Adam’s Apple

     Dillon was stretched out on the bed, resting lazily on a pillow. Evie was leaning on her elbow, on the bed. Her body angled midway across his stomach. “Do men have an ‘Adam’s apple’ to remind them of their sin in the Garden of Eden?” 

     He was shocked by her question. Finally stumbling out, “I don’t know.”

     She traced his Adam’s apple with her finger. “I know a little behind the science of why you have one.”

     “I’ve met women before with bigger ones than mine.”

     “I read that airbody has this cartilage, but it’s not always visible.” She continued tracing it with her finger. 

     “God puttin’ it there is an interesting notion.”

     “I know sometimes I may throw some off the wall things at you.”

     “Throw.” He encouraged. 

     “Do you want to get lost?”

     “I get lost airday.” He draped his arm over her side. 

     “How?”

     “I know how to be a good sheriff. I’m completely lost when it comes to being a good husband. I just know that I never want to be the same as my dad.”

     She smiled, “so you’re not completely lost. You know how you don’t want to act.” She paused for a moment, “I’ve been reading a book about how getting lost is the truest form of education. That we are more open to knowledge when we are,” she shrugged, “well lost.”

     “I am absolutely enjoying my education with you.”

     “What about being lost in the world? Takin’ a trip without a map or gps?”

     “My first trip to Lexington, all I had was an address.” He laughed, “yeah, I got lost. Thank God I wasn’t transporting a prisoner. But you know, I was able to find my way back there every year with little to no effort.”

     “Maybe there is truth in that idea.”

     He smiled, “if you don’t stop playing with my  Adam’s apple we are gonna engage in a different kind of exploration.”

     She gave him a sly grin, “really?”

     He moaned slightly, “a new direction for gettin’ lost.” 

Cassandra Morgan

     After their company left, Dillon and Evie went in the house. Dillon sank into the couch. 

     “Your head hurtin’?” 

     Evie sat down beside of him. She sat down with her back against the couch arm, draping her legs across his lap. He trailed his finger tips over her smooth thighs. “A little.” He finally answered. 

 

     “I’m being really really nosy here, why does Cassandra hate you?”

     He thought about how he was going to answer this. No matter what he said, it wasn’t gonna put him in a good light. 

     “Too close to the vest?” Evie smiled.

     He focused on his fingers as they glided over her skin. “I was young, stupid and it was a mistake.” He paused, “before I became sheriff and she became Sunshine Sue, we dated on and off for a while. It didn’t end well. It was heated and got ugly in a hurry.” He gave a nervous smile. “Not my finest moment in life. She’s married now. They have a family but she still hates me.” Evie kept quiet. “Lookin’ back on it. I used her. I knew she had a crush on me in high school. Not my finest moment.”

     “But you see that now. Is there anyway past it?” He didn’t speak. “If she’s married,” Evie paused. “If the internet is her livelihood, maybe the animosity is there for show?” Dillon stared at her in disbelief. “At this stage in life, to bolster ratings?”

     “I never thought about it like that. Still don’t want to take the chance that those feelin’s are still strong.”

     “What are you praying to charge this person with?”

     “Right now all we can do is filing a false report. Once the name can be revealed, I want either the state or the county, maybe both to sue to cover the cost of the investigation. It shouldn’t be the taxpayers responsibility to pay for another’s arrogance.”

Sunshine Sue

     Deputy Banks, Bradley, Evie, Dillon, and another man Dillon introduced as Edward set on the back porch.

     Deputy Banks wrung his hands, “this will not be popular but I think we need to get Sunshine Sue in on this.”

    Dillon scoffed. 

    Edward rolled his eyes. 

     Evie watched each man’s expression to the comment with interest. “If I may ask, who is Sunshine Sue? I’ve heard the name before.”

     “Have you been livin’ under a rock?” Edward snapped.

     She smiled a mischievous smile, “a closet.”

     Bradley spoke, “Sunshine Sue is on every social platform she can be on. Has thousands if not millions of followers.”

     “Busy body,” Edward scoffed. 

     “She might be the right kind of busy body we need,” Banks offered. 

     “Is her name really Sue?” Evie asked, “that’s just too clever.”

     “No,” Dillon offered. She noticed him touching the table. He would touch it. Think for a second or to, raise his finger, then touch the table again. 

     “We need this person to get so pissed, they come out.” Banks remarked.

    “She is definitely the right person to inflame any situation.” Edward smirked.

     “She hates me,” Dillon was still frequently touching the table. 

     “She hates you?” Evie asked.

     “Cassandra,” Dillon blurted out with his finger touching the table.

     “Cassandra Morgan?” Evie asked. “From school?”

     “Yes.” Dillon answered her. 

     Bradley spoke, “hate might be too harsh.”

     “No,” Dillon softly shook his head. 

     “Why?” Edward asked. “I always knew there was some animosity between her and the sheriffs office.”

     “We may need to burry the hatchet.” Banks spoke. “We just might need her.”

     “Let me get this straight,” Evie put a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. “You want Sunshine Sue to poke the bear? You know who this person is?” Evie asked with surprise.

     “Yes. But we have to get something that will stand up in court.” Edward frowned.

     Dillon almost said something but thought better of it. He glanced at Evie. “I have an idea to poke the bear. Bradley, do you have your note pad?” Bradley handed it over with a pen. Dillon scribbled on it. Before handing it back. “Someone anonymously send her a copy of the council minutes from this month.” He pointed at the pad. 

     Banks asked, “Will she be able to figure out what we want her to see or do we need to highlight part of it?”

     “Highlights might be misconstrued as leading,” Edward hissed. “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

    Bradley hung around until everyone had left. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have come and got you. I should have just written up my report for you to read.”

     Dillon extended his hand for a hand shake. “It’s all good.”

Stir crazy

     The cool delight of spring was being beaten back by the heavy heat of summer. Dillon fixed the hole in the fence. Now they were laying out a separate driveway with a fence for Hillbilly Yoga. In the back of his mind, Dillon prayed this wasn’t a waste of time and resources. 

     Every evening, Bradley was visiting, fillin’ Dillon in on the investigation. In Evie’s presence. The team from Frankfort wasn’t getting in the way. They were running with the new information they had received. 

     Dillon was pacing like a caged animal. Evie smiled, “my husband please change into some old work clothes.” He did so full of curiosity. After he had changed, she led him to the upper barn where the goats and cows called a dry place and was now home to Hillbilly Yoga. Up to the top of the barn where she had made a plastic cubical with drop cloths, there was all kinds of paint on a stump she was using as a table. And the largest piece of canvas he had ever saw resting on a well used easel. She gave him a pair of rubber gloves and goggles. 

     As she put on a pair of gloves, straightened her goggles, she filled him in. “We have no objective here. Other than to release stress.” She got a hand full of bright pink paint and threw it on the canvas with all her might. Its splatter hit the bottom corner of the canvas. “Was never good at sports,” she shrugged. 

     With great reluctance, he got a hand full of black paint. “This feels wrong.”

     “All the more reason to do it.” She encouraged. His fist full of paint hit bullseye center in the middle of the canvas. “All that target practice.” She winked. There were squirt bottles full of paint. She put red paint on a paper plate; covered her hands, then punched the canvas like it was a punching bag. “Not too hard, you’ll bust through the canvas.” She gently remarked. 

     She removed her gloves as she walked behind one of the plastic sheets. The first song that started playing was a heavy metal song from their childhood. Then hard rock. Some hardcore instrumental music Dillon didn’t even know existed. The music fueled his need to get his frustrations out. Get out of his own head. Each song took him to the edge of the madness in his brain. Would let him release, before building him up again. 

     After about an hour, his arms were starting to burn. The music stopped but he was still going. It took him 10 minutes to realize the music had stopped. He took his gloves off, in true CPR fashion, not getting a drop of paint on his hands, took the goggles off. Evie was sittin’ on one of the stumps watching him catch his breath. 

     She smiled, “feel better?”

     “You are so beautiful.” 

     She blushed, “thank you.”

     “Yes, I do feel better.”

     She walked over to him with an artist paint brush, dripping with white paint. “Sign your masterpiece Mr. Pace.”

     “Where?” He asked, still catching his breath.

     “Any where.” He chose the bottom left hand corner; DJP

     “Perhaps this should be part of Hillbilly Yoga.” He sighed.