understanding.

  "Honey, Dave. Honey."