Deputy Newsome pulls into the gravel driveway of his secluded two-story home. For several moments, he simply stares off into space. Where exactly had his life gone wrong? It's nice having Hazel around to scratch his itches, and he hers. But why was there never a Mrs. Dave Newsome in his past?
Sure, he can kid himself that he just never found anyone he was compatible with. However, the truth is a bit more complicated than that. He would have gladly married any of the women who had once shared his bed. Problem was, none of the women he'd slept with were interested in actually marrying him. And it'll be a cold day in Hell before he can convince Sheriff Northrop to allow him to wed Hazel. Hazel is Northrop's favorite daughter--his pride and joy. Yet again, Dave gets the impression that he is spinning his wheels and getting zero traction.
Raking a hand through his hair, Dave turns on the dome light in his truck. He stares into the rearview mirror, examining every angle of his scalp. After what amounts to a couple of minutes of close inspection, Dave heaves an exasperated sigh. Time for some more Just For Men. Maybe this time, he'll even change up the color. Possibly dye his eyebrows too. It'll take years off of his appearance. Except for the damn crow's feet.
Dave grumbles softly as he turns off the dome light and reaches for the vehicle's door handle. He climbs heavily out of the truck and slams the door. Activating the alarm, and running a hand over the truck's grill guard, Dave makes his way toward the house.
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A rerun of Wheel of Fortune is playing on the television as Dave naps, his head reclining over the back of the sofa. A half-eaten frozen dinner sits on the table beside the couch, a lone fly picking along the edges of the cold mashed potatoes.
Dave's dreams are filled with images of the mutilated woman. His brain struggles to reconstruct what she must have looked like in life. She'd had a beautiful body, that much could be seen. Was it a fit of jealous rage which led to her horrible death? Had her boyfriend found her cheating and lost his damn mind? What excuse could a monster have for such a heinous crime? Was there ever an excuse? The courts sometimes thought so.
Five years ago, Dave had watched as a local boy was cleared of first-degree murder charges; after forcefully sticking his girlfriend's hands in a garbage disposal. She'd bled to death at gunpoint, while he bargained with police. The murdering bastard was found, by a jury, to be temporarily insane. Served three years in an institution for the criminally ill, two years of house arrest, and is already a free man again.
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Dave twitches in his sleep, turning his head to one side. The loud ringing of his burner phone wakes Dave from the nightmare choking his slumber. He sits up on the sofa and quickly grabs the phone. Even seeing Hazel's number on the Caller ID isn't enough to raise his spirits. He answers the phone as calmly as possible, his voice low and drenched in sadness.
"Hey, Hazel."
"Hey, yourself!" Hazel says on the other end of the line.
Hazel situates the phone between her shoulder and left ear. She pooches out her lips and spreads her toes, using her right hand to apply matte black polish to her big toenail. She uses the most seductive voice she can muster.
"You sound down in the dumps, Dave. Are you okay? Do you want me to come over and cheer you up?"
Dave smiles wistfully at the offer but shakes his head. Remembering that Hazel would not have been able to see his gesture, Dave replies aloud.
"Nah. I'm not feeling very--. We had a real bad situation today and I don't think I want to bring that kind of energy around you. Have you spoken with your old man yet?"
"Haha. You keep asking me that, Dave. Ha. Almost like you're asking for trouble. But, no...I haven't. Why?"
"Oh, nothing," Dave says, reclining back into the sofa cushions. Hazel's girlish giggle warms his heart.
"It has something to do with that call you got, doesn't it? The one that spoiled our fun?"
"Yeah," Dave confirms, rubbing the left side of his brow. "It was...Pretty bad. Found a young lady mutilated beyond recognition. Don't know how much the old man wants told to the public. He was pretty hush-hush during the press conference this afternoon. Thinks we may have a repeat killer. I'm surprised he hasn't spoken to you about it. You being his prized lamb and all."
"Very funny, Dave. He's obviously been busy. I'll call him later. If he doesn't call me first. But really...How are you doing? I'm serious about coming over. It might do you some good. Get your mind off of things."
"Oh...It would certainly be good for me. There's no denying that. I just...I think the best thing for me to do right now is to take a ring check. I want nothing more than to cuddle with you, Hazel. I just don't think now is the right time. I need to process some things."
"Are you serious, Dave?" Hazel exclaims, setting her nail polish down on the nightstand and staring at the phone in disbelief. "That's a first."
"I need time, Hazel. If you had seen--. I just need some time."
Hazel squeezes her eyes shut, reclines her head back, and pinches the end of her nose in a gesture of frustration. Her voice takes on a cold chill.
"You are the second person to say that to me today, Dave. First, that asshole Will. And now, you. I sure do have great taste in men!"
Pressing END, Hazel ends the phone call. It is Dave's turn to stare at the phone. Oh man. Another romantic screwup. No wonder there's no Ms. Dave Newsome.
