Baby

she found out. She called him her hero, and his kids thought their father epitomized a good moral man. Little did they know the extent of his mushy clay feet. He lost all respect for himself long ago. Hudson fingered the metal of his sheriff’s badge, worn proudly on his shirt; a pathetic disgrace. He reached up, running his blunt fingers through his thick white hair, still amazingly intact, worrying it until most of the hair stood on end. He just wasn’t sure how much more he could take from Robert Doyle. His neurosis over safely detaching from Robert’s malignant clutches completely subordinated the ominous implications of the discoveries made at the farm; the strange and weird parts of Netty’s body, her unusual pet and the extraordinary magnificence of her crops. He tucked the lurking questions away as he prepared to drive to the farm with his deputies to collect the body and start the investigation.

    Sheriff Hudson stood in the field behind the cabin as his deputies poked through the wreckage of the shed where Eli’s body rested. He held a handkerchief to his nose, futile efforts to block the smell of wet cinder and cooked meat. He ordered Eli’s charred corpse remanded to the meat wagon for further examination by the county coroner. While poking through the paltry carcass of the ruined building, they discovered a round hole in the ground where the outside wall used to stand. With the exception of the charring and smaller size, the hole appeared to be a dead ringer to those found in Netty’s grave, an unlikely coincidence. Hudson wondered what Eli found interesting enough to brave walking through a field of rattlesnakes. They spotted two eastern diamondbacks sunning on rocks as soon as they entered the field.
    And what about the hole; Jesus H. Christ , are you kidding me? Something mighty weird and damn serious is going on here. Hitching his pant legs up over his boots, he trudged through the smelly debris to reexamine the hole. Squatting down, he felt the hard burnt edge, wondering what would cause plain ordinary dirt to look like it was burnt; and only on the edges. He didn’t think it occurred from the fire in the building. The burn was too regular, not natural. Remembering the holes in Netty’s grave, he slid his hand into the hole, rubbing the sides of the wall, feeling wet gloppiness. Quickly extracting his hand, he wiped the residue on his handkerchief, carefully rolling the sample and placing it safely in his pocket to send to the laboratory. If he used Robert’s name he could probably get the results back in a week. Not that he expected to find anything worthwhile.
    Kicking his feet aimlessly through the rubble, he meandered away from the shed’s remains, making his way carefully through the field to his police car. Sliding behind the wheel, he rested his head on the back of the seat, his eyes closed. He felt a shudder of weariness snake through his body. Elusive sleep played a mean game of catch-me-if-you-can, tormenting him relentlessly since the murders. He rubbed his tired eyes, enjoying the sensation while he refused to let his mind give credence to the coincidence of the holes. As he started the patrol car, he felt a rumble in his stomach. Not knowing if he wanted to vomit or defecate he pushed the thoughts of horror from his mind and headed to town.
    ###
    “I have Roger on the line, Sheriff.” His secretary stood at his door to deliver the message, her interest in the call ill-concealed, as usual.
    “Okay, Hilda, I got it.” Picking up the telephone, he could hear Hilda softly pick up the extension. No time for delicacy.
    “Hilda, can you please give me a little privacy?” Hudson winced as he heard Hilda give an offended “harrumph.” But she got off the line.
    “Hey, Roger, thanks for getting back to me so fast. Mr. Doyle will be sure to show his appreciation.”
    “No need, Sheriff Hudson, always happy to help out Mr. Doyle. If he needs anything else, you be sure to let me know, you hear?” Roger’s voice oozed so much ass-kissing, Hudson swore his own butt tingled.
    “Yes, of course, Roger, now how about those results?”
    “Well, Sheriff, now that’s another matter. I think you need to come to the laboratory. I don’t think we should discuss this over the phone.”
    Impatience crept into Hudson’s voice as he informed Roger he had no intention of driving four hours to New York City and then four hours back to Newtown for some stupid laboratory results. Hudson took