A/N: As promised, here is the sequel to The Wind Blows Free. To help with the time frame, the first story was during June of 1987, and this story is set during January-February in 1988. Hope y'all enjoy!

Straightening the Curves

Prologue

Balladeer: Howdy, folks, and welcome back to Hazzard County. It's been several months since y'all came and visited. Since that time, some things have changed, some have stayed the same, and some have progressed.

The Dukes are still here, no need to worry 'bout them. Well, Luke's still gone. Remember he got called back into the Marines, but he's due back real soon. Daisy and Enos FINALLY got engaged and their supposed to be gettin' married in March. Bo and Rachel are still married and still expectin' that baby—should be about seven months by now. After saving up money from both jobs—Bo workin' with Cooter and Rachel workin' at the Boar's Nest—they managed to move out of Jesse's house and began paying rent at Eve's house, so they sorta have their own place.

Okay, so now you're thinkin' where the heck is Eve at? That's simple, just last month before Christmas, she married Sheriff Rosco. So obviously she's been livin' with him and she'll get a monthly payment from Rachel and Bo. Ali's still in Atlanta, workin' as a bartender with her friend Roxie. She ain't been back to Hazzard yet.

Well, now that you're caught up, let's get on with the story.

Chapter One: Under Arrest

Six o'clock AM

"Bo, can ya hand me that flashlight?" Cooter asked as he lay on a skateboard underneath the Volkswagen Beetle. The car had an oil leak, and the black substance was dripping all over the mechanic's face. "Bo?" he called again, wiping his face with one hand, which only succeeded in spreading the oil out.

He rolled himself out from under the car and picked up his upper body with his hands to look around. He then spotted Bo talking on the telephone with his usual boyish grin on his face. Cooter knew who he was talking to.

"Bo, you can flirt with your wife, my cousin, when ya get home," he told him in a half-joking, half-serious manner. "I need a flashlight."

"Oh, sorry! Hey, hon, I gotta go, I'll see ya when I get off work, okay? I love you, too, bye." He hung up the phone and jogged to the toolbox to retrieve a flashlight.

Cooter shook his head. "In all my years of knowin' y'all, I never woulda guessed that you'd be ended up married to one of my kin—especially Rach. Thanks," he added after getting the light from Bo and rolling back under the car.

"More believable than the other cousin marryin' the sheriff, ain't it?"

"I suppose, but at least they knew each other for half-a-year before they tied the knot, instead of less than one month. But then, considerin' the circumstances . . ." Cooter let that hang in the air, knowing that Bo knew what he meant. "And to think she's seven months along already!"

Bo smiled. "Yeah, I remember the looks I got when I showed everybody my weddin' ring—and the even more shocked looks when we finally said we were havin' a baby." The blond sighed and looked out the open garage doors into the non-busy streets. "I hope Luke's here when the baby comes. It wouldn't feel right without him here."

"Have y'all heard anythin' lately from my ol' boy?"

"He's written a few times. He's still here in the States, thank God. Of course he's just traini' a bunch of new guys over in Virginia. He hasn't said anything about comin' home yet, though." He rubbed a hand through his thick hair. It was obvious that he missed Luke terribly.

A car pulling up outside broke his thoughts. Bo looked up and saw a dark-colored Rolls-Royce sitting in front of the garage and some man in a dark suit came out.

Balladeer: Now I know he ain't from these parts. See that crease line in them pants?

"Excuse me!" the stranger called out to Bo, not able to see Cooter. "May I have a word with you?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Bo answered him, a curious look on his face.

"Who's that?" Cooter whispered from under the car.

"Beats me," Bo whispered back, heading towards the man in the dark suit. He hoped that this didn't have anything to do with Luke, money, or anything else that might be considered bad news.

"Can I help ya, mister?" the boy asked once he came close enough to the man, a much taller guy than he realized. "Your car not workin' right?"

"No, the car's fine," the man quickly told him. "I'm looking for a Mr. Davenport. Are you him?"

Before Bo had a chance to answer, Cooter popped up from under the Volkswagen and said, "Nope, that'd be me," with his usual grin. He was wiping his hands with a grease rag as he waited for the stranger to state his business—the man giving the mechanic a look over before clearing his throat.

"Ah, Mr. Davenport," he stated, taking out a wallet from inside his coat, flashing a badge at him. "Detective Yulch, Atlanta division. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."

"Why's that?"

"You're under arrest."

Cooter's grin vanished from his face. Bo's jaw dropped. "Under arrest? For what?"

"Murder."

Balladeer: Folks, I don't like where this is goin' at all.

Seven-thirty AM

Balladeer: Now Cooter had to go with the man, regardless whether or not he commited the crime. He was escorted to the Atlanta Courthouse by Detective Yulch and was seated in an interrogation room, which is where we are now.

Yulch threw a manila folder with some photographs inside of it towards where Cooter was sitting at the table. Cooter gave him a strange look, then opened up the folder to reveal photos of a woman who had been gruesomely murdered. Cooter gagged a few times, putting his fist to his mouth and praying he wouldn't lose his breakfast.

"Summer Caskells, twenty-three year old nurse at the local hospital," Yulch stated as he paced the room. "Head wrapped in plastic to suffocate her while bludgeoned with a hammer."

Cooter looked up with a wild look in his eyes. "I didn't do this! I would never do anything like this! There has to be a mistake!"

Yulch didn't answer him. Instead he placed a large yellow envelope on the table for Cooter to see. The mechanic grabbed the envelope, ripped it open and pulled out yet another photo, only this one did not star the murder victim. Cooter placed a hand over his mouth in shock. The photo was of him. Or it looked like him—remarkably so, as well. Everything was the same it seemed. In the picture, the Cooter-look-alike was exiting out a door, a hammer in his hand.

"That was from the security cameras at the hospital that Miss Caskells worked at—was found dead at." Yulch gave Cooter a sinister grin. "And we got you."

"Dang it, I don't care about this stupid picture! That's not me, it just—looks like me . . . a lot like me."

"It is you, Mr. Davenport!" Yulch argued with him, determined to get this guy to admit his crime. "We've been searching for months, showing everyone that picture, and somebody finally recognized you—and here we are."

With a clenched jaw, Cooter looked back and forth between the picture of "himself" and the ones of the late Summer Caskells. He raised his eyes at Yulch, who had a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face and who said,

"If I were you, Mr. Davenport—I'd get myself a lawyer. A good one."

"Oh, and I know just the person for the job," he muttered, although he wasn't sure how she'd take the news—especially at this hour of the morning. "Can I have my one phone call now?"

Things ain't lookin' too bright, are they? Stay tuned for more, and PLEASE REVIEW!