Deputy Newsome whips his souped up Ford pickup around a corner, slowing down less than a block from Freddo's food truck. The wheels have barely stopped turning when Dave hops down from the cab. Straightening his uniform, Newsome heads toward the smiling man behind the food truck window.

  "Hello, Deputy Newsome. You are looking well. Do you want the usual special today?"

  Dave sticks his thumbs into the top of his belt. He is barely able to suppress the excitement coursing through his veins. Yesterday, he and Hazel picked out an engagement ring together. Today, is the day they prepare to send out invitations. Dave's mind is only partially on the impending invites. Last night had been one of the best nights of his life. No worrying, no rushing, all fun and games.

  "I feel well, Freddo. I feel great. Yeah, give me your Freddo Special. Make that two. And some extra curly fries," Dave says.

  "Ah. You are buying lunch for Detective Mackey as well? He has not been by here as much. He comes and goes at odd hours. Not even so much as a word when he passes me by. It is strange, you think?"

  "He probably has a lot on his mind. Oh, and give me two coffees. One black, one hazelnut. Make sure you mark which one is the hazelnut this time. We always get our coffee cups mixed up."

  "Yes. I will do," Freddo says.

  A young man wanders up to the food truck and stands uneasily behind the towering deputy. Deputy Newsome glances over his shoulder and grins. The young man replies with a polite smile and chin cant. Dave returns his attention to Freddo and leans over the counter. Freddo leans in, observing the cunning expression on Dave's face.

  "Yes, senor?" Freddo whispers. "You are beginning to look and act like Detective Mackey. I think you have spent too much time in his presence. What is it you wish for me to do?"

  Dave's eyes narrow and he withholds judgment against the good-natured food vendor. All manner of ills can befall a person who besmirches the maker of their food.

  "I want you to add whatever that guy's having to my order. He looks like he's had a rough day. Whereas, I'm having a wonderful day. Time to pay it forward. Know what I mean? Good vibes only."

  "Ah, yes. I see. This, I can do. Do you not wish me to tell him?"

  "No. I'll slip you a little extra when I pay my bill. If it's not enough, I'll catch you when I come back out later."

  "Okay, Deputy Newsome. I understand. It will be enough."

  Dave pays for his order and waits to receive his food. Burdened down with styrofoam trays and a drink carrier, Dave offers the young man behind him a return chin cant. The man smiles a bit bigger and nods.

  "Have a good day, officer!" the young man sincerely exclaims.

  "Deputy...I'm a deputy," Dave states. "You're technically correct, but...It's sort of like calling a marine a soldier. You seriously wouldn't want to do that. You have a good day too, son!"

  Having given the kid his free lesson of the day, Dave turns and walks toward the police station.

  $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

  After almost three weeks away, cheers erupt when Dave enters the operations room. Dave glances around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the formerly glib Sargeant Emerson. However, Phyllis is nowhere in sight. A tall lanky officer approaches Dave. He politely relieves Dave's burden by taking the drink carrier. He claps Dave on the back, while shaking the deputy's hand energetically.

  "Deputy Newsome? Pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Detective Mackey. Congratulations on catching that psycho bastard."

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  Dave has no idea who he is talking to. His reaction to the officer firmly gripping his hand is self explanatory. The middle-aged officer grins uneasily and chuckles. The black man's eyes seem to sparkle despite his obvious discomfort.

  "My apologies. I'm Sargeant Mills...Sargeant Emerson's temporary replacement. As I said...I know who you are, Deputy Newsome."

  "Pleasure meeting you, Sargeant Mills," Dave says. "I had no idea Phyllis was leaving."

  "In a way," Sargeant Mills says. "She took leave to help care for her pregnant niece. Pamela, is expecting a baby boy. Seems frisky Pam finally got knocked up by her district attorney boyfriend."

  "Huh?" Dave says, eyes widening. District attorney boyfriend? You mean...Will Delgado?"

  "One and the same," Sargeant Mills laughs.

  "My, my. Small world. Will sure gets around, doesn't he?" Dave says.

  "That he does," Mills says. "I'll let you get back to your business, Deputy Newsome. It was nice meeting you."

  "Yes. You too. Thank you."

  Sargeant Mills returns the drink carrier to Dave and strolls back in the direction he came. Deputy Newsome shakes his head in bewilderment.

  "Sargeant Emerson is Pamela's aunt? I never would have seen that coming. Damn," Dave grumbles. "Looks like Hazel dodged a bullet. Damn numbnuts can't even be bothered to wear protection."

  Approaching Detective Mackey's desk in the far back of the operations room, Dave is surprised to find the usually tidy space a mess. Detective Mackey pours over several documents situated on the desktop. Dave's eyes wander to a stack of photographs on the top right corner of the desk. The top photo is of Sabrina Engle's very provocative mermaid tattoo.

  "Hmm," Dave says, by way of introduction. "I see you've gotten over your unfounded fear of admiring beautiful women, Detective Mackey."

  The slightly peeved detective glances up at Dave over the rim of his reading glasses. Dave nearly melts from the emotion behind the glare. It almost feels as if he is standing in front of Sheriff Northrop's immaculate desk.

  "Have a little respect, Dave. Sabrina Engle is dead. And there is nothing beautiful about what happened to her."

  "Yikes!" Dave says. "My mistake. I just happen to remember a time when you couldn't even look at that picture without blushing or having a panic attack. Something has obviously changed. Breasts are nothing new, buddy. The late Sabrina Engle knew that, rest her soul. I don't think she'd be mad at you for admiring how she chose to immortalize them. There's no shame in saying she was once a beautiful woman....With a very beautiful rack."

  "Uh...Okay. What brings you down here, Dave?" Mackey says, changing the subject.

  "Does a guy need a reason to visit his good old detective buddy?" Dave quips, putting the food down on a relatively clean portion of the desk. "Long time no see, Mackey. And you never return my calls."

  "I've been busy," Mackey responds. "Lots to do these days."

  "I can see that," Dave says. The deputy pulls up a nearby chair and opens up the food containers. "Any interesting cases?"

  "Not really," James says.

  "Then...Why does your desk look like a hurricane came by, took a dump on it, and trotted about its way?"

  Detective Mackey removes his reading glasses and reaches for one of the coffee cups in the carrier. He shakes his head at Deputy Newsome.

  "You have funny ways of putting things, Deputy Newsome," Mackey says.

  "I learned from the best," Dave replies. "What I really came down here for is...Well, I need that photo you took of me and Hazel in Montana. The one from the charity party."

  "I remember, Dave. Believe me, I remember. Your honey bear was very...Uh...Beautiful that day. I look at that picture often. I call it exposure therapy."

  "That's not funny, James," Dave replies, eyes narrowing.

  "I'm not joking," Mackey says. "I would say that's another rack which definitely deserves immortalizing."

  "Okay...Enough," Dave says. "I need that photo to use for our wedding invitations. Afterwards, I'd appreciate it if you deleted that picture off your device...If you're gonna act like a jackass."

  "So jealous, Dave. You really should learn how to tell when someone is joking. No, I do not stare at your fiance's rack every..."

  Mackey's brain finally catches up to what information it has been relayed. He gives Dave a quizzical look.

  "Wedding invitations? When did this happen? Does she know you are both getting married? Or are you going to spring it on her at the last minute? Last I heard, you said she still wasn't biting the marriage bullet."

  "Hazel and I told her father together. Sheriff Northrop already suspected. Not to mention, District Attorney Little Willie ran whining to Daddy Northrop about his own suspicions. The sheriff was actually pretty chill about it. We're getting married in a year. To give us both time to get in the right headspace. After being friends with benefits for over a year, it's going to take some adjustments."

  "Uh-huh!" James says. "Well. Congratulations, Dave."

  "Thanks, Mack," Dave replies. "It's good seeing you again."