They needed a night out and drove to the only decent restaurant within a thirty-mile radius. It was great. Just like old times. But on the quiet ride home, there was this nagging ache in Dakota's gut that she couldn't blame on the food...or her condition.

Yes, Dakota was eight months pregnant, but no, she wasn't in labor. This was something different.

"Go around the park. I want to see something," her husband said, painfully close to their driveway.

Dakota hit the brakes in the middle of their empty street. "We already went around the park. What's there to see in the dark anyway?"

His OCD tendencies were escalating. Yesterday, it was with the hammer—every stray nail, every loose floorboard. Today, they were driving in circles.

With a sigh, she turned the corner. The scenery made her want to keep going straight until she hit either an ocean or a border.

Why did we move to this miserable town? After Jaysen's layoff, he was forced to work for his father.

And he hated every minute of it.

Living near Jaysen's family made a lot of sense...at the time. Childcare would be "free," but there was always a price. Employment wasn't something that ever presented itself, though. Dakota was overqualified for every job and they always seemed to find a "better fit."

Maybe it's for the best.

Their relationship with Jaysen's mother wasn't what they had envisioned. It was more functional at a distance.

"I chose you, I chose you..." Jaysen began chanting.

Chose, past tense.

He opened and closed the glove compartment for no apparent reason. The hammer was inside.

When flashing lights appeared in her mirrors, she glanced at the speedometer and pulled over. I wasn't speeding.

She had been warned that the cops were aggressive, especially to cars they didn't recognize. After tonight, they would recognize her car and not in a good way. In high school, Jaysen had an unspeakable brush with the sheriff's son and his posse. She had a feeling the ruptured eardrum wasn't the only damage done. The notorious Eric Moore was currently his father's lieutenant and would likely take the sheriff's place someday.

She lowered her window. "Good evening, officer. What seems to be the trouble?" She checked the nametag. Eric Moore.

What are the odds? Not great, she realized. With only five men on the force, it wasn't some outrageous coincidence.

"A violent crime was committed." Eric pointed his flashlight at the crime tape blocking off a nature trail. "This is the second time I've seen your car pass by."

I chose you. I chose you. I chose you. The words were running loops through her mind, too.

"I saw the crime tape," Dakota lied. "I circled around for a better look. Is curiosity now a punishable offense?"

"What happened to her?" Jaysen glanced at the glove compartment.

"I never mentioned the victim's gender." Eric followed Jaysen's gaze with his flashlight. "Sir, would you please step out of the vehicle?"

***

A #WelcomeToTheBlumhouse prize winner!