Davis residence

  Home of the late Bridget Davis

  Dave reaches up a large hand to knock, but the inner door is yanked open before he can. Tyler Davis, Bridget's twelve year old son, opens the screen and peers up at Dave and Detective Mackey. After a moment, he turns and looks into the house.

  "Dad! It's Detective Mackey and Deputy Newsome. I think they've caught the bad guy!"

  Dave opens his mouth to respond, but James puts a hand against his right forearm. Detective Mackey shakes his head in a negatory fashion. 'Let the kid believe that for now', Mackey's expression says. What they have to discuss with Mr. Davis is not for sensitive ears.

  Mr. Davis appears behind his enthusiastic son. He places a shaking hand on Tyler's shoulder and peers out at the two officers. The grieving widower's face is drawn and pale, dark circles making his eyes look painted. It is obvious he has experienced many a sleepless night.

  "Is that true? Have you caught the murderer?" Mark asks, hope in his voice.

  Detective Mackey steps forward and grips the edge of the screen door.

  "Mr. Davis, it might be better if we spoke inside. Away from the child."

  "No. No," Mr. Davis protests, shaking his head. "Tyler's old enough to understand what's going on. I want him to know what that monster did to his mother. I want him to know why...Why she can't be with us anymore. You can explain that better than I can."

  "My partner is right, Mr. Davis," Dave says, making eye contact with the harried father. "It would be best if we spoke with you alone."

  Detective Mackey arches an eyebrow at Dave's use of the word 'partner'. There's a first time for everything. Mr. Davis nods silently and motions with his head toward the front yard.

  "Tyler, why don't you go over to the Graham's house while I speak with these fine officers?"

  Tyler places a hand on his hip and glowers up at his father. He shakes his head with an angry pout.

  "Nuh-uh, Dad. You always said I was a man in this house! I want to know what's going on too. She was my mother."

  After days of trying to maintain his cool, Mark's frustration boils over. He points toward the yard with a shaking right index finger.

  "Now, Tyler! I won't tell you again!"

  "No, Dad!" Tyler yells, rearing up on his tiptoes. "She was my mom! I'm not going!"

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  Deputy Newsome nudges Detective Mackey aside ever so slightly. He opens the screen door even wider and reaches a hand out to Tyler. The kid looks down at Dave's hand and then up at his face. He seems unsure of what Dave wants.

  "Come with me, kid. Just you and me. Let me talk to you."

  A tiny wistful smile tugs at the edges of Detective Mackey's mouth. Who knew Dave had it in him?

  "Okay," Tyler says, lowering his head.

  Taking Deputy Newsome's hand, Tyler allows himself to be led away. Dave surprises James again when he lifts Tyler up and place him on the hood of his beloved pickup. Detective Mackey watches them for only a few seconds, before entering the Davis house--in order to pass on more terrible news.

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  Castleton Police Department

  Lounge

  "Hi. You've reached Hazel Northrop. If it's Dad, I love you. If it's Will, get lost. Anyone else, you know what to do. Bye."

  Dave listens to Hazel's voicemail message for the fifth time. She has taken to shutting her phone off at night. Most likely to prevent him from calling. Memories of their last night together continue to crowd his brain.

  Hazel had been particularly giving that night--and into the next morning. She'd allowed him to take liberties she had previously rejected. Dave had thought it was some of the best sex they'd ever had.

  Just as their first meet and greet had been no mistake, Hazel had already planned her great escape. She'd been saying goodbye with her kisses and her touch. And he had been too stupid to realize it.

  Dave tries calling Hazel one more time and then ends the call. He stares across the lounge at the lone other occupant. A young officer is seated at a far table, eating a late dinner and filling out reports. No woman to go home to either?

  Dave grabs a sub sandwich from the bar and a packaged toss salad. He is just moving away when Detective Mackey slides in next to him at the food bar. Mackey grabs two sub sandwiches and a handful of ketchup, mayo and mustard packets. He grins at Dave mischievously.

  "Still no word from the honey bear?"

  "Will you stop it already? And the answer is no."

  "It'll be alright, Dave. She probably needs time to think. She'll come around. Mark my words. Women are funny like that."

  "How would you know, Mackey? You married? Got a girlfriend?"

  For a moment, James' expression darkens. He averts his gaze and snags a package of chocolate chip cookies.

  "I was married. She died. Cancer," Mackey says. "Her illness was part of the reason I left Reno. We moved so she could be closer to her family. So they could help care for her. It was rough. She lasted longer than the doctors expected. She was a tough one. And I miss her."

  Shame causes Dave's eyes to roam towards the floor. He mumbles an apology.

  "I shouldn't have said that, James. I didn't mean..."

  "Hey, no problem," Mackey says, a wistful smile returning to his face. "How could you have known? It's not as if you've bothered to research me as thoroughly as I've researched you, Deputy Newsome."

  "Huh?"

  "You've never been married. Never been engaged. Never lived anywhere but Merrville County. I also know why you understood little Tyler Davis' pain today. You know what it's like to be without a mother. Your own mother died when you were sixteen. Father died thirteen years ago. He was a war veteran. He enlisted when he was actually too young to go off and fight. In other things, you used to drive Chevy's. But now, you love anything Ford. You've owned a total of five Chevy's your whole life. Drove each one of them until the wheels came off. You've got a beat up Ford Mustang in your garage. You never drive it. That's why the truck is always parked out front. No space."

  By this time, Dave's mouth is hanging open. He scrutinizes Detective James Mackey from head to toe.

  "What are you? My partner or my stalker?" Dave quips.

  "I'm a detective," James replies.