***So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child.   Working alone at night, someone fires a shot through the door, shattering it.  Miranda calls for the police.  Was it random or is someone sending a message?***

 

 

 

Mitch pulls into the parking lot on two wheels less than fifteen minutes after Deputy Tyler calls.

 

"You okay?" He hustles towards me, slipping but catching his balance after stepping on the shattered glass pieces.

 

"I'm great. You?"  I try to keep my tough persona going but the quiver in my voice gives my true emotional state away.

 

"Tyler," Mitch calls over his shoulder. "Go take a drive around the building and a couple miles down the road.  See if anyone suspicious is hanging around."

 

Mitch reaches down and picks up my shaking hands.  "Dispatch said you handled yourself like a pro."

 

"They lied.  I was scared shitless."

 

He smiles. "They never said you weren't scared.  Only a fool isn't scared when a shot is fired."

 

"As scared as I was, they could have killed me ... but they didn't.  They waited until I stepped to the side and then shot."

 

"Who have you pissed off lately?"

 

"The shorter list would be who haven't I pissed off.  Now, Matt is going to be pissed because he has to replace the door."

 

"I'm sure he has insurance.  You didn't shoot it.  Why would he be angry with you?"

 

"You don't know Matt," I mumble.  "He came out of his mother bitching about something."

 

He nods and looks around.  "So where were you when the shot was fired?"

 

I walk over to where the little pile of dirt and sand are.  I can see it mixed in with the glass pellets. "I was kneeling down to sweep up the dirt.  The rug is still out there.  A truck pulled in and stopped back there.  They revved their engine.  I stood up to see if I recognized them.  I took a step back and pow.  They blew through the door.  Then they started driving closer.  That's when I ran back to the office and hit the lights.  Then I called 911."

 

Mitch looks around.  "They could have walked in and taken the money from the register.  So, it appears they weren't trying to rob you. And you feel like if they had wanted you dead, they had the opportunity to kill you.  It sounds to me like redneck mischief to me."

 

I feel a little miffed that he is downplaying tonight's events.  "So, this was just mischief?  Unfucking believable.  I'm sorry for wasting your time, Sheriff."

 

"Calm down, Miranda.  It was scary.  I know it was.  You've been through a lot.  You found Ed Preston's body, found what you thought was the murder weapon.   Now this."

 

His words do little to disarm me.  "Will you call Matt or should I?"

 

"I'll call him.  I'm going to have Tyler stay until he can get here.  I'm going to follow you home.  Would that be alright with you?"

 

I shrug. It doesn't really matter what I say.  Mitch is going to do what he wants.

 

                    **************

 

Aaron is in my yard when I get home.  He and Waylon are tossing a nerf football to each other under the glow of the porch light.

 

Both stop and stare as Mitch pulls in behind me.  He's in his own car, a shiny, new, black Honda Accord  My ugly but faithful cobalt blue compact looks like it's from another era.

 

"Evening," Mitch says, coming to stand by me.  "Tossing the football around?"

 

Aaron nudges Waylon.  "Thats a very astute observation, Officer."

 

I wait for some sort of reaction from Mitch but he laughs.  "I'm off duty.  I don't make astute observations off the clock."

 

Both Aaron and Mitch seem to relax.

 

"Well, thank you for making sure I got home safely.  Unless, since you're off duty, you'd like to sit on the porch and have a beer."

 

"Domestic, right?  None of that IPA swill."

 

"I think you'll fit in nicely around here." I tease.

 

Aaron and Waylon go back to tossing the football and I rejoin Mitch with a bottle of beer for each of us.

 

He looks up at the sky.  "You do this often?"

 

"What part? Get shot at? Get escorted home by the police?  Invite the cops to have a beer with me?"

 

"Sit outside and look at the stars."

 

I look up.  "Almost every night.  This is cheap therapy."

 

"It sure is nice.  Pretty back here.  You got trees all around.  Each mobile home has a yard.  It's real nice."

 

"I've got people asking me why I live in a trailer.  But it's mine.  I might have bought it with Farley, but when he left, I took over the payments, added this little porch."

 

"What do you mean, you added it?"

 

"Called my dad asked him to figure out what supplies I needed for an eight by eight porch.  Then he talked me through construction."

 

"My gosh.  You're a little DIY queen, aren't you?"

 

"You sound surprised.   I'm not afraid of a little manual labor."

 

"You're not as tough as you want everyone to think.  You forget, I've seen you cry," he whispers as he leans in close to my ear.

 

"You tell anyone and I'll have to kill you."

 

"It's a secret I'll take to my grave."

 

I finish my beer and carry my bottle back into the kitchen.  I look around.  The trailer is pretty neat. Thankfully, I was almost finished cleaning when Missy called.  

 

"Mitch, you can come inside, if you'd like."

 

No response.  I walk back to the door and I see Aaron, Waylon and Mitch throwing the red, white and blue nerf football to each other.

 

Once again, proving that men are just larger versions of little boys.  And boys like their toys.

 

 

To be continued ...