Stanley stood staring blankly into the night sky. The blood pooling at his feet in the ally took on a silvery shimmer in the moonlight. "Soon," muttered Stanley as he turned and walked calmly out into the street. Sirens wailed in the distance. He quietly disappeared into the night "soon."

Turning his cruiser onto Main Street, Allen picked up his CB and squawked dispatch. "Dispatch, this is car 19..."

Before Allen could finish, the dispatcher came back. "Of course it is Allen. Car nineteen is the only car that cruises this town at night, and of course, you know I am the only other person in the godforsaken town who is available for night shifts, so seein' as there ain't nobody here but us nuts, I think we can skip the formalities."

"We could Lacey, but all callbacks are recorded and must be done by the books, and no, I do not know how, nor do I have the authorization to delete what you just said from the records, so unless you want your first week on nights to be your last week of employment, I suggest we stick to the books and do our jobs." Allen hoped Lacey could not hear his smug little smirk through the radio.

"Yes sir, sorry sir. Um.. this is dispatch, go ahead car nineteen."

Allen cleared his throat to stifle an eminent chuckle. "Roger dispatch, just making one last cruise down main and I will be heading back to the station. Would you like me to grab you a coffee and a snack from Penny's on my way..."

The last bit was a muffled curse almost drowned out by the sound of a heavy foot on the breaks and the wet squeal of Allen's cruiser coming to a skidding stop. "Car 19, car 19, this is dispatch is everything alright?" Visions flashed in Lacey's head of an internal investigation turning up her faults being responsible for Sergeant Fairway's cruiser losing control and slamming into some kid while he was distracted by her shenanigans. Agonizing moments passed.

The radio crackled to life. "Goddammit, yeah I am fine, but old lady Diedrah's dog almost wasn't. Looks like it got loose again and is hanging out in the alley behind Dan's Deli. Gonna step out a moment, grab it and return it to her," he sighed heavily "again. And this time is the last time. Next time it is going to the pound."

"If it doesn't end up under someone's tire first. I mean, Roger car 19. Please take your portable with you, over."

"Right you are Lacey, I mean roger dispatch, switching to portable."

Placing the mic back neatly in its clasp, Lacey lifted her coffee cup and a wisp of steam kissed her lips as she inhaled slightly in anticipation of the bitter goodness and warmth. She liked to consider herself somewhat of a coffee connoisseur and enjoyed the evening conversations over the surprise flavors that Allen had been bringing her each shift from Penny's. She liked the challenge of guessing and the look of delight it brought to Allen's face when she got the flavor right. A small hint of a warm smile played across Lacey's lips. She sipped. Though Lacey had only been on the job a few weeks, and in town little more than a couple of months, Westerheights was her home. She grew up here and knew almost everyone. There were a few new faces since she returned from the academy, and some of the faces she remembered had moved away to tackle life away from "The Pit", and a couple other, older, wiser, passed on to better places, but for the most part, Westerheights was the same, quiet little, close-knit town where almost everyone was family and strangers would bless you when you sneezed. The thought brought a fuller smile to Lacey's lips. She sipped. She spat and flailed her arms. Her cup left her grip. Her chair unbalanced and tipped. As her head bounced off of the hardwood floor, a sort of hollow, almost shell-shocked muffle overtook the room. She could almost hear Allen. How, she thought, a ringing in her ears still somewhat muffled Allen and her thoughts. "The radio never scared me like that before...", she blinked. Spots. Allen began to break through the muffled haze as Lacey gave her head a shake.

"...everywhere, fucking christ LACEY WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?"

When Lacey finally realized Allen was screaming over the radio, her mind snapped back into full consciousness and give her back genuine control of motor functions and thought. She scrambled back up to the desk ignoring the lukewarm coffee soaking into her uniform pants. She placed her left hand in a puddle of coffee that had just begun to dribble over the edge of the desk and grabbed the receiver with her right. "This is dispatch, go ahea..."

"Fuck the formalities, Lacey! Get the wagon and load the highway incident kits, call up Deputy Sanders and Deputy Kinnister, and get them and you and those incident kits out to Dan's Alley. And bring the sat phone, I need to call the feds."

"Yes sir," Lacey paused a moment, "how many of the incident kits should I bring sir?" her heart sank. She did not want to hear the answer because just one Highway Incident Kit alone was enough to cover a large section of highway and always meant that the scene was messy.

"All of them."

"Sir?" Lacey was genuinely confused, not only as to how she was going to fit five highway incident kits into the old department wagon but also why so many kits would be needed at Dan's Alley. "That place is barely an alley." She caught the sound of her voice as she spoke inadvertently.

"Fit what you can in the wagon, and tell Sanders and Kinnester to grab the rest with their vehicles. When you guys get down here and I get the sat phone, two of you can go back for whatever else we may need and two of us will stay here and handle the scene."

"Yes, sir." Lacey paused for a moment. She looked down.

"And Lacey, brace yourself. I don't think anything at the academy could have prepared you for what we got down here."

"Yes sir, dispatch out." She was still kneeling in the coffee, and from the desk, coffee was still slowly running around where her left hand gripped the edge of the desk and running up her arm, inside her uniform shirt. No longer in a daze from the fall, but more in shock from Allen's requests, she slowly got herself to her feet, reaching for the desk phone on the way. She lifted the receiver and punched the second speed-dial button. She was still staring at the coffee that had now slowed to a crawling drip off of the desk when Sanders' sleepy voice broke the ringing. "Sanders, it's Lacey, I mean Desk Sergeant Hannigan, you need to bring your truck, and get Deputy Kinnester to bring his truck to the station as well, and bring whatever is left of the Highway Incident Kits that you can fit in your trucks to Dan's Alley." She did not need to wait for a yes ma'am or any other kind of confirmation for that matter. No sooner were the words highway incident kits out of Lacey Hannigan's mouth, and the muffled sounds of reassuring his wife all would be well were cut immediately short.

"We are on our way Lacey, get there." Deputy Brad Sanders slammed the phone down and threw off his covers. "I don't know what time I will be home, sweetheart, it's probably best," he already had his uniform jacket slung over his arm that was already sleeved in his crisply pressed shirt. He slipped his other arm in and buttoned and zipped his pants as he headed out the door and down the hall. His tired wife was almost into her housecoat, but still managed to keep pace with him as they descended the stairs. "you keep the kids home today as it sounds as though town center is going to be closed for most of the day. I love you very much, and if I can, I will try to be home for breakfast when the kids awake." Slipping into his uniform shoes, Brad Sanders gently kissed his wife on the forehead, smiled and headed out into what he was sure would be the busiest, and most harrowing day on the job since he was brought in from C.R. four years ago. He knew his wife knew why he was taking the truck as well as he did. The Westerheights Police Department had needed to transport two of their highway incident kits before when the driver of a semi had fallen asleep at the wheel and plowed head-on into a family who had been pulling a vacation trailer that had pulled off into the roadside turnout on the edge of Westerheights to fix a flat. Thinking they were safe the mother had taken the children into the vacation trailer to have a comfortable sleep. The semi skipped over the station wagon as if it was less significant than a speed bump, and cut the defenseless holiday trailer in half before the semi-trailer landed on what was left, simultaneously crushing and dragging the remaining contents off of the back of the roadside rest stop and then spreading the remains over a hundred and three yards into the terrain beyond. The father survived by the slightest chance that he happened to be a mere ten feet away pissing on a shrub. Aside from the sound, he said he turned around, and "everything was just... gone. I heard trees breaking in the distance and saw a red glow, and, and for a moment... I found myself thinking... A Demon. A... a demon t..took my family." It still sent shivers down his spine when he recalled how the father spoke.

II

Lacey finished throwing the last of the medical supplies into the clear plastic evidence tub on the front passenger seat. She gave the back seat and the cargo space a quick last glance before dropping an extra flashlight and the sat phone into the tub as well. The wagon was packed mostly with tarps, emergency clothing, a couple of clean suits, used to prevent contamination of a scene, as well as some basic evidence bins filled with bags and evidence collection materials and tools. She was thankful for the nice little government-issued laptop, bolted to the center console that meant she didn't need an extra two or three tubs for the paperwork that used to be needed when logging larger scenes. She slammed the door and looked at her watch. Twenty-seven minutes since the initial radio call. "Sanders and Kinnester should be here in another three to five, and it should take them less than half the time to get the remaining gear, so my best guess," she rounded the driver side and having left the door open while loading the wagon, "we should have the scene cordoned off by 6 am at the latest, and Sanders can be home in time for breakfast and Kinnester can go back to nursing the hangover he will suffer through his day off because he didn't get enough sleep." A deft hop had her quickly inside and the door closed before the key turned over the ignition. As if in complete defiance to all things new and advanced in technology, the 70-year-old hearse painted in Westerheights PD black, white and gold fired to life on the first turn and settled into what seasoned mechanics, or at least old man Stanley, called the kittens purr in seconds. Lacey kicked her in gear and pulled out onto First Avenue, she would be at the scene in about four minutes.

And what a scene it was. Penny Alistaire, the owner, and operator of Penny's Coffee and Snacks stood firm in a pair of almost knee-high, black rubber boots, her red and white checkered apron flapped haphazardly as the large, matching tablecloth she held in a feeble attempt to cover a mostly unclothed Staff Sergeant Allen Terwilliger standing awkwardly in a large plastic storage bin. A second bin was beside him. He dropped his shirt into it as he shielded his eyes. Penny squinted into the oncoming headlights, her half-smoked cigarette clinging to the curved ash. She would later think back to how comical the whole scene might have looked had Staff Sergeant Terwilliger's face not been covered to where the height of his tightly buttoned and neatly tied collar was no longer, with the glistening freshness of the blood that also covered the alley behind the pair, and was currently lit up brighter than town square during the Westerheights Christmas Celebration. Lacey quickly killed the lights before Miss Alistaire's eyes could travel back to the alley. Lacey felt a choke in her throat. She quickly threw open her door, opened an access door behind the driver's door and pulled out a clear plastic container holding a fresh uniform and a "clean suit" for the staff sergeant. she un-clipped a flashlight from a holster on the hearse's door and flicked it on. She angled it towards the ground so as not to put too much light on the alley. She did not bother to close the access door. She did her best not to feel awkward as she approached the staff sergeant and Miss Alistaire, who was now squinting in the direction of the mostly unclothed staff sergeants legs.

"Come on Lacey, I am sure you have seen a man in his underpants before, Miss Alistaire, mind the oggling please, you are making Desk Sergeant Hannigan uncomfortable." Lacey placed the evidence container on the ground beside the container that already contained most of his clothing piled on top of his shoes and socks. She kept the flashlight angled low and away so as to give Allen enough light to see what he was doing, but not quite enough light in the alley for Miss Alistaire to catch any glimpse of what she had already seen. She felt a lump in her throat and she swallowed. She hoped it was quiet. She found herself thankful that the light above the door behind Dan's Deli was burned out. "Alright Miss Alistaire, that will be all thank you. You can, for once, go home and put your feet up and have a well-deserved day, maybe two, off."