DALE CALLAHAN

I arrived at Finney Park feeling an equal dose of relief and exhaustion. The relief came from knowing Dolly was no longer on my bed contaminating my sheets with her terrible cologne. I considered burning the sheets when I got back. As for the exhaustion, well you know –

Sheriff Roscoe stood by the gate with a cigar the size of a fist between his lips. The weird thing about it was that Roscoe didn't smoke.

First the sigh now this.

"It's a bloody mess, kid." He said as I approached him.

I got close enough to notice his hand shaking. This was also a first. Sheriff Roscoe...