Merrville County

  Dave's Residence

  4:37 a.m.

  Dave walks quietly down the hallway. The kitchen light is on and Hazel has already begun preparing breakfast for the two of them. Dave hates to leave without saying 'goodbye', but he and Mackey have a long ride to see Stefan Clayborne. Maybe even stop by in Fell's Springs for a bit.

  Reaching the kitchen entryway, Dave peeks around the door frame to gauge where Hazel is. Hazel stands in front of the stove, wearing only her lace undergarments. Dave sighs and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. She sure doesn't make it easy for him does she?

  Doing his best to tiptoe, Dave turns toward the front hallway. Hazel catches slight movement, from the side of her vision, as she reaches to grab a plate for Dave's eggs. She whirls away from the stove and puts both hands on her hips.

  "And where do you think you're going, Dave? Without speaking? Or even eating?'

  Dave sighs again and moves into the kitchen. He gives Hazel an apologetic smile.

  "It's a little hard to sneak with feet the size of yours, Dave. Give me a second and I'll fix something for you to take with you."

  Dave approaches the stove and looks down at the humongous portion of eggs in the frying pan. Hazel points to a cabinet above the sink.

  "Hand me one of the small tupperware. Hurry up. Since you're so determined to leave without speaking to me," Hazel teases with a wink.

  Dave complies, giving Hazel a sly look. Hazel stares sidelong at the crafty deputy while she scoops eggs into the plastic tupperware.

  "So, where are you going this early?"

  "It's probably better if I don't tell you," Dave says, grabbing a pinch of fluffy egg from the pan. "We don't exactly have permission to be there. We haven't navigated the proper channels yet."

  "Ah," Hazel coos. "Bending the rules, then? I like it. Is this a new Mackey trick? You should hang out with him more often, Dave. Then, you can be like one of those badass T.V. cops. Busting heads, taking names, and not giving a damn! I like that for you."

  "Uh-huh," Dave chuckles. "I don't. That's a nice way to lose my pension and some years off my life. No thanks."

  Dave leans close and kisses Hazel on the cheek. Hazel makes a smooching sound with her mouth, while cupping Dave's face.

  "Bye, baby."

  "Baby? Whatever happened to Honey Bear?" Hazel pouts.

  "Bye, Honey Bear," Dave whispers playfully, pecking Hazel on the lips.

  "That's better. Bye, Dave."

  Dave grabs his tupperware full of fluffy yellow eggs and dashes out of the kitchen.

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  Castleton General Hospital

  Emergency Room Parking Tunnel

  Dave allows his eyes to skim over Detective Mackey's face, as the fatigued man climbs into the passenger seat. James glances over at Dave and carefully shuts the pickup door. Dave offers his riding companion a knowing grin.

  "Hey, Dave!" Mackey states in a deeply tired tone.

  "Yeah, right. Get any sleep last night, Mackey?"

  James slides his eyes over to Dave and glowers at the nagging deputy. His voice takes on a crisp edge.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "No!"

  "I can tell!" Dave quips. "You look like the worst kind of dog crap!"

  "Haha, Dave. Where'd you learn that joke? From the back of a TV Guide? Jeezus, my eyes hurt something terrible. I need some strong coffee. So...We still headed to Clayborne's, or did you get cold feet?"

  "Yep!" Dave tersely replies, driving slowly out of the emergency room visitor parking tunnel.

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  Sometime later

  Clayborne Residence

  Dave presses three fingers into Detective Mackey's left shoulder. He rouses James from his deep slumber, silencing the loud snores interrupting the radio's music.

  "Wake up, Mackey. We're here," Dave says before James' eyes are fully open. "Let's hurry this up. We're not even supposed to be here."

  "I'm coming, Dave." Mackey says.

  The two law men climb out of the pickup, softly closing both doors. Before they've gone more than a few feet up the driveway, a towering man steps out of the elaborate farmhouse. Presumably, the home's owner, Stefan Clayborne. Dressed in a blue collared shirt-- open to the second button--and a white ball cap, the bewildered man looks from Dave to James.

  "Officers? Can I help you? Is it my mother? Did something happen? Oh god? Is Momma okay? Damn it...I knew I should've talked her into moving in with me. Oh god!" Stefan exclaims, close to tears.

  Dave puts up a hand to calm the panicking man's mind. Detective Mackey simply shakes his head. They continue walking slowly toward the house.

  "Relax, Mr. Clayborne," Dave says. "We're not here about your mother. We're just here to ask you a couple of questions. That's all. You're not under any suspicion and you're not in any danger. We're doing some canvasing and we need a little information."

  "Oh," Stefan says, relief on his visage and in his voice. "Okay, sure. Um...Come in, officers. I was just heading out. I have a delivery to complete today. But I have a little time. Come on inside."

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  "I'm not actually a Clayborne," Stefan says, handing Deputy Newsome a hot cup of fresh black coffee. "I'm a Fremont by blood. I'm adopted. A far distant relative of Leonard took me under his wing when I was a desperate youth. I do remember Jeremiah, though. I remember his dad, Leonard too. Strange family. Strange boy. He used to pick on a lot of the younger neighborhood girls. Boys too. Unless, they were bigger than him. It got worse when he got older. Once he got his growth spurt...It was like he went crazy."

  "Define 'crazy'," James says, leaning forward on his borrowed wooden chair beside Dave.

  Stefan hands Detective Mackey the requested cup of chai tea. He issues a long sigh and peers out of the open living room window. The emotionally haunted trucker stares seemingly at nothing. In reality, he is seeing the past through his mind's eye.

  "He um...He kind of escalated. Started doing some real bad stuff. One time, while we were in high school, he snuck into the girl's locker room. Assaulted a young lady while she was dressing for swim practice. His dad was able to keep the story squashed. The girl's family sent her away. A few months later...The parents of the girl also moved out of town. Or rather, were forced out. Discreetly, of course."

  "The girl...On a scale of one to ten, how much did she resemble Jeremiah's mother?" Mackey questions, eyes narrowing.

  "Funny you'd mention Jeremiah's mother. But...I'd say a '7' or an '8'. They could have been sisters. Or half sisters. Mother and daughter maybe. Claudia had that skin black people call 'high yellow'. Looked almost white, really. She was damn near lighter than me, even with a summer tan. Thing is...Jeremiah was real attached to his mother. He wouldn't let anybody badmouth her. Nearly killed a kid once for calling his mother a bitch."

  Stefan pauses his rambling and looks around uneasily before continuing. The expression on the long-haul trucker's face changes from haunted to downright embarrassed, as if what he has to say is too shameful to utter.

  "Uh...Rumor has it, when Jeremiah was in the tenth grade...He uh....He even took his mother to bed. That's how Leonard told it, anyway. Claudia saw things differently. She said...She claimed it was..."

  Stefan takes a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling. Placing one hand on his muscular hip, Stefan shakes his head with shame and disbelief.

  "Needless to say...I got my ass out of Lich as soon as possible."

  "Really? Why's that?" Dave says between sips of coffee, encouraging Stefan to finish his story.

  Stefan becomes visibly angry, twisting his mouth to one side and glaring at Deputy Newsome.

  "Why the hell wouldn't I want to get out of that damn town? No jobs, a bunch of crackpots who will sell you religion and a prostitute in the same breath, and a family full of psychos and weirdos. So...I followed in the footsteps of almost every manly Clayborne I know. I became a truck driver. Only difference is...I saved my money instead of pissing it away on beer and whores. And I got out of that town. And I ain't never looking back. It sickens me to think that...That Jeremiah may have followed me here. I hate the idea of it."

  "Well, we're not so sure he did follow you here, Mr. Clayborne," Mackey says.

  "Jeremiah Clayborne died two years ago," Dave completes the thought.

  "Died? So why all the questions about..." Stefan stammers, before he is interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. "I'm sorry. I've got to take this. You need anything more from me, officers? I've really got to get ready to head out anyway."

  "No. I think you've helped us enough for one day," Mackey says. "If we think of anything else...We know where to find you."

  "Oh. Haha. Right," Stefan states between an uncomfortable laugh. "You can see your way out gentlemen. I've got to call them back."

  "Sure," Mackey replies, watching Stefan's visage for any noticable change. "Thanks for the tea."

  The two law men exit the Clayborne residence and head down the drive toward Dave's pickup.