Baby

can settle the question of coincidence if we check the grave where you buried the kid.” Silence greeted the proposal. “Robert? Where is he buried?” Silence. “ Robert .”
    “All right, Hudson. You can check the grave. But you better prepare for some irregularities.” Robert’s voice sounded off. Where were the confidently arrogant intonations of the old Robert? Something was up, for sure.
    “Why don’t you fill me in, Robert? The whole story, please.”
    “Yes, I did have him taken care of in the jail. When the boys came to collect the body, it had already been sent to the coroner’s office. He was just a no account drifter, no family. They assumed Potter’s Field would be fine for burial.”
    “Robert, why don’t you tell me about the body?”
    “Err, yes, the irregularities. It seems the drifter exhibited some of the same strange affectations we found on my unfortunate deceased wife.”
    “Affectations, that’s what you call them? Are we going to continue to dance around this or are we going to start calling a spade a spade? What’s it going to be, Robert?” For some reason, prying information out of Robert was like trying to convince a high school virgin to give it away to the school dork.
    “ Alright; he had a tail. And something was wrong with his blood. It was all over the cell floor. It glowed. And it wasn’t red. We discovered something else during the prep for burial. It seems he was growing wings.”
    “What do you mean, wings? As in to fly? Those kind of wings?”
    “Yes.” The word came across the telephone wire as a fearful whisper.
    Hudson held the telephone to his ear, not doubting what he heard, just astonished. It was not the information that he expected. His stomach began to grumble again. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
    “I need to look at the grave. You know it must be done. Get me the location so I can figure out what is going on.”
    “What do you mean, what is going on? There is nothing going on.”
    “Robert, don’t give me that. Are you blind? You think Eli’s death was an accident? Well, it wasn’t. He was not alone in that shed. Now, get me the location so we can deal with this.”
    “All right, I will get back to you. But do not even think about sharing this information with anyone without my permission or I will have your ass.” The old Robert—clearly back in control.

Chapter 11
    Sheriff Hudson cautiously eased the police car to the curb in front of the two-story colonial that sat next to his target house. He looked carefully at the target, seeing no one in the neat green yard that led to the cheery white ranch style home with vibrant flowering window boxes.
    Emerging quietly from the patrol car, he held one hand behind his back, the contents hidden. Crouching, he quickly sidled up to the door of the house, finding it unlatched. Peering into the small window in the door, he decided the coast was clear. He slid his big body inside the house, softly closing the door with a loud click. He held his breath, praying the sound did not carry to the other rooms. He heard the clink of dishes from the kitchen. He would launch his attack from there.
    He saw her at the kitchen sink, her back to him. He knew she would squirm like a hungry pussycat if he could get her underneath him. He licked his lips as the nape of her neck inflamed him.
    Slowly, so silently, he crept closer, his hidden hand coming forward as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, forcing her to face him as his lips descended onto hers; demanding a kiss from the most beautiful woman in his world.
    “Ummm … what a surprise. Are these for me?”
    “None other, my love.” He held out the bouquet of bright multi-colored roses; always her favorite. He looked at Marne’s aging face, her smile still wide and bright; every line familiar and safe, and loved. When she looked at him, really looked, and smiled that smile … his heart flipped just the way it did when he fell in love with her so long ago.
    “I have the bags all packed. I thought we would eat a quick dinner before we go. It’s a long drive.” Marne moved from between his arms to hunt for a vase for her flowers. Finishing with the flowers, she whirled to face him.
    “I love my roses. You sure are the guy that knows my soft spot. But hon, would you mind?” Her face radiated a mixture of sweet apology and maternal love. He knew what was coming.
    “Can we bring the flowers with us? For Em? She will love the colors.”