Free Meadowview Acres by Donna Cain

dogs, a large waffle fry and a medium lemonade.”
    “Got it. See you at the window.” The crackle of the speaker stopped.
    The sheriff pulled around and waited his turn behind two other cars. By the time he rolled up to the service window, Bill Port was sticking his head out of it. He had a big grin on his face.
    “Hey, Double D! It’s been awhile! Have you been avoiding the Hut? Margy making you eat all that healthy crap?” Bill laughed at his friend’s expense.
    Bill was the only person left around town that called him that. It originated in middle school when the teachers would call out the entire name of each pupil on the first day of school. Donald Daniel Buchanon was a mouthful and William John Port had dubbed him “Double D” immediately.
    “No, just haven’t had time lately. I’ve been on the other side of town for the last few weeks working on those robberies,” he said as he took his lemonade from Bill’s outstretched hand.
    That case had worried him. There were no clues at any of the scenes, no leads, no witnesses and the same MO for each case. The homeowners would be out of the house and come home to find the place ransacked – all computers, electronics, cameras and TV’s gone. They never touched the jewelry or tried to get into a safe if there was one. They left a hell of a mess at each house, though. Then, finally a break came when a young couple that had been robbed remembered that their nanny cam was attached to their computer and they could access the footage online. There they were, two guys dressed in black going to work, when one of them looked directly at the camera before unplugging everything to take the computer. It didn’t take long to find the perpetrator and his friend. The harder part was convincing them to rat out their accomplices. They eventually did, of course – no honor among thieves. It turned out they were a small part of a bigger gang from a neighboring town. They would rob houses in Hallston and sell the goods in Shale or Glovercroft. Sheriff Buchanon had handed over the evidence and perpetrators to the police department in Shale for prosecution in that town.
    “Yeah, I heard about that. Nice job wrapping that up. Who was it, anyway?” Bill asked.
    “A gang of guys from Shale. They had some connections in Glovercroft too, but most of the stolen merch was found in pawn shops in Shale. I’ve handed it all over to Captain Davis over there.”
    Val poked her head out beside her husbands and said, “Don, tell Margy to call me. We haven’t been to dinner in weeks! I want to try that new Mexicali place that opened on Main a couple of weeks ago.”
    “Will do, Val. She’s over at the middle school right now chaperoning the Fall Dance. She and Jennifer won’t get home till late, I suppose. I’m headed over to the game to watch Jeff play.” He accepted the steaming box of fried food from Val.
    “We saw Jeff earlier with his buddies. Had to get Hansen Reynolds in line again. He was teasing Bug Hamilton and ended up with Bug falling and bloodying up her nose. That kid is a pain! I hope he gets some of that meanness out of his system by busting some linemen on the field tonight.” Bill said.
    “Hansen Reynolds. I’ve been hearing that name a lot lately,” replied the sheriff. “I may have to sit that boy down for a discussion next time I see him.”
    A new car pulled up behind the sheriff’s cruiser and the men said their quick goodbyes. Sheriff Buchanon pulled out of the Hot Dog Hut with his two corn dogs and fries in their little cardboard carton in the passenger seat. “Nothing better than food on a stick,” he thought.
    The parking lot at the high school was packed, so he made his own place close to the gate. One of the perks of the job was making your own parking place. He greeted the ladies at the ticket booth and paid for his entry. They tried not to accept his money, but he insisted and went on in. His stomach was happy with his meal-on-a-stick, but he was