Dave pulls his truck into the parking lot of the Castleton Iggle's grocery store. Yet again, he is out of coffee and the only food in the fridge hasn't resembled food in months.

  The entire day has been spent fielding calls from frantic relatives of teen runaways, missing housewives, and boyfriends of locals girls from the college. The best answer anyone could give these distressed persons was a sincere 'We're working on it Ma'am or Sir.' Followed by taking their phone numbers--after getting a full description of the lost or suspected missing person.

  Already Dave is growing wary. He hopes that sage Sheriff Northrop is wrong about this possibly being a serial killing. This is not a routine Dave wants to repeat any time soon. Or ever again.

  Dave puts his coin into the machine and frees his shopping cart from the cart rail. A woman nearby glances at him as she puts her cart back. An embarrassed grin parts her lips.

  "I'm sorry, officer," the woman says. "If I'd realized you were going to need a cart, I would have given you mine."

  Dave smiles reassuringly and shakes his head. Considering he'd changed his uniform before leaving the station, Dave wonders how the woman knew he was a cop. Glancing back, Dave remembers the bold words on the side of his truck. Duh! She must have seen what he climbed out of.

  "No problem, Ma'am. It's only a quarter. I'll get it back when I come out. As long as I'm a responsible citizen and put this dang cart back where I got it, that is," Dave says, laying on the charm.

  "Yes, that's true," the woman replies, her grin widening.

  Dave is prepared to speak again when a thin man, in a jogging suit, races up to the young woman from inside the store. Stopping abruptly, the young man nods respectfully at Dave and then addresses the young woman. She turns to stare at him lovingly. Dave simply gulps.

  "Got the tumeric. They only had two of those little paper packets. So I got them both. Is that enough to make chicken for sixteen people?"

  "Sure, hon. That's fine," the pretty woman gushes, pecking her agitated lover on the cheek.

  She returns her attention to Dave and performs a small wave. She wriggles her right hand into the left hand of her husband--or boyfriend.

  "It was nice meeting you, Officer"

  The young couple heads for their car and Dave mournfully pushes his shopping cart into the store.

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

  Dave's eyes nearly bug out of his head as he turns into the produce section. Standing next to the bin of Macintosh apples is none other than Hazel Northrop. It is obvious she has not seen him. She bends over to snag an apple which has caught her eye, her too small blouse riding up and revealing a portion of her midriff. Dave watches her silently for a moment and then pushes his cart in her direction.

  "Are you looking for something, Ma'am? Can I help you find it?" Dave quips.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  He grins like a Cheshire cat, expecting to get the same response from Hazel. Instead, she shifts her eyes coldly in his direction and then returns to her task of finding the perfect apple.

  "What do you want, Dave?" Hazel says in a dispassionate voice.

  Dave is taken aback by Hazel's mood. He simply stares at his elicit lover as she positions a section of hair behind her ear. Hazel pretends he isn't there. As long as he isn't talking, or apologizing, he isn't there. Not as far as she is concerned.

  "I...Uh...I saw you there and just wanted to talk," Dave says.

  "That's a surprise," Hazel retorts sarcastically. "What about? The other night, you had nothing to say. What could you possibly want to talk to me about, Dave?"

  "Come on, Hazel," Dave pleads, careful to keep his voice down.

  He moves closer to Hazel, staring down into her furious face. If not for the questionable status of their relationship, and the obvious fact that news might get back to Sheriff Northrop, Dave would kiss Hazel right here in front of the apple bin. He settles for simply staring into her eyes.

  "I explained to you why I didn't think it was a good idea to visit you that night...Or have you visit me. Too many bad vibes. I didn't want to spoil the day you and I'd had together."

  "Sure," Hazel replies without overt emotion. "I hear you, Dave."

  Tossing her wavy hair over one shoulder, Hazel blinks rather slowly and puts a hand on her hip. Dave's eyes begin to wander and he runs his tongue over his left incisor. He breathes in deeply, waiting for Hazel to speak again.

  "I've gotta go, Dave," Hazel says. "I'm cooking dinner for my old man. It's been a rough couple of days for him, and I think he can use a nice cooked meal."

  Dave boldly slips a hand around Hazel's waist, keeping his shopping cart positioned in such a way that his actions won't be obvious. He gazes longingly down into Hazel's eyes. How does she think the last thirty-six hours have treated him?

  "Which old man?" Dave quips, knowing full well who Hazel is referring to.

  "My dad, Dave. Of course," Hazel says. "Will and I aren't seeing each other until he gets his priorities straight. I guess the same can be said of others as well. I'm single again. Goodbye, Dave."

  Shifting her midsection, so that Dave's hand slides off of her waist, Hazel selects a few random apples and throws them in her produce bag. The bag is already overflowing with apples. Dave can only assume she is prepping to make some sort of pie or dessert. And she didn't invite him. Not a good sign.

  "Hazel, please," Dave says, not wanting her to slip out of his grasp--and his life.

  "Bye, Dave," Hazel repeats. "I'll tell my father you said 'hey'."

  Pushing her cart away from the bin of apples, Hazel heads for another part of the supermarket. Dave watches her go with a solemn expression.

  Later that night, closer to the next morning

  Hazel Northrop's Home

  Hazel stretches lazily and strains her ears to hear. She glances over at the digital clock beside her bed. Was that a knock? At this time of the morning? What crazy sucker has lost his damn mind, beating on her door like that?

  Climbing out of bed, Hazel grabs her silk robe from its usual place-- drapped over her nightstand. She cinches the robe around her nude form as she descends the staircase leading from her room.

  She peeks through the peephole and sighs. Wrenching the door open, Hazel is prepared to launch into a tirade. She is surprised when Dave practically rips the porch screen open.

  "Dave...What?"

  Dave swiftly moves into Hazel's personal space and cups her face with both hands. He kisses her passionately. Finally separating, Dave gazes down into Hazel's wide brown eyes.

  "I didn't bother trying to call. I knew you wouldn't answer the damn phone anyway. It's been a rough couple of days for me too, Hazel. I had to see you."

  Hazel only blinks.

  "You said earlier this evening that you're single again," Dave continues. "Not quite."