Vic's phone buzzes and she furiously punches buttons, "Fuck me. Walt!"

"What?" I look up at her.

"You are gonna hate me."

"Why?"

"The game went into overtime and Seattle scored a touchdown ending the game 26 to 20. I'm so sorry you missed the overtime game."

I stare at her contemplating the opportunity that is presenting itself. I know I'm serious about moving on and two days ago if I told her she owed me I would be thinking a cup of coffee or maybe lunch but if I said that now I would still say coffee or lunch but I would be thinking a date. I didn't expect a dilemma to present itself but I didn't expect an overtime game, either.

Vic offers, "Look, I love football just as much as the next guy and if it were the Eagles I would be fucking livid. So thanks for not being a dick about it. I'll take you out next Sunday for wings and beers. It's the least I can do because," she kneels down next to me, putting on her latex gloves, and looks straight at me, "I do feel like shit for calling you."

She smells good. She handled it for me and I didn't say a word. How does she do that? Vic starts collecting potential evidence and recording it in her log book. My stomach aches and I think that maybe I should really eat the half of sandwich she shared with me but then I'm afraid it will come up. The time is perfect, I tell myself, "Hey, Vic, ah…how about we do wings and beer tomorrow…ah Broncs have a bye next week."

"Oh shit, that's right and honestly Walt, my boys play the 49ers and the last thing I need is some fly by night 49ers bandwagon fan to disrupt my concentration with their bullshit. That's a game better suited in the confines of my house where I can curse in peace." I smile thinking of her string of foul verbs.

"Yeah, tomorrow sounds good, as long as you're good with the Bears and Jets."

"You have the whole schedule memorized?"

"Duh, no, if I did I would have known the Broncs were on a bye next week."

"Ah, right." I'm relieved but I also know she is not thinking it's a date but spending time with her is good. It's a very good thing I tell myself.

"Ok, let's roll him." I notice my bark isn't as sharp as normal. We roll John Doe.

"There's the entry wound." Vic points to his lower abdomen.

"Walt, did you see an exit wound on his back?"

"Nope, but I'm wondering if he was stabbed?" I look up checking for security cameras and open windows. Maybe someone or something saw this. "And there's no pooling of blood. He was killed somewhere else and dumped here."

"Who is this fuckin' guy?"

"Dunno. Just know he's not from Durant."

"Ok, well I got his prints on print cards before you got here. I can take them down to have them run or do…." I cut her off, "You handle the print cards and I will get him over to the morgue and hope Doc Bloomfield and get him first in line."

"ok, it's a shame to put him in the back of that beautiful Bronco."

"Well, at least his last ride will be a nice one."

"That's for sure."

"Hey you gonna eat that other sandwich?"

"You can have it."

"Thanks, Walt. You're a life saver." She pats my arm as she thanks me and I think no Vic you're the one that's a life saver and while you're at it can you touch me in a million other place, please, pretty please.

She walks off toward the Bronco, snags the sandwich, and drops it in her truck. She walks back toward me, "Hey I'll grab his feet and we can get him in there easier."

"Let me back up"

"That's why you're the Sheriff. You're so smart." She's half sarcastic and half serious. I love that about her.

We get Mr. Doe in the back of the Bronco.

Vic walks off and I am left in a very soft cloud of Polo Sport for Women, at least I hope that's what it is, but whatever it is it smells good because it's mixed with her.

"See you back at the station?"

"Yup"

I introduce Mr. Doe to Doc Bloomfield. The Doc promises to put him first in line and then asks about Vic. His line of questioning is casual but I can't help but feel a tinge of jealousy. I know that Vic is probably the most eligible woman in the county. She is divorced, no kids, homeowner, decidedly beautiful, loves guns, football and is smart. As I put the string together in my head, I wonder what in the world has taken me so long and the next question becomes why she is still single?

My ego hopes she is just as caught as I am but she doesn't give me any clues either way except the fact that she is still here. Still in Durant.

Doc, call me at the station when you find out the cause of death and the official ruling.

"Will do, Sheriff and please send my best to your lovely deputy."

I keep walking and head back to the alley behind Mike's Muffler shop. I walk the alley again and again looking for a clue any clue. I stop, hands on my hips, and think turning my back on the alley. The bank is across the alley. That will be my first stop in the morning. Banks, all of them have cameras, even in little bitty Durant.

I pull the Bullet to the back of the station and hose down the back. I sanitize it with clean cloths and bring it back to its sparkle clean. While I am drying the rear tailgate I think of how this will become a part of my newness, my rebirth, cleaning the dead and with it the pain. Mr. Doe isn't forgotten. I make my silent vow to find out what happened and to bring justice to his fleeting life but keeping the pain in a permanent space is no longer a part of the routine. I have to have room to love. The pain will have to be temporary, a holding pattern from now on, the love, well now the love has to be a permanent fixture. I want that for me and I want that for her and I know it's because I love her. I love her, completely.