Chapter 1

     The sound of a twig snapping underfoot broke the silence of that cold November morning. Detective Karst paused to listen with his senses on high alert. He eased his way carefully through the brush. It was impossible to walk unnoticed with the snow crunching an icy sound beneath his boots. His eyes scanned the area ahead of him when suddenly he heard the cracking noise of a gun blast. Karst froze in his spot. He called out, “Do you think you hit him?”
     Sheriff Smith answered, “I’m not sure. I’m gonna release the dog. If he’s wounded, Lance will find him.”
     Karst hiked toward Smith’s voice with his shotgun poised, ready to fire.
     “I didn’t see a thing. How’d you find him?”
     “I saw him over there, crouching down, sneaking through the brush,” replied Smith.
     Moments later, they were joined by Lance, Smith’s yellow lab. He retrieved the pheasant Smith shot.
    “That makes three for me and none for you this morning,” teased Smith.
     “Yeah, Dave, I’m just getting warmed up.”
     Strolling along the edge of a cornfield not yet harvested, the swish of wings and dry cornhusks alerted Glen to raise his shotgun, dropping two birds with one shot. Lance ran ahead to retrieve the birds.
     Glen glanced at Dave with a smile on his face. Not a word was spoken. Twenty minutes later, Glen dropped his last bird of the morning. Reaching their limit, they returned to Dave’s house for a hot cup of coffee to drive the chill from their bones. Shelly greeted them at the door to remind them to clean their trophies outdoors, not in her kitchen. Leaving the pheasants outside, they entered the house. The aroma of cinnamon rolls filled the room.
     Shelly poured coffee while Dave passed a plate of steaming rolls with melted icing to Glen before helping himself.
     Glen leaned back on his chair, pondering what life in a rural area has to offer.
     “This is so peaceful. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”
     “Yep, I sure do. Since I left Denver, I’ve never looked back. I can honestly say I don’t miss that rat race one bit. No more calls to jump out of bed in the middle of the night. The worst thing I have to deal with here in the middle of the night is a barking dog complaint.”
     “Boy, must be rough. And to think I passed up this job to let you have it,” said Karst.
     “Oh, come on, you know you’d never leave the city. You thrive on all that action. I mean, we sure as hell don’t have a S.W.A.T. team out here. What would you do for your adrenaline rush? My guess is, when you’re in the thick of it you couldn’t be happier. If I can drag you away once a year to go pheasant hunting, it’s a damn miracle.”
     “Yeah, you’re probably right. Whenever I’m here, I have the same fantasy of moving here forever. But I think I’d be too fidgety after the first few weeks. I do like to be in the center of the action.”
     “Hey, are you guys gonna just sit there and talk all morning or are you gonna clean those birds so I can fix them for supper?” teased Shelly.
     “I don’t want to miss the chance to have Shelly fix pheasant, no one can cook them like she can,” winked Glen, as he got up to step outside to start on the birds.
     “How’s Shelly getting along, now that you guys have been here for a few years?” asked Glen.
     “Better,” answered Dave. “It was a little tough at first. She missed her friends and the shopping, of course. I think most of all she missed the restaurants and the movies. We’ve adapted though. Once a month we drive to Fort Collins or Denver for a weekend of the city life. Makes it easier when we come back to the slow pace of this area. We’ve started going to the ball games. That’s the biggest event of the community. Shelly has a few clubs she’s joined. She likes the church we go to.”
     “Well, that’s the last one,” said Karst, wiping feathers and blood from his hands.
     “Let’s take these to Shelly, then I’ll take you downtown with me,” said Smith.
     “Sounds good. You can show me what I’ve been missing.”
     Smith and Karst cruise Interocean, the main street, like the teenagers. Many people leave their vehicles idling on this cold and snowy morning while they shop the stores lining the small town street. Other residents rush hurriedly down the sidewalks.   The post office is one of the busiest stops. The local coffee shop is filled with farmers passing time and telling stories while waiting for the long winter days to fade. At the first signs of spring they return to the fields. Social life in the country remains strongly seasonal. When fall harvest is completed, the community relaxes, focusing its attention on school sports.
     When Holyoke’s team made it to the state tournaments nearly the entire town closed down, allowing everyone to drive to the games. The city people who come to visit feel they’ve stepped back in time with little change taking place year after year, season after season.
     Karst lowered his window to listen.
     “What’d ya hear?” asked Smith.
     “Nothing, that’s just it. No honking horns, no sirens, only quiet sounds of people moving slowly through town.”
     “Yeah, pretty great, huh?” laughed Smith.
     He parked in front of the drugstore allowing Karst a chance to soak it all in. Everyone who passed the two men, seated in the police cruiser, smiled and waved as they went by. Even the kids greeted them with smiles.
     “I suppose you know all these people.”
     “Not all of them, but most of them. Their routines are predictable. You can find the same people day after day, running the same errands or taking walks. This is actually a touch of heaven. Life is good here.”
     Smith experienced tough times while on the police force in   Denver with Karst. Street violence took the lives of his two partners. Emotional recovery came slowly for him. When you lose a partner, you feel like you should have done more, or that it should have been you instead.
     Smith himself had been shot twice. Nothing serious either time, but enough to give him a wake-up call about the dangers of police work. Drugs and gangs played an integral part in the violence. In the past, most of the calls had been domestic violence, robberies and bar room brawls.
     Now, officers are forced to explain to mothers that their son or daughter was killed in a drive-by shooting, a gang war or simply for walking down the street at the wrong time. Many of those young people were wholesome kids who were minding their own business.
     When Smith woke up in a hospital room, recovering from his last gunshot wound, he learned his partner wasn’t so lucky. After the funeral, Smith decided he could not handle the job or city life any longer. He and Karst had been discussing a job opening in a rural community in Eastern Colorado. Karst wasn’t ready to leave the city, so Smith took the job.
     Packing up his wife and two kids, Sean and Ann, the family relocated to Holyoke, Colorado. Fortunately, the kids were both in middle school, making the transition easier than dealing with the peer pressure of high school. The new kid on the block is traditionally a difficult situation to face.
     “Come on,” said Dave, as he got out of his car.
     Glen followed obediently, “Where are we going?”
     “Thought we’d stop in at the coffee shop to see what’s going on.”
     The regular customers attention turned to the door every time the bell chimed.
     “Hey, Dave, thought you’d be out pheasant hunting this morning,” said Larry, one of the local farmers.
     “Back already, we had a good morning. We both got three. Of course, hotshot here got his three with only two shots.”
     “All that fancy city police training you have and you let this city slicker get the best of you?” teased Bob, another local.
     “Hell, Karst’s not your typical city slicker gone hunting. He’s on the Denver S.W.A.T. team. We used to work together.”
     “Ain’t there some kinda law against a S.W.A.T. cop shooting poor defenseless birds?” asked Dan, yet another farmer killing time in the coffee shop on a Saturday morning.
     The place erupted into laughter. Dave and Glen sat in a booth. The waitress stopped by with a pot of coffee. “The usual?”
     She gave Glen the once over. It wasn’t often they had good-looking strangers come into town. Glen, with his soft green eyes and light brown hair, caught her attention. She watched as he walked toward the bathroom. He was tall and fit, with no potbelly like many of the locals. She sighed when she noticed his wedding ring.
     “Make that two,” answered Dave.
     She came back with two large jelly doughnuts.
     “Dave, we just had cinnamon rolls. How do you have room for more?” asked Glen.
     “It’s all part of life in the country. I plan to put on about fifty pounds and enjoy every minute of it,” said Dave, as he patted his expanding middle. Dave had the same softness to his hazel eyes. His hair was a dirty blond, but with his expanding waistline he didn’t turn heads like Glen. “Homemade pastries are the best vice a person can have out here.”
     Glen took a bite of his jelly doughnut. He had to agree with Dave, they melted in your mouth in a way the customers of the corner doughnut shacks in Denver could only imagine.
     “Are you guys going to the game tonight?” asked Larry.
     “That’s the plan, unless Glen decides not to.”
     “Count me in, when in Rome, ya know.”
     “Your son gonna play tonight?” asked Larry.
     “I hope so,” responded Dave.
     Dave scanned the room out of habit. Since it was hunting season, strangers were everywhere. This was a good year for hunting and word spread quickly. There were more hunters in the area than previous years and they were good for the town’s economy. They stayed in the motels, ate in the diners and shopped in the grocery stores. They were generally easy to get along with and behaved themselves.
     They also contributed to the county population of stray dogs.   Many a hunting dog the owner felt was well trained and primed for the hunt would run off in the direction of a bird never to return. The hunters would give up on their birds and spend the rest of the weekend searching for their dogs. A week or so later, a hungry pooch would show up at someone’s farm and take up residence.
     “Let’s go by the station,” suggested Dave.
     Glen finished his coffee, nodded to the guys then followed Dave out the door. They crossed the street, got into the cruiser and drove three blocks to the station.
     Dave read his messages, made a few quick phone calls and signed checks. Glen nosed around the office, reading a file here and there.
     “You aren’t kidding when you say it’s pretty quiet around here. Looks like speeding tickets and summons work is the bulk of your duties. Don’t you miss the excitement of homicide just a little?”
     “I’m telling you, I’m a changed man after that last stretch in the hospital. I need to stay safe for my family. They’re not ready to live life without me. Doesn’t Debbie worry about you every time you step out the door?”
     “Yeah, I guess, but she knew going into the marriage that was part of being a cop’s wife,” answered Glen. “Besides, I do everything possible to be sure not to make a widow out of her.”
     “Well, knowing what she was getting into still doesn’t make it any easier,” said Dave. “Shelly sleeps better now because nothing really dangerous happens around here.”
     “Sounds like you’re trying to get me to slow down and follow your lead,” said Glen.
     “When the time’s right, I’ll lead you into a more peaceful existence,” said Dave, slapping Glen on the back.
     “Let’s go get a bite to eat. It’s lunchtime.”
     “You’ve gotta be kidding,” moaned Glen.
     “Oh come on, it’s cold outside, gotta eat enough to keep ya warm.”
     “Yeah, but we’re not bears storing up for a winter hibernation,” Glen chided.
     The two had just gotten into the car when a call came across the radio for Dave. “Hunters trespassing on the Olsen place.”
     “Got it,” responded Dave.
     “We’re ready for some action now,” teased Glen. “You sure we don’t need the National Guard?”
     Dave drove over to the Olsen farm where Mrs. Olsen answered their knock.
     “Those guys came by yesterday asking if they could hunt in our trees and we told them no. We even have signs posted. As you can see, they’re out there as big as you please looking for birds.”
     “We’ll ask them to leave,” promised Dave.
     Dave and Glen parked on the road next to the hunter’s pickup truck. Dave stepped out of the car and Glen followed his lead. Dave was in uniform, but Glen was not so he reached into his pocket for his badge and hooked it to the waistband of his jeans. Dave reached his hand back inside the car and honked the horn. The hunters looked up then headed toward them.
     Dave walked partway out to meet them.
     “How’s the hunting?” he asked.
     “Not bad,” replied the older of the two hunters.
     “Might try hunting somewhere that doesn’t have No Hunting signs posted, men.”
     “Gee, I guess we didn’t see those signs. Sorry officer,” answered the same man.
     “You know, if your eyesight’s not good and your hearing’s bad, maybe you should go back to where you came from and skip the hunting trip all together,” suggested Dave.
     “There’s nothing wrong with our eyesight or our hearing. I told you, we just missed the signs,” replied the same man, a little more testy this time.
     “According to Mrs. Olsen, her husband told you yesterday you couldn’t hunt here. I just assumed you didn’t hear him, like you didn’t see these signs. I think you two should load up and leave this county. I don’t want to see you hunting around here again. If I spot this pickup, I’ll haul you in. Have a nice day.”
     They returned to the car.
     “Sometimes I’d like to arrest guys like that just for insulting my intelligence,” complained Dave.
     “Gee Andy, you handled that real good,” laughed Glen.
     “So my life out here makes you think of Mayberry, huh?   Someday you’ll be begging me to take you on as Barney,” Dave laughed.
     Before they could drive back for lunch, another call came from the dispatcher. Someone had fallen through the ice on one of the ponds east of town.
     When they arrived at the scene, the ambulance and a small crowd of people surrounded the victims. A hunter’s dog fell through the ice. He tried to save the dog and fell in himself. Both were out of the frigid water, a little cold and shaken up, but fine.
     “Now, let’s go get that lunch before something else happens.”
     “Isn’t this unusually busy for you?” asked Glen.
     “Yeah, I’m just trying to show off.”
     After lunch they stopped by the station, then drove back to Dave’s house. They spent the rest of the afternoon visiting about old times and old cases. Glen brought Dave up to speed on some of his current investigations. The two complimented each other’s skills. They were good friends, but never partners.
     Dave found he missed some of the detective work. He felt his brain was not being challenged due to the lack of crime in Holyoke. Fascinated, he listened to Glen describe the new forensic lab equipment.
     Glen enjoyed that type of detective work. If his investigation required the use of the lab, he would spend as much time there as the case would allow. He became good friends with the pathologist and other staff members. Sometimes he felt his cases might have gotten a little more priority because he was so well liked and didn’t mind helping out. He asked endless questions, not trying to stroke their egos, but being sincerely interested in their work.
     Sean and Ann listened to the stories for a little while. Sean was getting ready for the game. Ann was a cheerleader. Both kids were smart, good looking and respectable. Dave and Shelly did a good job raising them. They made the right choice by removing them from the public school system in Denver. They had made several friends, but were not pressured into drug and alcohol use at the local high school. No one wanted to get the cop’s kids in trouble. The town was too small for that.
     Shelly called the guys to the table for their pheasant feast. The kids didn’t like pheasant; they preferred to eat pizza in town with their friends before the game.
     Shelly prepared the birds to perfection. Glen enjoyed them, as always. Debbie was relieved Glen didn’t bring the plucked and bloody birds home for her to prepare, making everyone happy.
    Shelly cleared the table. It was time to drive to the gym for the game. She and Dave always went together. Tonight he suggested they take separate vehicles in case he received a call since he had let the deputy off tonight to watch the game.
     Dave and Glen waited in the parking lot for Shelly. People waved and nodded as they walked through the gym. Shelly’s friends saved seats on the top row, the only place to sit where you could lean your back against a wall. Sitting on bleachers for hours takes practice; most of the town people were seasoned veterans.
     The buzzer sounded alerting the large crowd that the game had begun. It was a big night for the local team. The sound of the crowd, the buzzing of the scoreboard, the smell of popcorn, all reminded Glen of his days as a school athlete.
     Tonight the school was trying to raise revenue for new uniforms with a wider assortment of food being served. There was a constant flow of spectators from the bleachers to the snack bar.
     Just before half time, Dave suggested he and Glen take a stroll outside to be sure there were no kids drinking in the parking lot. He knew there would be and the kids knew he would be coming out, they just didn’t know when. It was a cat-and-mouse game they played. It worked, keeping the drugs and alcohol down to a minimum, knowing they could get busted at any moment.
     The two cops made their rounds watching kids disappear around cars as they walked. The smell of beer being poured out onto the ground filled the night air. Those same kids would casually stroll past Dave and Glen to go inside to watch the game. You could be certain for the rest of the evening those who were spotted would remain clean as a whistle.
     Glen found the whole scene somewhat amusing.
     The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first half. Glen and Dave returned to the warm building, stopping to visit with people in the hall. Dave bought a bag of popcorn, but Glen couldn’t eat another bite.
     They made their way back to their seats. Dave proudly waved at Ann on the gym floor, performing a halftime cheer for the home team. He glanced down at the bench where the team sat flashing a thumbs-up to Sean.
     The buzzer sounded again; the game resumed. With the third quarter barely underway, Tim, the star player from the home team, fell to the floor. The crowd waited for him to get up assuming he stumbled on his shoestring.
     Dave said, “Wow, he must’ve gotten the wind knocked out of him.”
     The gym grew eerily quiet. The referee and the coach went to   Tim who remained motionless on the floor.
     The crowd watched in silence.
     “Is Doctor Foster here tonight?” the call came over the intercom system. “If Doctor Foster is here, please come down to the court.”
     Tim’s parents worked their way down the bleachers to check the condition of their son. The coach stopped them at the bottom.
     Dave and Glen jumped up to assist, knowing something was wrong. Dr. Foster was kneeling over Tim when the two officers arrived at his side. A crowd of athletes shielded the view from the bleachers. Dr. Foster began CPR with Glen assisting. Dave noticed more people leaving their seats.
     “Would everyone please remain seated. Dr. Foster has everything under control. I’m sure Tim will be just fine. We’ll let everyone know as soon as we know what happened.”
     The EMTs arrived with a stretcher. Tim was not breathing. Inserting a tube down his throat allowed them to bag him until they could get to the hospital. The crowd appeared horrified; cheerleaders were crying. Tim’s parents were escorted through the crowd to the ambulance. Whispers continued throughout the gym. Every eye was on Tim and his parents as they left the floor.   Fans were motionless; Tim’s teammates were wiping tears.
     The team took a few minutes to regain their composure. The coach reassured everyone Tim was in good hands and everything should be fine.
     “Well guys, are we ready to win this game for Tim?” asked the coach.
     The boys looked at the coach, then at each other. One of the boys said, “For Tim!” as he slapped the hands of each team member.
     The coach signaled to the referee they were ready. The buzzer sounded, the players returned to the court to continue the game.
     Most of the spectators stayed but Shelly left the building; she wanted to be sure Tim was fine. At the hospital she would visit with Dave.
     The remainder of Tim’s family, as well as close friends of his parents, appeared at the hospital to offer moral support.
     When the ambulance arrived, everyone rushed at top speed. In the emergency examination room, Dr. Foster and his staff tried desperately to revive Tim, but were unsuccessful.
     Dave and Glen stepped into the room to gather information for Tim’s parents, Rose and Ed, who paced the hall. Rose tried to be brave. Ed kept telling her Tim was a strong young boy. Whatever happened out there on the court couldn’t keep him down.
     Dave studied Tim’s limp gray body on the table, a sight he and Glen had experienced too many times before. Dr. Foster’s eyes caught Dave’s. He shook his head.
    “Let’s call it,” he said.
    “Eight forty-seven p.m.,” replied the nurse.
    Dave sank onto a round stool with wheels in the corner of the room. He knew what he had to do next. He dreaded going with Dr. Foster to inform the parents.
     Glen watched from across the room. Instantly aware of the gravity of the situation, he went to his old friend, laying a supportive hand on his shoulder.
    “Can I help? Would you like me to tell his family?”
    “No, that’s okay. Dr. Foster and I will do it. I’m sure they’d rather hear it from us,” answered Dave.
    Dr. Foster, the nurses, the EMT crew and the two officers remained in the room for a moment of silence to regain their composure before meeting with them.
    Tim’s parents looked pleadingly at Dr. Foster as he stepped out of the exam room with Dave at his heels.
    “So Doc, what happened? Is he going to be alright?” asked Tim’s father.
    Before he had a chance to answer, Tim’s mother looked into   Dave’s eyes. He could not hide the pain he felt.
    “No! No! Tim! Please God, not Tim,” she sobbed.
    Her husband stared at her, wondering how she knew anything when no one had spoken. He turned his gaze back to the doctor.
    “I’m sorry, Ed, he didn’t make it. We did everything we could. He seemed to have died almost before he hit the floor.”
     “But…what happened? He was such a healthy kid? Was it his heart?”
     “At this point, I don’t have an answer for you. After the autopsy we should know more.”
     “There’s not going to be an autopsy! You’re not going to cut into my son!” screamed Rose.
     “Now, honey, maybe Doc’s right. We should try to find out what happened.”
     “I said no one is cutting up Tim. That’s not going to bring him back. He died and we’ll bury him with respect. He’s not getting butchered to answer some questions.”
     “I guess there’ll be no autopsy then,” said Ed.
     “I want to see Tim, now,” said Rose.
     Dr. Foster led them into the examination room to view their son’s lifeless body. Standing next to him, something came over his mother. She was terribly distraught, but she had this strong sense of Tim’s presence¾a peaceful presence. She looked at the body that once encased the soul of her son. It was nothing more than a shell now; Tim was no longer connected to it.
     She felt the pain a mother feels when she loses a child, the sick wrenching pain deep in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to vomit, but that haunting feeling that he was in a better place kept her from losing control.
     Rose and her son were extremely close. She had the feeling Tim was trying to reach out to her, to tell her he was okay. Or was she just trying to cope in any way she could, by imagining the feeling? Either way, it gave her a small shred of comfort in an otherwise devastating situation.

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