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Desperate Measures

Or, Something is Rotten in the State of Kansas 



It was an open secret in Jericho, back in those early days after the bombs and after Beck's reign of error, that our sheriff was, in a word, distracted. Jake Green really only had two interests - the burgeoning with motherhood Heather Lisinski and Gray Anderson, his father's usurper - but still he occasionally tried to do his job, and he was pretty tight with Robert Hawkins, going so far as to consult with the always vigilant deputy at home whenever he was on one of his many administrative leaves. Rob Hawkins was a good cop but he had a bad habit of discharging his weapon first and asking questions later.

One particularly crisp and bright autumn day found Jake pounding on the Hawkins' door, desperate for a sympathetic ear. (This was, it should be noted, a different autumn day from the one on which Jake visited Kenchy Dhuwalia in search of a sympathetic ear.) While the day was particularly bright and crisp, it had also been a bad one for Jake and it was barely noon. Mrs. Mayor - there were a lot of us who couldn't bring ourselves to call her Mrs. Anderson even when we remembered her new name, and Mrs. Mayor was a compromise that worked for everyone. Certainly, if she'd ever wanted to run against her husband - the second one - she would have won in a landslide. Gail Green Anderson was revered in Jericho and she was more than qualified to govern the town.

Anyway, Mrs. Mayor had radioed into the sheriff's station that particularly crisp and bright autumn morning from the Green commune with the news that baby Violet had arrived overnight. She'd asked me to run over to the house to let Jake know and asked me, if I would, to please try and get him to come out to the ranch to meet his new niece. I agreed of course. Mrs. Mayor was hard to turn down after all, and it was nice to be the bearer of some good news for once. Besides, most days it was one of my unofficial duties to roust our sheriff out of bed. He had a lot of late nights back then, always seemed to have a glass of that Razz-Apple Surprise in hand, if you know what I mean.

Following his marriage, Gray Anderson had moved into the Green home with his bride and Jake had moved out. Unfortunately, housing was at a premium back then, and so Jake had only been able to move twenty feet off his mother's back porch and into the detached garage. It was somewhat of a symbolic gesture as Jake still used the bathroom and kitchen in the house, but his mother and step-father supported his choice, reminding us all that he needed his independence. His sisters-in-law had descended one day, hanging cheerful curtains on the windows and placing squishy throw pillows on the lawn chairs and army cot Jake had pulled down from the rafters. Their touches were nice and brightened the garage up, but it was still a bit Spartan. However, Johnston Green's workbench in the corner was left untouched, a shrine to a father Jake refused to forget.

"Well, hello, Jake," Allison Hawkins smiled, throwing open her front door. "Do something for ya?" she practically purred.

"Uh, yeah," he acknowledged distractedly. "Is - uh - is your father home? We were gonna meet about - uh, ya know - official sheriff business."

"Of course," she demurred, taking a step back and gesturing grandly for him to enter. "Do come in."

They made it three steps into the house before Darcy appeared out of nowhere. "Jake!" she declared, wrapping her arm around his. "Oh, this is a nice surprise!"

"Mother!" Allison protested, glaring. Quickly, she latched onto Jake's other arm, tugging on it.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Darcy inquired, ignoring her daughter's peeved expression. "A glass of water? Cup of coffee? Juice? I know how you like that Razz-Apple Surprise."

"He's here to see Daddy," Allison insisted, yanking Jake towards the dining room.

Darcy, though, maintained her vise-like grip on his arm. "Well, really, Allison, where are your manners? He can still have something to drink." She offered Jake a warm smile, adding, "Or anything else he wants." Glancing at the door, her smile faltered slightly. "Deputy Bill isn't with you today?"

 "Uh, no," Jake answered, "Not today, sorry." Darcy let go of his arm then, and he rubbed the spot where he was sure a bruise was forming as he allowed Allison to lead him to the dining room where her father sat at the table, cleaning his gun.

One of his many guns. One of the nearly three hundred guns he would strip down and clean each and every time he was on administrative leave. His family was used to the routine and they worked around him, bringing another firearms case up from the basement every ninety minutes or so, and keeping him well supplied with caffeine and protein bars so he didn't ever have to stop working. He could go like that for three, four days straight. A bit extreme to be sure, but that was the kind of cop Robert Hawkins was.

Three days before, on a rather muggy Indian summer day, Hawkins had been on patrol at the weekly downtown farmers market and swap meet when he'd shot out the tire on Mrs. Herbert's wheelbarrow. Mrs. Herbert, who had been pushing the wheelbarrow at the time, immediately became hysterical, weeping and wailing about how she'd almost been gunned down in the middle of Main Street and how The Powers That Be in Jericho had it in for her. She'd never really forgiven Gray for not defending her farm from the New Berniacs. I had tried to calm her down, tried to explain that Hawkins was a crack shot and if he'd wanted to shoot her, he would have shot her and not her wheelbarrow. Meanwhile, Hawkins had argued that her wheelbarrow was suspicious and had obviously been tagged by gang bangers. (In actuality, Mrs. Herbert's grandsons had decorated the wheelbarrow a few months earlier for the parade celebrating both the Fourth of July and the ASA army's departure from Jericho.) None of this had comforted Mrs. Herbert, though I think if Hawkins had just let me handle things, I could have smoothed it all over. As it was, there was no getting him out of the suspension, even after Jake ran and got Heather to come patch the tire. We had the wheelbarrow working as good as new in fifteen minutes but the damage was done, so to speak, and Hawkins had ended up on a week's administrative leave.

"Sheriff," Hawkins greeted, looking up from his task for a split second. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Jake frowned in confusion. "Congratulations? For what?" he demanded. I should probably explain that after we'd made the requisite social call out to the Green commune to gawk at the baby and slap Eric on the back, Jake had had me drop him off at Heather's. He'd been even more distracted than usual on the drive back to town, not saying a word but obviously engaged in some internal debate. It was obvious to me that even though it had only been four days since he'd last proposed, he intended to try again. But for the eleventh time Heather had turned him down.

"Heard you're an uncle again," Hawkins answered, pushing the cleaning rod through the barrel of a revolver.

"Oh. Yeah," Jake muttered, "Right."

"So, boy or girl? What'd they name it?" Darcy asked, presenting Jake with a glass of Razz-Apple Surprise.

"Uh, girl. Violet," he replied before taking a sip of his juice. "I think that's what Mary said," he added, mumbling into his glass.

Glaring at her mother, Allison forced her way between Darcy and Jake. "Violet Green," she cooed at Jake. "That's such a pretty name, don't you think?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "But, you know, Hawkins, we need to talk." Jake glanced at the two women and then back at his suspended deputy. "About a ... sensitive matter."

Hawkins acknowledged this with a single nod as he placed the gun he'd finished cleaning in its storage case, extracting the next one. "Dee, Allison, if you would ..." he commanded.

 Immediately, the Hawkins women's faces fell, but they did as instructed, shuffling away to seat themselves on the couch in the living room. I always felt a little bit sorry for Darcy and Allison. It was obvious that they craved Hawkins' attention and affection - were desperate for it, actually. And, the more he withheld it, the more they sought the notice of others. Me, Jake on occasion, even Jimmy. Apparently any man with a badge would do, though I do believe that they genuinely liked me. Darcy and I had some great conversations over the years, and Allison really was a sweet kid.

"Now Jake, I know you're opposed, but I think we really need to discuss bringing the DD in," Hawkins continued, not giving Jake time to raise his 'sensitive matter'. "Last week they saran wrapped all the toilet seats in town hall!"

"Yeah, but no real harm done," Jake argued. "Well, except to Gray," he smirked. I've always thought that Jake was in on that little DD prank. For one thing, Jake had already been in the office when I'd arrived that morning and I hadn't had to go drag him out of bed per usual. Plus, he'd been in a good mood and Dale had been there too, hanging out in the sheriff's station though there really had been no reason for him to be, except of course that it unnerved Gray any time Dale or Skylar were in the building. That morning was no exception and he'd immediately cancelled his daily public safety briefing and hightailed it upstairs to his office, snagging a two week old copy of The Jericho Record off Jimmy's desk as he retreated. I'd seen both Jake and Dale snickering behind their hands, and it wasn't five minutes later that we heard the outraged roar coming from the mayor's private bathroom on the second floor.

"Well, what about the Oreo incident?" Hawkins grumbled. He was using a toothbrush to scrub out the inside of his gun's cylinder and he redoubled his efforts. "First time since the bombs we get honest to goodness Oreos in town and the Devil's Duo stays up all night scraping out the crème filling and replacing it with toothpaste!" he complained. "I'm telling you, Jake, one day it's toothpaste in your Oreos and the next it's Ex-Lax brownies."

"They gave everybody who got one of the toothpaste cookies a free snack pack," Jake reminded. "They were just having a little fun. Anything that gets Gray's goat seems perfectly legal to me," he insisted, making a face.

"We can't let dangerous pranksters run amok just because it annoys your stepfather," Hawkins retorted.

 "He's not my stepfather," Jake ground out, his eyes narrowing. "He's - he's my mother's illegitimate husband. A pretender to the - the office of mayor. And besides, we need the DD. They can get things nobody else can, but not if they're in jail. They're good kids," he insisted, "They're not Sean Henthorn, and I'm not lockin' them up."

 Sean Henthorn was a sad and complicated case. He'd been locked up after the incident with Mitch Cafferty and the Greens' stolen horses and he'd just never been released. Hawkins wouldn't allow it, and then with the discovery that he didn't seem to have parents - Mrs. Crenshaw remembered his mother registering him for kindergarten but after a fairly thorough canvass of the town it was determined that no one had actually seen either of them since sometime around Sean's third grade year - there was no one to advocate on his behalf. And so, he was left to languish in holding cell number two. By six months in, about all he did was eat, sleep and hum "Rubber Duckie" to himself, but still we held him. I always felt kind of bad about what happened to poor Sean, but you learned to pick your battles with Hawkins.

 "You just leave Sean to me," Hawkins returned. "Another month or two, and I'll break that punk," he assured. "And, you know, it wouldn't take nearly as much to straighten out the DD."

"We're not arresting Dale and Skylar," Jake countered. "We need them to get things."

 "What? That juice you're addicted to?" Hawkins snorted, rolling his eyes. "Ever wonder what the 'Surprise' is, Jake?" (I have to say that Hawkins had a point. The Devil's Duo had the exclusive distribution contract for Razz-Apple Surprise for northwestern Kansas, Jake was their biggest customer, and the 'Surprise' ingredient was pretty much a state secret.)

 Jake, however, ignored the aspersion cast at what was nearly his one and only comfort in life and continued to press his case. Mindful of Hawkins' dependents sitting not twenty feet away, he took a seat across the table from the other man and leaned over towards him, dropping his voice low. "The DD can get things," he repeated, "Diapers. Formula. Things we're gonna need."

"Things we're gonna need?" Hawkins echoed, one eyebrow raised. "Those aren't things I need," he reminded, "And unless Miss Lisinski has finally accepted your proposal...."

"Well, she hasn't," Jake muttered, "But she will. She has to. And - and, I'm still - it's still my responsibility to help her."

"It might not be," Hawkins reminded, wiping the loosened fouling and solvent off the gun's frame with a rag. "Might be Beck."

 "Of course it's me! It has to be me!" Jake insisted, his tone indignant. "It - it can't be him! That would be a complete nightmare," he declared, shuddering at the thought. "She's - Heather - my - she's - six babies," he managed to get out in one mangled tangle of words. "Six! But don't spread that around," Jake requested quietly. "My mother, she took me aside this morning after we saw the baby and - and she told me about Heather, but it was in strictest confidence, so...."

In perfect synchronization, Darcy and Allison leapt to their feet, scurrying towards the table. "Oh, Jake, sweetheart, that's old news," Darcy clucked sympathetically.

 "Yeah, everyone in town knows about Heather's Half Dozen," Allison added, moving to stand next to his chair, opposite her mother. They both squeezed his arms sympathetically. "We just assumed you knew."

 Eyes wide, Jake looked back and forth between the two women who smiled at him encouragingly. Making a rather high-pitched, strangled noise he leaned forward, letting his head drop on the table with a thunk, shaking it and thus earning a glare from Hawkins over some splattered solvent. "Jake's worried about Miss Lisinski's mental state," he informed his wife and daughter as he inspected a cleaning patch, determining that the gun's barrel was not yet clean. "Because she was defrocked by Beck," he explained, clearly bored with the entire topic. "Voluntarily, but still -"

"Deflowered," Darcy interjected. She fought a grin, saying, "Rob, I think you mean deflowered. Defrocked is what happens to priests. Deflowered is for -"

 "But that wasn't Major Beck," Allison protested. "Everyone knows that Heather, you know, uh... hit one out of the park with some guy in New Bern."

Jake raised his head. "What?" he croaked.

"You know, got a home run. A dinger," Allison clarified.

"But... New Bern?" Jake questioned, his voice cracking softly. "Ted? Russell? Mike? God, no, not Constantino."

"Well, that would explain why she won't marry you," Hawkins offered, "If the man who killed your father is a potential father for her baby - babies."

Groaning, Jake threw himself back down on the table.

 "Well, Ted sounds right," Allison said, patting Jake gently on the back. "The second guy, no one knows who exactly it was. But not Constantino. He was a friend, someone her own age, or close. They got drunk one night and one thing led to another...."

"... only drinks the occasional light beer..." Jake mumbled against the tablecloth, his breath dampening the material. In the next instance, he sat boldly upright. "Wait a minute! The second guy?"

"Yep. There were two in New Bern, one at the army camp," Allison explained cheerfully. "Sounds like he gave her the old 'off to war tomorrow so this might be my last night on earth' line," she added, rolling her eyes. "Then back in Jericho, there was Deputy Bill -"

 "Bill!!!" Jake screeched.

 (I must take this opportunity to state for the record that I have always regretted that Jake learned of my interlude with Heather in this manner.)

 "Yes, Deputy Bill," Allison repeated. The teen and her mother then sighed dramatically in unison, Allison murmuring, "Lucky duck," before completing, "Then the major, and then of course you, Jake."

 "Oh, Jake, honey, you don't look so good," Darcy frowned. She cupped the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair, which earned her a murderous glare from her daughter and which she blithely ignored. "Why don't you drink some of your juice," she urged, rubbing the back of his neck. "That'll make you feel better."

Dutifully, Jake complied with her instruction, though his hand shook some as he raised his glass to his lips. Meanwhile, Allison stepped behind him, shoving an elbow into her mother's ribs to force her to move over so that she could massage Jake's shoulders. "But - but - but Heather was so sweet and pure and innocent," he declared, sitting up in his chair and slamming his now empty glass down on the table. "I don't understand."

"What's to understand?" Allison asked. "It was the end of the world, and a girl's gotta live sometime. What did you think she was going to do? Wait for you forever? She went to New Bern, she didn't join a convent, and it is the twenty first century after all." Groaning piteously, Jake slumped in his seat.

 "You know..." Darcy began, moving a chair next to Jake's and reaching for his hand. "Heather might have slept with a bunch of guys before you -"

"Five," Hawkins supplied, not bothering to look up as he inspected the gun he'd been cleaning. "It was five guys."

 "Thank you, Robert," Darcy muttered, shaking her head. Returning her attention to Jake, she offered the younger man a smile. "But, Jake... she hasn't been with anyone else since you."

 "Yeah!" Allison confirmed enthusiastically. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his. "Got a taste of something she liked! Not gonna settle for second best anymore!"

 "Exactly," Darcy agreed, beaming brightly at her daughter.

Unnerved - though it was hard to say what bothered him more, the suddenly hungry and proprietary look on Allison's face, or her mother's approving smile - Jake gaped as he glanced between the two women. "Heather won't marry me, and Gray Anderson keeps trying to give me fatherly advice and to teach Ruby to call him 'Grandpa', and Mary and April and Trish make jokes about Gray having tea parties with all his granddaughters in a few years, and - and - and yesterday I got up early - was gonna get an early start on the day - and - and - and when I went to get coffee they were in the kitchen, kissing - kissing! - and - and - and - he called her 'Snookums'!"

 The words spilled out of him in a rush and he started to sniffle. The Hawkinses were convinced he was about to cry. "My Dad should be having tea parties with his granddaughters, not - not - not that jerk!" Jake proclaimed, his red rimmed eyes giving him a helpless but smoldering look that pulled deep sighs from the two women.

"There, there," Darcy comforted, patting his arm while Allison's arm tightened around him.

 Hawkins, though, was unimpressed by this display of namby-pamby emotion. "Buck up there, bucko," he advised grumpily. "The good news is, Beck didn't defrock or deflower Heather, and he doesn't have our phone numbers or our addresses in his little black book." Hawkins made a face at the thought. "She did what she had to do, and so did we," he insisted. "Besides, you know what? This is good," he continued, not pausing for a breath - or in his gun cleaning - for even a second. "If there are six possible baby daddies -"

"Babies' daddies," his wife corrected with a smile.

 "Okay, babies' daddies. If there are six of you, then there's only a one in six chance you're the father of any one of them, right? And a one in thirty six chance you're the father of all of 'em. That's like - like - well, a really small percent."

 "Two point seven, infinitely repeating seven percent," Sam Hawkins offered from the living room floor where he sat cross-legged at the coffee table, colouring.

 Okay, now I need to pause for a moment and address the literary critics who will one day read this memoir and undoubtedly gnash their teeth over the fact that I didn't bother to mention previously that Sam Hawkins was sitting in the living room, colouring. There is a good, simple explanation for this, and it isn't that I just forgot. The good and simple reason for not mentioning Sam Hawkins' presence is that he was always at the coffee table, colouring, and frankly the kid was a little creepy. Whenever I was there, I tried to ignore him. Except when he got hungry. He was extra creepy when he got hungry, talking in this low, 'I'm-in-desperate-need-of-an-exorcism' voice. When I was there, if Darcy offered me a couple of cookies, I always split them with Sam.

The Hawkinses didn't seem to notice their son's creepiness, but for some reason they did keep him inside and away from people most of the time. He claimed to enjoy playing football, and he drew pictures of himself playing football, but I knew the family for five years before I ever saw him outside. It was at the Labor Day picnic, and the whole family was in attendance. Darcy had left Sam alone - she was off with the Commune Moms, cooing over their latest additions (Hunter and Kelly, if I'm not mistaken) - and he was wandering about staring at the picnickers and the booths offering hamburgers, hot dogs, deep fried twinkies, cotton candy, and all manner of carnival-type delicacies. "I'm hungry!" Sam had shouted to no one in particular, drawing stares from all around. "I'm hungry!" he shrieked again. In the end, I blew fifty bucks just to shut the kid up. Creepy, I tell you.

"Thanks, Sam," Hawkins smiled at his son. "Two point seven seven. That's almost zero. And, Miss Lisinski can make her own choices, Jake," he informed his boss, "So until she decides she wants to marry you, we need to be worrying about other things. Town security. Darcy, Allison, if you would," he said, waving them away from the table. "Though, Allie," he amended quickly, "Go get my list for me first, would you, baby girl? And, take this back to the basement," he requested, patting a gun case.

The Hawkins females both stood up, each taking one more opportunity to touch Jake as they did. "Jake, honey, I'll get you some more juice," Darcy promised as Allison heaved the heavy metal suitcase off the table.

 Jake grunted in response. Hawkins continued to work, in a steady rhythm, and Sam continued to colour with a beady stare of concentration, though I'm certain he was aware of every movement in the room. Allison trudged back into the room, but gave a smile as she brushed past Jake's slumped form, to the cabinet against the wall, and retrieved a notebook from the drawer. She came to stand between the men, holding the notebook against the edge of the table, running her fingers along the pages as she pushed it towards Jake's elbow.

 Jake glanced at it with little interest. All of us in the sheriff's department had seen it before: Hawkins' master collection of notes about town security. Detailed and precise, the scribblings were none the less nearly impossible to understand, for anyone except Hawkins himself, and his note taker.

 "Read us the most recent list, baby," said Hawkins, barely glancing up.

 Allison was his note taker. The Hawkins kids were home schooled, since Hawkins didn't trust the Jericho school system. He had only ever met one of the high school teachers - he'd once confided to me that he thought her somewhat dangerously unbalanced - and the only grade school teacher he'd ever heard recommended had quit her job, claiming her mechanical repairs were more vital to the survival of the town. I don't know what kind of superior education Allison and Sam were getting at home, but I do know Hawkins claimed his daughter's involvement in his work was valuable real world experience. Whether Allison understood how valuable seemed questionable, as she began reading from the notes she'd taken earlier in a bored tone of voice.

"Item number one: Possible rabid canine."

 Jake, momentarily pulled out of his anguished haze, kept the vague amusement off his face and turned to look at Hawkins. "Sorry, rabid what?"

Hawkins paid no attention to Jake's expression, used to the younger man being slow to catch up to him. "There've been reports of a mangy dog running around on the outskirts of town. It comes out of nowhere, and runs away when approached. I'm concerned about the infectious disease risk."

"How do you know it's even got -" Jake began.

"I've seen it," Hawkins continued. "I don't like the look of it. And besides the risk it might infect some of the children or foolish adults who might approach it, it's got me nervous in another way. It's got a collar."

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?" asked Jake. "Doesn't that mean it has an owner?"

 Hawkins shook his head, methodically stowing one hand gun in its case and reaching for another. "No. You see Jake, it's not the collar itself that worries me. It's the logo on the collar. It looks familiar. Like that of a certain group of mercenaries we know."

 "Ravenwood?" questioned Jake, suddenly slightly more involved in the conversation at the mention of his second greatest enemy. A moment later, he relaxed, the amusement returning to his face. "A Ravenwood collar? So what? Ravenwood's gone. We don't have to worry about them anymore."

"You sure about that Jake?" asked Hawkins in a calm voice. "Ravenwood is a sophisticated enemy. We don't really know what they're capable of. How can we know this dog, this collar, does not have some elaborate device designed to send information back to Cheyenne?"

 Jake just shook his head doubtfully. His mind was already wandering to that dog he'd once owned. The one his father had bought for him. His father, the rightful mayor of Jericho...

 "Jake, you have to think outside the box when you're facing an enemy like this one," Hawkins continued, sending his naive boss a pitying look. "We can't afford to turn into bleeding hearts every time some puppy scampers up and -"

"I've seen that puppy!" came Darcy's voice as she reappeared, quickly placing another glass of Razz-Apple Surprise at Jake's elbow and whispering "There you go, sheriff," in a breathy voice. Turning back to her husband, she folded her arms. "It was adorable!"

Hawkins smirked without looking up. "That may be, but that doesn't mean we should -"

 "He has the cutest little ears, and tail!" Darcy continued, oblivious to her husband's cool affect. "Robert, I don't see why you're so worried about such a cute little thing like that puppy!"

 Hawkins looked mildly irritated for a moment, but merely turned the gun over in his hand, inspecting the other side. "Dee, we don't know what that thing is capable of. What we need to do is -"

"Robert," said Darcy with a chuckle, waving a hand at his ridiculousness and smiling at Jake, ignoring the fact that the sheriff didn't share in her amusement. "What that puppy needs is someone to take of him."

"I wasn't thinking about what the puppy needs," said Hawkins in a low voice, but Darcy appeared to be thinking.

"I know!" she exclaimed. "Deputy Bill! He's just the man for the job."

Allison glanced up, a dreamy expression replacing the look of utter boredom on her face. "That's actually a good idea, Mom. Deputy Bill..." she trailed off, smiling, then glancing at the men seated at the table, continued. "He's got a heart of gold, you know."

 "And a firm hand," said Darcy with a giggle. Allison giggled too. "I'm sure he could tame that wild puppy," Darcy finished, nodding her head triumphantly.

Hawkins didn't giggle. "I don't know about that," he said doubtfully.

Jake sighed, evidently already longing to wrap up the dog discussion and return to his own pet topics. "Look, Hawkins, it's probably just a stray. We've had those around before. We'll just tell people to tell their kids not to do something stupid, like try to tame it. Not like you have to worry about your family going near it, right? You have that - that - de-capitator - de-lousifier -"

 "Verminator 5000," supplied Sam in a low monotone. He didn't look up from his colouring.

 "Right," said Hawkins, with a dreamy smile of his own.

 Jimmy had first told me about Hawkins' security system, the Verminator 5000, in an awed voice, the day after his family had attended a barbecue at the Hawkinses'. He'd seen the box, while looking through the shed with Hawkins, and it had been hidden in the back, behind a croquet set, but Hawkins had apparently beamed with pride as he'd explained its functions to Jimmy. Jimmy seemed more impressed with the croquet set when he told me later, but his description of the Verminator stuck with me. It was a high tech, outdoor, motion sensing security device, and Hawkins proudly explained that before the bombs they had been banned in every state but Texas. I'd heard of them before, in a briefing at work once, and if Hawkins weren't such a dedicated cop, I guess I would have been a little nervous. Let's just say I was glad kids seemed to naturally understand, somehow, that they shouldn't chase baseballs into the Hawkins' yard.

 "Yeah, I guess that baby will work its magic, won't it?" continued Hawkins, looking up from his work for once to stare off dreamily into space.

 "I guess," said Jake with a shrug, ignoring Darcy and Allison's sympathetic tilting of their heads in his direction.

"But, you should be worried," said Hawkins, switching back to business. "Especially since you've got family. And they don't have a Verminator 5000."

 Jake's eyes momentarily flashed. "Didn't you listen to anything I said earlier? No matter how many times I ask, she always -"

"Not her," said Hawkins dismissively. "Those people you live with, and those other people you visit every week. The ones with the little kids running around. You'd think you'd be worried about their safety, with this possible rabid canine prowling the countryside."

Jake shook his head, slowly catching up. "A dog would run away from Gray, and Ruby can't even walk yet..."

 "Well, you'd better hope none of them come down with rabies," said Hawkins. "And that brings me to item two." He motioned to Allison, who glanced down at the notebook with a scowl.

"Item two," she rattled off. "Lax security at the Green commune."

Jake raised his eyebrows at his most dedicated deputy and merely waited for him to explain. "I don't think it's adequately protected from intruders and thieves," said Hawkins.

 Jake began to say something, but Hawkins continued. "Now, I know you're going to say, their security is up to them and it's not a town matter, but seeing as they're now supplying the town with the majority of medicinal and non medicinal natural products, I think it would be in all of our best interests to convince them to better protect their assets."

"I don't know," Jake shrugged. "You really think they're -"

"They're sitting ducks, Jake," Hawkins answered. "Other day, I tested it out. Snuck right around the building, got in the back way, right into the store room with no trouble at all. Your sister-in-law found me, and she offered me a drink!"

 Jake chuckled in spite of himself. "So? They do that to everyone." It was true, and though Hawkins didn't admit it to Jake here, he had stayed half an hour at the commune, sipping his complimentary beverage and trading stories with the Greens and their regular customers. Of course, he told himself he was gathering information, and now, sitting at home with Jake, he was putting his observations into an argument.

 "Look, Jake, I've heard the rumours about why they're so happy over there. Why everyone is so happy. They say there's something in the air, or maybe it's in the water. Or the tea." He sent a pointed look over at Jake, who seemed rather oblivious, giving Hawkins a blank look in return.

Hawkins shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I think there's anything wrong with it, nothing I won't be willing to look the other way for. But I've heard other rumours. About New Bern."

"What about New Bern?" asked Jake, irritation flashing over his face as he suddenly pondered Ted and Mysterious Guy Number Two with contempt.

Hawkins decided he needed to be blunt. "They're drug fiends."

Jake shook his head. Darcy and Allison chuckled nervously. Hawkins gritted his teeth. "Don't you ever wonder how they made it through the winter and then the occupation in such good spirits? What was going through their minds when they took on the ASA?" The other people in the room shrugged, though Sam looked up to meet his father's gaze and gave a small nod.

 Poor Hawkins really was nervous about the New Bern drug rumours. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he'd shown me a picture Sam drew once, of a bunch of zombies marching in a zombie formation, with red eyes and tattered football uniforms. The title "New Bern" was scrawled across the top in red crayon, and Hawkins whispered that this was a dream he had some nights, and he didn't know how Sam could have drawn it so well. He seemed more creeped out about the zombie drug fiends from New Bern, so I, of course, didn't mention how creepy it was that Sam could draw other people's nightmares as though he'd seen them himself.

 "Jake, I don't want to think about it," he continued. "But it's my job to think about all the possibilities. What do you think would happen, if they all marched up to the commune, like zombies, looking for a fix? I doubt they'd be happy to hold hands and sing Kumbaya."

"I've never heard them sing Kumbaya at the commune," shrugged Jake.

"Point is, they need to be better prepared," said Hawkins with a tone of finality. "And they're your family, so you have to convince them."

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure they have some kind of security system already," said Jake slowly. "Not the Verminator 5000, but I'm sure they'd do okay. Besides, it's all just a rumour anyway. New Bern is not hooked on drugs. And my brother and his wives aren't either. They're just...really happy. Everyone is, at the commune."

 "Wish I knew their secret," sighed Darcy, leaning her elbows on the table between Jake and Hawkins, sinking her chin into her hands, and leaning just a little bit more in Jake's direction. Jake didn't even shrink back as he sometimes did, at the close proximity of another human being. He was staring at his knuckles.

"I've heard they know lots of secrets," piped up Allison, glancing appraisingly down at Jake. "They might be able to help you, with your other problem."

 "My other problem?" asked Jake warily. "What, with -"

"Who knows, maybe they can give you some special tea!" said Allison, with growing excitement. "My dad was right. Everyone says there's just something in the water. But I think they really mean there's something in the tea. Maybe it could help you with your...romantic problems."

"Love potion?" Jake snickered. Allison nodded, unabashed, and raised her eyebrows. "Maybe they could give you some, and you could ask her in for a cup of tea sometime -"

"Only in fairy tales," Jake smirked. "Stories with fairies and talking donkeys."

 "Well, you never know," said Allison with a small giggle, recovering herself. "And if that doesn't work, you could always climb up her balcony. You know, serenade her. It would be so romantic." She clutched her hands together and sighed.

Jake glowered. "She lives in a bungalow," he said through gritted teeth.

"So, you're going to talk to your family," Hawkins cut in, before Jake could bemoan his impossible dream some more. "Suggest to them that they might want a plan of action, in case New Bern ever hears the same rumours I've heard. And since we're clear on that, item three." He motioned to Allison again.

Allison glanced down at the page. "Item three: recent talks with New Bern."

Jake shifted warily in his seat. "What about them?"

Hawkins gave a wry smile as he prepared to brief his boss. "Since you were in the bathroom most of the meeting, I thought I should tell you how the talks broke down after you left."

Jake sighed, and hung his head. Earlier the week before, just before Hawkins' incident with the wheelbarrow and subsequent administrative leave, all of us deputies and a few other town representatives, along with the mayor, had attended the most recent of talks with Constantino and his representatives. We'd been trying, ever since we'd been left on our own again, to establish some sort of new treaty with New Bern. So far, it had amounted to a basic 'You fish on your side, I fish on mine, and nobody fishes in the middle,' idea, which would really have been good if we hadn't all been afraid of the rad levels at Bass Lake and could get everyone to agree to even discuss other, more important details. We were still finding it hard, I'm afraid, to get over the fact that they had invaded our sandbox like the big schoolyard bullies they were, and they were still upset about the fact that we wouldn't hand over our lunch money. The meeting that Hawkins was describing to Jake on this crisp autumn day had been the seventh meeting so far to end with both sides storming out.

"Let me guess, Gray and Constantino couldn't agree on terms again," said Jake.

Hawkins nodded. "Your step - ah, the mayor was really floundering. He could have used his stepsons' support. He could use all the support he can get, frankly."

Jake gave a grimace that had just the hint of smug satisfaction behind it. "I don't help Gray."

"For the sake of the town, Jake," said Hawkins.

"Well, I'm glad he's not bowing down to Constantino, anyway. Least he's doing something right. What happened to end the meeting this time?" Jake looked up in interest, in spite of himself.

Hawkins sighed. "Meeting went downhill when Constantino said he wanted to put in a clause about a pound of flesh."

 "Huh?" asked Jake.

"In case someone breaks the treaty," continued Hawkins. "An actual pound of flesh. Freaked everyone out when he made it clear he didn't mean it in a metaphorical sense. Gray was offended and had to take a coffee break."

 Jake shook his head. "Coffee break. You know, my dad would've handled Constantino so much better."

"I don't care who handles him, Jake. I think we need to have a better plan. You know how the tensions rise, every time we sit down across the table from each other. Just how well prepared are we, should New Bern attack us again?" Hawkins looked up from the hand gun he was lovingly cradling and let his question hang dramatically in the air.

"New Bern won't get Jericho," came a low, even tone. Everyone turned quickly, startled at the unnerving monotone delivered in the child's voice. Sam sat, calmly looking around at his family members and Jake, a brightly coloured piece of origami clutched tightly in his stubby little fingers. Darcy, Allison, and Hawkins relaxed and smiled.

"That what it says in your cootie catcher, Sam?" asked Darcy in a voice dripping in affection for her youngest child. She looked around, as if to invite the others in the room to enthuse over her little artist too, especially as she flashed a grin in Jake's direction.

I'm not a superstitious guy, but that cootie catcher always bothered me. Probably just because it was made by the creepy housebound child himself, but there was something really bizarre about the way the whole family seemed to look to the folded, inanimate fortune teller in awe. I'd first encountered it one time when Hawkins was cleaning his guns throughout my report and Darcy was retrieving a batch of freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. Allison and Sam had pounced at the momentary lull in my work meeting with their father, offering to tell me my fortune. I can still remember Sam grinning that evil little grin of his and Allison running her hand along my sleeve and telling me how accurate the cootie catcher had been in predicting the future of the first boy to ask her out in Jericho.

"It said Sean would disappear," she had whispered. "And a few days after our first date...he did!"

Though she wasn't entirely correct, as I had laid eyes on the ill fated boy since then, the sense of reverence the entire family seemed to have for the cootie catcher unnerved me. Jake, on the other hand, looked over at Sam along with the rest of the Hawkinses, an expression of mild curiosity on his face, as the boy lifted the red corner of the paper, and read out the inscription.

 "It says here, 'Jericho will not be defeated until New Bern Woods comes to Spruce Lane.'"

The Hawkinses were quiet, apparently contemplating the meaning of the strange prophecy. Jake, however, chuckled in spite of himself. Allison and Darcy looked on in hopeful eagerness as they hadn't seen him appear so cheerful throughout the meeting. "New Bern Woods?" Jake asked, the amusement clear in his voice. "Trees? Walking down Main Street? What are they going to do, provide shade for people gathered outside Town Hall?" Jake chuckled again, slapping his leg. "Trees. Come to Spruce Lane. Hawkins, you do have one imaginative kid there."

 The look Sam Hawkins was sending in Jake's direction would have made me gulp nervously but Jake didn't seem to notice, sipping enthusiastically at the glass of Razz Apple Surprise. "So, Hawkins, got any other town security threats that are as imminent as that one?"

 Hawkins gave Jake an appraising glance, but resumed his work and motioned at Allison again. "Yes, Jake. Allie, item four."

"Item four," sighed Allison. "UFO risk."

 Jake began to chuckle again, but he relented for a moment at the frightening expression Hawkins was sending his way. "There've been reports that the Terrestrial Mentalists have been painting strange symbols on their roof. Apparently to attract aliens to land there."

Jake struggled to regain his angst ridden composure. "I don't know. Haven't we always said, they're a little weird but as long as they do what they do and don't bother anyone else, we're cool with it?"

"That's just the thing, Jake," said Hawkins. "I'm worried about how the rest of the town might react. They've had to deal with threats from New Bern, the ASA, Ravenwood. What do you think they'll do if they hear aliens might be invading too?"

Jake scoffed. "It's not like the aliens are actually going to invade."

 "True," said Hawkins. "But let me tell you a little story. Back in St. Louis, this one Halloween night, I was on duty when I got a ten-four on a ruckus at the Gateway Arch. Turns out, the whole place was full of people claiming they'd seen three red lights hovering in a circle, for ten minutes, before disappearing."

Allison twirled a lock of her hair as she quickly interjected, "Aliens invading at Gateway Arch. Talk about Manifest Destiny!" As her joke hovered in the air and no one laughed, she looked back down at her notebook with a grimace.

 Jake looked somewhat skeptical but watched his tone as he asked "So what was it?"

Hawkins shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Weather balloon, reflected car lights, kids playing a prank. Point is, the people were convinced it was a UFO. Took a long time to calm that crowd down, and twenty of us to keep the peace. I don't want another Gateway Arch here. Don't know where we'd get the manpower for the crowd control we might need, if people were to panic. With just you, me, Jimmy and Bill."

Jake sat silently for a moment, as if contemplating the short staff at the sheriff's department. Usually, we tried not to let our small numbers bring us down, since we seemed to make it through most emergencies intact, but once in a while Hawkins, remembering fondly the protective environment and cheerful camaraderie of his old squad in St. Louis, would bring it up.

Seeing he had made his point, Hawkins nodded to Allison again. "Speaking of lack of resources, Allie?"

"Item five," droned Allison, stopping to give a loud, dramatic sigh that was ignored by those around her. "Class A Fire risk."

"Fire?" asked Jake, his eyebrows raised.

"Jimmy's house," said Hawkins in a businesslike tone. "We were over there for a barbecue last week, and I saw that Jimmy was using a Super Deluxe Turbo Grill, size large. No fire prevention equipment in sight! And his house is built in a wooded area."

At Jake's questioning look, Darcy smiled helpfully. "He planted two trees in the backyard last year."

"And Woody and Sally built a fort out of scraps of wood," added Allison, clutching the notebook against her chest as she grinned at Jake again.

Hawkins gave her a nod, and her smile grew, but he looked down at the gun he was polishing again and her bored expression returned as he spoke. "Now, I wouldn't normally think it was our job to talk about fire regulations, but since all the fire fighters seem to have vanished from the area, and since our force is so...lacking in manpower, I figure we could do with some fire prevention instead."

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, we can put Jimmy on it next week. He can come up with a fire safety message for the next town meeting."

Hawkins nodded, seemingly glad it had taken so little to convince Jake to take his advice on at least one of his concerns. "And that brings me to my next item," he said, motioning again at Allison, who sighed even more dramatically but dutifully read it out.

"Item six: Possible theft ring."

 Hawkins leaned forward in his seat, reaching for the case at the far end of the table. Darcy helpfully retrieved the one he had just pushed aside and lugged it out of the room. After holding Jake in suspense for a few moments, (in fact, Jake was about to open his mouth to speak), Hawkins launched into his description of the next threat.

"I'm noticing a disturbing trend of petty thefts across town," he said in a grave voice. "I'm thinking it might be an idea to put together a stake out."

 "A trend? How come I haven't heard of it?" asked Jake, wondering briefly how he managed to be sheriff yet so woefully uninformed of all the dangers blossoming around him.

 "The other deputies don't think these are serious crimes," sighed Hawkins. "So they've left them out of official reports. But I believe no crime is too small, especially when I start seeing a troubling pattern."

 Jimmy and I had tried to tell Hawkins we didn't think the following examples were crimes worth investigating, they were just typical goings on in a small town. However, Hawkins, being the experienced big city cop, insisted on looking into them, so we let him go about his job. Who were we to stand in the way of a seasoned veteran?

"First of all, a rutabaga was stolen from the back porch of the Terrestrial Mentalists' house of worship," said Hawkins.

 "A rutabaga?" asked Jake, thinking of how revered the humble tuber was for Heather's fifth guy and his church, and just slightly pleased to hear one had been taken. "What did they do when they found out?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too gleeful.

 "They took it as a sign of course," sighed Hawkins. "Something about the second coming of...whoever it is they think is coming for them. But I think it's a sign of mischief of the worst kind."

"I don't know," said Jake doubtfully. "Vegetable theft isn't really high on the list of crimes you can -"

"It's the significance of it, Jake," said Hawkins, giving him a withering look. "It may be a vegetable to you and me, but to them, it's a religious symbol. Taken right off the back porch of their religious institution. Now, I hesitate to call it a hate crime, but in St. Louis, we took our diversity training very seriously."

 "Hate crime?" asked Jake, fighting the urge to laugh this time as Hawkins' face was getting a familiar zealous expression.

 "But then I started hearing about more thefts. So I started to put the pieces together. The second reported theft involved a cake, baked by one Emily Sullivan."

Jake raised his eyebrows, not daring to speak as he swallowed a chuckle. Allison, from her place at her father's side, and Darcy, who had sidled back into the room, narrowed their eyes slightly at the mention of Jake's former girlfriend. Hawkins paid no attention to any of them, and continued with his tale. "Miss Sullivan told me she'd been working on perfecting her baking skills, making a cake last week. A few days later, she checked the pantry and it was gone. Strange, isn't it?"

Jake nodded, unable to keep the smirk off his face this time. "Yeah. I'd say maybe someone ate it, but then, Emily baked it, so that would be strange."

Allison and Darcy erupted in a cacophony of giggles, silencing themselves a moment later as Hawkins cleared his throat. "I did suggest to Miss Sullivan that the cake in question might have been eaten. She didn't think so. And she seemed very shaken up about it, but she answered my questions bravely. At first." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"At first?" asked Jake warily.

 Hawkins frowned. "Well, until I suggested maybe it had simply gone bad, over the three days since she'd baked it and went back to check on it, in the pantry where she left it. Perhaps a well meaning friend or relative had thrown it out, and it wasn't stolen."

 "And Emily..." supplied Jake, trying once again not to show amusement at the misfortune of someone else. Especially since that someone else was lifting a particularly large rifle onto the table.

"Turned into a holy terror," said Hawkins ruefully, laying the rifle sideways. "Started shrieking and screaming at me, suggesting a number of people to arrest. Everyone from Kenchy Dhuwalia to Reverend Young could be responsible, apparently."

 At the look of utter annoyance on Hawkins' face, Jake kept himself from snickering. Allison and Darcy both made a show of rolling their eyes.

 Jake sighed, pushing aside his now empty juice glass and contemplating the table. "So, rutabagas - actually, a single rutabaga - and Emily's cake. Hardly qualifies as a theft ring, does it?"

 Hawkins shook his head. "There's one more, Jake. Another suspicious theft. The mayor has lost a handkerchief."

"Which handkerchief?" asked Jake quickly.

"One he was given by your - his wife," answered Hawkins. "The mayor's most frantic at having lost it."

"I think I know the one," mumbled Jake, continuing to stare at the table top. "It was a gift. From my father. To my mother. Should never have been given to Gray." He traced his thumb along the surface of the table, and though he said nothing out loud, it was obvious he was thinking to himself about how the handkerchief wasn't meant for Gray. Just like the Green house. The mayor's office. His mother's gifts. Both Green granddaughters. Not meant for Gray. That handkerchief was not meant for him to wipe his bald head with it. Jake glowered as he thought, and muttered some words under his breath. He became aware, in the next moment, of four pairs of eyes on him.

 "I don't know anything about it being stolen," he said quickly. Darcy nodded sympathetically. Allison gave him a knowing smile. Sam coloured.

Hawkins continued to work. Jake shifted in his chair, folding his arms. "So where do you even think you can hold a stakeout, Hawkins?"

"Well, I was going to start outside Town Hall. Then the Terrestrial Mentalists' church. Then the Pines." Smiling, laying the rifle back into the case, he snapped the case shut. "Anywhere I need to, in order to see that justice is served."

"You do remember we're a little short staffed?" asked Jake, his eyebrows raised.

"Right," said Hawkins after a moment of silence. "You...Jimmy...Bill..."

"We're expecting you in on Monday," said Jake. "Jimmy says he misses those talks you have when you take coffee breaks, and you know no one can unstick the fourth drawer in the filing cabinet like you can."

Hawkins was silent at Jake's words. The rest of his family, for once, seemed to be taking a cue from him.

"Well, it's been a good meeting but I think I've got to get back to the office," said Jake, pushing back his chair and standing up. "Thanks for the juice, Darcy. See you on Monday, Hawkins."

Jake gave a curt nod towards the room in general, and let himself out, already contemplating his next proposal and lamenting irritably the lack of balconies on most houses in Jericho.

Sam continued to colour. Darcy went to grab another case from the basement. Allison sighed longingly over the heart and initials she'd drawn in the corner of her notebook. Hawkins banged his fist on the table, thinking of the state of his career since he had left the big city.

 




Contained within this chapter, you will find homages to the movie Over the Hedge, the song "The Lake Song" (it's from 1954), the 1930's spiritual song "Kumbaya" (which gained popularity in the folk-loving '60's), the beloved Sesame Street tune "Rubber Duckie" (which became a surprising mainstream hit in 1970), and to a certain famous playwright whose works are public domain.  Ol' Bill is in there a lot.  See if you can spot 'em all.

 

 

 

 

 



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