Chief thanked the doctor after draining the remaining bourbon in his glass. But even after three very tall bourbons he did not feel the slightest bit impaired. After talking to the doctor he questioned the guards that were in charge of the work detail when Blackney escaped. He also questioned some of the prisoners. It was well after six in the evening when he left. He stopped in Sweetwater Falls, halfway to Middleton for a quick bite. The diner was named Flo’s after the owner and cook’s late wife.

Chief took a seat near the window. He set the binder containing the transcripts on the table in front of him. He regarded it as he removed his jacket and draped it behind him on the back of the chair. Once situated, Chief began to leaf through the documents.

A young waitress interrupted him ten minutes into his reading.

“What can I get for ya, handsome?” she said cracking her gum after every word.

Chief noticed the waitress was just a few years older than Maggy. “How about a menu, and a cup of coffee?” he answered and returned his attention to his reading.

The waitress walked to the front of the diner, her shoes clomping on the chipped linoleum floor like the quiet plod of an old draft horse against barren soil. She retrieved a menu from a pocket built into the front wall and returned to Chief.

“There you go. I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

Chief smiled a “thank you,” before returning to the thick binder in front of him.

The waitress returned minutes later and set the coffee on the table. 

“So what will it be,” she asked, readying her pen.

Chief looked up from the transcripts and flushed. “What’s the special?”

“Corned beef on rye,” she answered. “It’s very good. Sal cures the corned beef in an oak barrel for two weeks. It’s very tender.

“I’ll take that,” Chief said. Then he added, “Miss?” She turned. “I’ll probably be here a while. I have some reading I need to do. If you need the space, just let me know.”

She smiled. “Haven’t had a crowd in here in a while. You’re welcome to stay all night if you wish. I’ll just keep bringing you coffee.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” He returned to his reading as she turned to place his order with the cook.

It was after midnight when the waitress brought Chief his tenth cup of coffee. She noticed the papers he had been reading were folded in front of him and his attention was now directed out the window. There were only three other customers in the diner. All three were truck drivers en route to separate destinations to deliver their cargo. 

The waitress set the coffee down in front of the Chief of the Middleton Police Department.

“Black, no cream, no sugar,” she said quietly.

Chief looked up. His smile was tired. “Thanks,” he said and took the coffee from the waitress. He watched her sit across from him.

“I see you’ve finished,” she said, then asked, “Mind if I sit down.”

“Be my guest,” answered Chief.

“Dogs are killing me,” she said slipping her shoes off her feet and massaging one with the other.

The waitress poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot she had set at the end of the table. “I hope you don’t mind my bluntness, but you look like you could use something a hell of a lot stronger than coffee.”

“No,” Chief said shaking his head. “That’s all right. I’m fine.”

“It’s no trouble, have some in the back. We can go back there and no one would bother us.”

“I’m flattered–” he started.

“But you’re married,” finished the waitress after noticing the gold band around his finger.

Chief glanced at the ring. He wore it to remember what he and Katherine had together; their life together. Soon he would replace it with a new ring and consequently start a new life.

“Actually,” he said. “My wife passed away over ten years ago.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Engaged.”

“Just my luck. Of course, engaged doesn’t mean she’s got the ring in your nose, yet–”

“I’m afraid in my case it does,” he said and looked at the woman.

She was struck by the sincerity and sadness in his dark brown eyes staring back at her. Finally she’d met a man that wasn’t a creep and just her luck, somebody else beat her to him.

She motioned to the transcripts. “Bad news?”

“It’s part of an investigation.”

“For an investigation, it seems you’re taking it a little too personal.”

Chief regarded the woman again. The pain in his eyes was almost enough to cause her to turn away, but she held steady in front of them.

It was after some time Chief answered. “It is personal.”

The waitress took a sip of her coffee then looked up at Chief. His attention was out the window again.

“Need to talk about it? Some say waitresses are better at that sort of thing than bartenders.”

Chief returned his attention to her. The diner was on a direct route from Melrose to Middleton. He pulled a photograph from his breast pocket and showed it to the waitress.

“Have you seen this man?”

She took the picture and studied it. Then she handed it back to him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to the police chief. She had seen the man’s picture before. It was in the morning paper. She read all about the escape. All about the “unfinished business.” Last fall, the case of Mary Lou Crawford’s murder was written up in great detail in the Sweetwater Falls Gazette, with word for word detail of the trial and testimony–especially the testimony from the Chief of Police’s daughter, Kelly Broden. 

“Then you haven’t seen him?”

“No, not in person. I read about him in this morning’s paper. Your girl, she’s the unfinished business that head shrinker was referrin’ to?”

Chief looked at the woman. He read the concern and sympathy in her eyes. “Yes,” he sighed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” he answered. Then he looked at his watch. “I need to get home. Is my bill ready?”

She looked up from her thoughts. Chief noticed the surprise on her face at being brought back to their respective roles: waitress and customer. She smiled. It was a pretty smile. Her eyes were hazel mixed with green. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. A stubborn strand of chestnut hair fell across her left eye. She swiped it from her face and tucked it into her ponytail.

“I’ve got it right here,” she said and fished into her apron for his ticket. She pulled it free and placed it in front of Chief. He noticed the strand of hair had already pulled loose.

*   *   *   *   *

Chief left the diner at twelve-thirty. He drove down the farm access road lost in his thoughts. Vivid memories of that night, late in October of 1911, tore at him. 

The air was thick with fog, he could barely make her out at the end of the block– blond hair blown straight back, as she fled. Fled? The hair framing her face was soaked with perspiration. Streetlights flickered and waved as the flames fed off the kerosene at the bottom of their glass cages. Around them the mist gathered, creating an eerie vortex of diffused and sifted light. Shadows cast across the very air and suspended in the fog.

He had finally found enough nerve to ask her out. He had fallen in love with her the very first time he had seen her. But he had been a shy boy. Fred, his best friend and blood brother, was not so shy. He had wasted no time in courting the girl. They had started dating soon after their first meeting in June of that same year. Bobby knew, as a friend to Fred, he should not interfere. But, damn it, he had seen her first! He had told Fred how he felt. Fred had broken the code the first time he had asked the girl out. Now, it was Bobby’s turn. The code of honor among friends was already broken. That left Katherine Warren open territory. May the best man win!

Bobby marched down Elm Street, through the low level fog. His clothes were wet with dew and nervous perspiration by the time he turned off the road and down Walnut Street. Somewhere in the fog a tomcat screeched; a second answered with a hiss. A trash can was knocked over, and then quiet returned. Bobby took a second turn, putting him on Main. He turned the corner just in time to see Katherine running towards him from the other end of the street.

There was a look of raw terror in her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled up short when she noticed him. Her mouth was thrown open wide as she inhaled the cold night air, desperate for breath. Bobby noticed a bruise rising on her chin. Then she ran on. It was the terror that he remembered the most–the look in her eyes. She was across her yard and on her porch before he could force himself to move.

“Katherine!” he yelled. “Wait!” He ran, following her path up the yard and to the porch where he knocked wildly on the front door.

Her older sister, Martha, answered. “She doesn’t want to see you!” she shouted with the unmistakable look of hatred on her face.

“I need to talk to her,” Bobby begged.

“Go away!”

He tried peeking around the older girl and caught sight of his love on the bottom stair, sobbing hysterically, and shaking violently. Her face was turned towards the wall. Bobby had to step back to catch his breath.

“What happened?” he whispered, his eyes still on Kate.

“As if you didn’t know?” Martha shot back.

Bobby looked at her. “I don’t! How could I-?”

“Good-bye, Robert Broden,” Martha iced out through the closing of the door.

“Wait!” Bobby called into the solid oak. He tried to stop the door’s progress with his right hand. The pain in his palm matched the pain in his heart as the door was slammed closed.

Martha opened the door just long enough for the confused boy to retrieve his bruised and bleeding hand from the door jam. Then once again the door slammed shut.

Chief pulled into the drive at three-fifteen. He cut the engine with a twist of the key and sat listening to the engine’s ping as it cooled in the night air. Chief remained in his truck, staring at the house he and Katherine had built together. When they had been younger, growing up in Middleton years ago, the lot belonged to the Appleton’s. There had once been a magnificent old house built on the lot in the early 1800’s. It fell to ruin with poor up-keep and Middleton’s humid summers. During Chief’s childhood it had been the town’s ‘haunted house.’ Games of dare evolved around the old house until one day it just tumbled, killing two daring boys, who were hunting ghosts at the time. The wreckage was removed and the lot sat barren for years waiting for the right owners to see it’s potential. The land was sold to Sam Crebs. And Sam, in turn, let it go for a song, selling it to Robert Broden at a ridiculously low price. While still living with his parents, Robert and Katherine worked on the lot. First they cleared the area of weeds, stumps, and rocks leaving all the trees intact. Then, between working as Chief Baker’s deputy, Robert’s army pay and Katherine working as seamstress and piano tutor, Robert was able to set money aside for the raw materials. When they had enough money saved, he took a year off from both his jobs to build his and Katherine’s home. 

He hired two extra hands to help build the structure, lay in the foundation, and seal in the fireplace. They had the house up by mid-October. The Brodens moved in shortly afterward. They worked on the finishing touches, moving from room to room. By late February of the following year, the entire house was completed, just the way they wanted it and just in time. They had just finished the last stroke of the paintbrush when Katherine’s water broke anticipating Maggy’s arrival.

Now looking at the house, Chief could see so much of Katherine in it. Her heart and soul were in that house, as they were in all their children. He was surrounded by her, but the warmth did not make him feel uncomfortable. Soon he’d bring another woman into their house. He knew Katherine would approve. He felt that, watching at the house now.

Chief removed the ignition key from the ignition panel and opened his door. The hinges screamed their usual alarm and Chief made a mental note to grease them later, as he had planned several times in the past. He walked slowly and silently up the front steps, unlocked the door and entered the foyer. After hanging his coat up in the hall closet, he made his way into his office and set the transcripts down on his desk. He stared at them for a while as if they could, and might try, to crawl away. Then he went into the back room and removed his pipe from the fireplace mantle. All his actions so far had been in the dark. He had no intention of turning on the lights. The darkness surrounded him. Comforted him. So many mistakes, he thought, as he bent to stoke the dying fire.

After the fire was burning with renewed vigor, Chief took a seat in his favorite leather chair facing the fire and thought about the years he and Katherine had together. Effortless years. And all the time the secret was there–just behind her eyes. He never dared to look. Why? She should have told him. But why didn’t he suspect? Or did he?  All that time. Yet she never told. It must have been hell for her. All the times Fred was at the house.... 

The stairway....

Did something happen? The look in her eyes denied the words she expressed on the damn stairway. Chief had told Fred to meet him at his house that day. They had plans to help train Dobbs’ new litter of foxhounds. Chief had just walked in when he saw them there. The look was unmistakable. It was the same he had seen cross her pretty face that night so long ago, on another set of stairs. Fear... raw terror. Fred almost looked like he had her cornered against the wall and the banister. She almost looked like she was holding him off. But when Chief walked in the front door, their action was suspended. Their composure regained.

“She almost fell,” said Fred ‘matter-of-factly.’ “It was a good thing I got here when I did.”

Chief looked at his wife. She was staring at the ground, avoiding his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. Chief watched as she slowly pulled herself together. She pushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her left ear. Then, looking up at Fred, she said, “Thank you for catching me, Fred.” She looked back at her husband and gave him a smile that all was well now. Did he believe it because he wanted to so badly? How much could have been avoided if he would have just opened his eyes? Saw the truth? He covered it up as much as they did. So many mistakes. His ... Katherine’s ... even Martha’s because she knew. And now Kelly was paying for them– the high price of burying the truth.

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