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proximity, right?” She didn’t let him answer. Instead she climbed into the car, started the engine, revved the eight cylinders for full effect, then peeled out as she moved away from the curb, tires squealing.
    Adolescent. And sexy. Interesting mix. If you had a death wish.
    He pried open a corner of the plastic lid, hefted two cookies and grinned as Officer Les Budall pulled out of the Shop-n-Go parking lot, lights flashing, siren wailing, in pursuit of  Cress’s streamlined, low-slung Mazda for cruising through the four-way.
    Alex held the cookies aloft, a sweet salute to law enforcement at the right place, right time. “Go get her, Les. And good luck.” He eyed the cookies, slid his glance down the road to where an irate Cress argued the senselessness of Les’s ticket, weighed up the possibility of rodent poison, dismissed it as at least unlikely, and took a bite.
    Delicious. Chewy. Raisin-studded goodness filled his mouth, making him realize how hungry he was. Rat poison or not, these were still great cookies.
    He’d die a happy man.
    *
    Worst morning, ever.
    Cress deleted a few chosen words from her evaluation as she stomped through the grass to the back door of Gran’s aging two-story farmhouse.
    She’d greeted the morning with intermittent bursts of scalding water because Gran liked to wash clothes early. Like pre-dawn early. Who does that? thought Cress, indignant.
    More time for hanging, the old gal said.
    Well, hang this, Cress thought as she approached the back porch. Her footsteps stirred Shep. He stood, arthritic, yawned, stretched, then moved her way, looking for affection. No way could she ignore the old boy. She paused, bending to pet the dog who’d traipsed alongside Grandpa to the day he died, then entered the kitchen.
    “Did you remember the milk?” Gran peered at Cress’s empty hands and hiked a brow.
    She hadn’t. She’d been so riled after her tête-à-tête with Alex followed by her run-in with the local Barney Fife that she’d forgotten the milk. She choked back what she wanted to say and shook her head. “Forgot. Sorry. I’ll head to the convenience store and grab it there.”
    “It’s a dollar cheaper in town,” Gran scolded.
    Cress’s shoulders wrenched. “I’ll cover the difference, Gran.”
    “That’s not the point.” Gran’s frown made her glasses slip. “You had to go right by Gordy’s Supermarket to get to Alex’s office. What way did you go?”
    Cress ground her back tee th, then rolled her shoulders. The maneuver did nothing to help the growing tightness. “Past Gordy’s. I just forgot.”
    Gran peered over her glasses before righting them with the index finger of her right hand. “We can get it later when we stop at the mortuary.”
    “Gran, we are not going to the funeral parlor to make your arrangements.” The very idea gave Cress the creeps. “That’s morbid.”
    “That’s life,” Gran retorted. She poured a cup of coffee and moved to the back door, her gaze directed south. “You live, you die. Trick is, make the most of both.”
    “Yeah, well, good luck on that one.”
    “Cynical.”
    Cress sent her a cryptic look. “Chip off the old block.”
    Gran’s scowl deepened the natural creases of a seventy-something life. “Not at your age. Being away from the city is good for you. You need a break, something to change things up.”
    Cress didn’t add that being away from an abusive man was good for her. Gran would never understand such a stupid mistake. “I love my job.”
    “I know.” Gran turned, regarding her. “But there’s police work everywhere.”
    Images of her recent run-in with Les flooded Cress’s brain. Like that was real police work. Please. “Umm. Right.”
    Gran must have followed her line of reasoning because she smiled. The softened expression shed years from her face. “Not the locals, maybe, but the county sheriff. State troopers. There’s options right here.”
    “I have a job, Gran.”
    “You’re not happy