Her Apple Pie

Peter Argonis

©2013, 2024

Synopsis

When Deputy Cliff Henson hears that his former girlfriend, celebrity singer Kylie McAdam, will attend their five-year high school reunion, he picks the night shift to avoid seeing her, still hurting from their breakup. Kylie has alcoholism and two abusive relationships to overcome, but when Cliff is shot while on duty, she realizes her enduring love for him. Being laid up in the hospital, he has no chance against his own, re-awakening feelings for her.

Content

1 - Reunion

2 - High Speed Pursuit

3 - Milk and Yoghurt

4 - A Visitor

5 - Lucky Charm

6 - Relapse

7 - The Great Clearwater Diner Massacre

8 - A One-sided Conversation

9 - An Obligation

10 - Apple Pie vs. Pound Cake

11 - The Posse

12 - Warm-up

13 - Moving On

Acknowledgement

1 - Reunion

Deputy Sheriff Clifford Henson — Cliff to everybody who knew him — entered the driveway to his parents' house. It was empty. His parents were still at work at the General Store his father owned and Cliff had no siblings. He mostly had the place to himself and living with his parents fit his fiscal needs at the moment.

At 24, he was a college graduate with a major in pre-law, and he planned on attending law school. He needed savings for that, and spending three years as a deputy sheriff in his hometown, Clearwater, MT, and living rent-free in his parents’ home, would allow him so save up his pay and get some law enforcement experience under his belt. Cliff planned on working for the state as a prosecutor.

On the table in the living room he found a letter addressed to him. Finally, six years after he came of age, he had succeeded in conditioning his mother against reading his letters, and it was indeed unopened. Ripping the envelope open, he groaned when he saw the gaudily colored invitation. With a feeling of growing anger, he read.

———

Dear Class of 2002,

Guess what, five years have passed since graduation, and it is time for our first reunion! The reunion committee has picked July 7 as the date, and of course, the Clearwater High School gym as the venue.

We can promise you an exciting program with live music from our own Clearwater Revival Band and hopefully from our most famous class mate, Kylie McAdam. Yes, that's right, Kylie McAdam will attend and lend her star appeal to our reunion!

Please send us a note that you plan to attend and don't forget your significant other. I guess we all know who will accompany Kylie!!!

Marjorie Edwards

President, Reunion Committee

———

Cliff felt a bitter bile rising in his throat. Kylie was coming home to Clearwater to attend the reunion and probably bask in the admiring looks of her class mates. She would also bring along her half-assed TV actor boyfriend, Hugh Dumont. The two were filling the tabloids because of his regular run-ins with traffic laws, her public drunk hissy fits, and the so far unsubstantiated rumors of drugging. The last major story had been when he had given her a shiner in a L.A. nightclub and spent the next three weeks issuing apologies in every day talk show that would give him a stage.

It still hurt Cliff. Kylie had been his girl. They began dating in their Sophomore year in high school and stayed a couple all through school and into their college freshman year. For his eighteenth birthday Kylie gave him her virginity, and for her eighteenth birthday he gave her his grandmother's diamond ring. To everybody who knew them it was a done deal that the two would marry once they finished college. Things had turned out different.

In February 2003 they had found flyers for the state contest of Superstar!, one of the emerging casting show formats which enjoyed stellar ratings. Aspiring musicians were to send demo CDs to the organizers. Feeling silly and for the heck of it, Kylie sent a selection of five cover songs from the time in their high school band, the Clearwater Revival Band, and just like that, she was selected for the state casting show. It was held in the same city as the college they were attending and Kylie decided to go for it.

Kylie always had a fine voice and she could cover a variety of styles. She picked two ballads and two Rock numbers, and by the end of the show she had won the state tournament. So far it had been fun and Cliff had supported Kylie and helped her, even accompanied her on his acoustic guitar during the ballads.

Things changed then. For the national competition the participants had to go to L.A. and they were sequestered for a month while every week, ten contestants were culled. Kylie and Cliff had not figured that she would spend more than two weeks given that she was a rank amateur, and Kylie had decided to give it a try. Cliff had to stay back home, but in the first weeks she called him on a daily basis.

Suffice to say, Kylie went on and into the final competition. At that point she was a household name and the newspapers and the emerging blogosphere took note of her. Suddenly Cliff found himself a person of interest as Kylie's boyfriend, and he was even flown to L.A. for the semi finals, to pose with Kylie. He would always remember that weekend for it was then that he noticed the change in Kylie. Along with a few other boyfriends of semifinalists he lodged in a cheap motel and he could not spend one moment alone with her. She was constantly in briefings, dress fittings and practice, and before the semifinals rolled along on Sunday evening, Cliff had to pack his stuff and was on a plane home.

Kylie had a hissy fit, something completely uncharacteristic for her, when she reached him on his cell phone already back in their apartment. She berated him for leaving her without saying a word not even allowing for the fact that she had been completely unavailable for him during the entire visit. Then she demanded that he should come to L.A. for the finals. Cliff had to refuse having important tests on Monday and Wednesday after the Sunday evening (West Coast Time) final. He would not even be able to make the return trip in time, let alone get in any study time. Her farewell that evening over the scratchy cell phone connection was frosty.

She did not call him all week. She did not mention him when she gave her stammered acceptance speech after winning ("Oh my God, I cannot believe it! This is too much!"). He tried to call all night to congratulate her, but her cell phone was switched off, and she did not answer to voice mail or texting.

Monday's papers were filled with a smiling Kylie hugging the producers of the show, the other contestants, and the half-assed celebrities who formed the jury. She still did not call Cliff. Tuesday's headlines were of another quality. A photog had captured the moment when Kylie stepped out of the limousine of the show's producer. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes looked glassy, and the evidence that she was sans panties was there for the world to see, since her dress had ridden up. The silk panties hanging from the producer's coat pocket was the piece de resistance. The scandal sheets went crazy.

Back home the impact was terrible. One day Kylie was the Queen of Clearwater, their girl who made it big on national TV; the next day more than half the town had turned against her. Her parents, when they returned from L.A., could add nothing to what people knew; they had been kept away from her. They had tried to contact her but she did not answer her cell phone. For the next weeks, the McAdams did not show their faces in town if they could help it. They wrote to Cliff to apologize for their daughter, and in a way it helped him a little.

The damaging photos notwithstanding, Kylie had her two months of fame. Then her first album, hastily arranged, was thrown into the music store shelves, but it was a shoddy production and it was later rumored that its gold status was due to massive buying from her producers. She toured after the release, but it was clear that her appeal was already waning. The fresh faced girl from Montana had turned into a moody party girl, who ran with the rich and infamous socialites for a while.

When next year's contest came along, her producer had already cut her loose, citing a lack of potential and discipline. It was telling that this was followed by her best phase. Instead of playing to large crowds, she assembled a group of session musicians and began to play small club gigs. With nothing else but word of mouth to go for her she soon became a top live performer in L.A., and one of the bigger labels signed her on for a three year contract. This time she received more than a token cut from the record sales and in quick order, she recorded two albums which both went gold all by themselves. She wasn't a superstar by any stretch, but she had become an artist of her own.

Then, two years ago, she met the proverbial bad boy, Hugh Dumont. He had played a rebellious detective in a cop show that never saw its second season. He then snatched a role as replacement character in a popular sitcom which was on its last leg and was canned a year later in mid season. This was followed by a string of guest starring roles in various crime shows, mostly playing female murder victims' sleazy boyfriends, a role he began to transcend into his private life.

He and Kylie met at a party, and as every gossip service dutifully reported, they hit the sack within an hour. A stormy relationship ensued with lots of headlines. Kylie had to post bail for him at least three times when he was arrested for assault or DUI. He loved to throw things at waiters and parking valets, and he ran over a paparazzo with his car. Kylie posted bail and kept her mouth shut.

Her singing suffered though, and her third album for the new label stank to the high heavens. She was spotted drunk in public more than once and rumors were about that she snorted coke. And now she was coming home with her bad-ass boyfriend.

There was no way he would attend the stupid reunion, Cliff decided. Let her have the stage, let her parade her boyfriend, Cliff was not going to watch the spectacle. The Sheriff was always short handed on weekends, and it would be no problem to be on duty. He made a mental note to talk to Sheriff Cramer.

———

Luke Patterson was unhappy.

"Man, Cliff, that sucks! For once we have a real gig, and then you pull out?"

"I pulled duty, Luke. It's a Saturday and nobody will swap."

"Oh, shit! It would have been so great, with you and … Oh fuck! Jeez, Cliff, I didn't think. Yeah, I can imagine you don't want to share the stage with Kylie."

“Not even a zip code," Cliff added. "Keep a lid on it, Luke, will you? I'm on duty, period."

"Yeah, well, it sucks. Why the hell does she think she has to come anyway? I don't think even her parents have seen her in four fucking years."

"Don't ask me. I don't want to know."

"Shit. Listen, Cliff, you take care. I'll spread the word that you have to fight crime. See ya!"

"Yeah, see ya, and have fun. Go rock 'em!"

Cliff watched his friend going back to his table at the diner. Luke and Cliff had drifted apart a little in the years after high school. Going to college does that to high school friends. Cliff did not go home much to reconnect during the remainder of his college years. Everything in Clearwater reminded him of Kylie and he felt that he was the laughing stock of the town. He just buried himself in the books and attended extra courses over the summers, managing to graduate a year ahead.

By then, the money had run out and he had to decide whether to attend a lousy law school immediately or to go to a decent school later and work in between. He picked the latter when Sheriff Cramer offered to hire him as a deputy. Cramer was his mother's cousin, and she wanted to help. The pay with overtime amounted to over forty thousand dollars, and Cliff had been able to save most of it by living with his parents. He was not socializing much and he certainly spent no money on girlfriends. At the end of his three year stint he would be sitting on a hundred grand, enough for a good law school if he could scare up a scholarship or two.

———

Kylie McAdam felt a growing unease. On the surface this had to do with Hugh's driving. He was going over ninety miles per hour in the rented Porsche which he had insisted they take.

'We're stars, baby,' he had claimed. 'We can't just drive up in a piece-of-shit Chevy.'

The car was great, no doubt, but a BMW or an Audi, even a Lexus, would have been in keeping with their celebrity status and their financial situation. Kylie was painfully aware that sales of her albums were dropping and the negotiations for a tour were dragging along. Hugh had not had a role in more than seven months which added to their cash flow problems.

The winding road was adding to her discomfort. Having a Bloody Mary for breakfast had been a bad idea all along. She had also taken painkillers against her headache and she felt woozy.

"Can we stop for a sec, Baby?" she shouted over the noise of the engine.

Shrugging, Hugh pulled over. Kylie was out in a flash and then her stomach heaved and heaved until her breakfast was splattered over the ground in front of her feet. She felt weak and cold. Where was Hugh? Oh, God, no! Hugh was snorting coke from his little silver spoon.

"Can't you stop that? You have to drive," she complained.

"Oh, fuck it! This baby drives almost by itself," he boasted. "Want some?"

"God, no! You know I don't snort."

They had another hour to drive on their way from Missoula Airport to Clearwater, and Kylie was apprehensive. It was her first return to Clearwater since her win at Superstar!, and she was not a little worried about the reception she would get. The stupid girls of the committee would eat out of her hands, no problem, but there were a number of people who would not be friendly. Like her parents. The conversation on the telephone had been frosty. Her parents had been unforgiving and they refused to let her and Hugh sleep in their house. That had hurt, chiefly because she could relate to them. She had not called them in four years, only sent greetings cards for holidays.

Then there would be Clifford, Cliff. Once her soul mate, lover and husband-to-be, she had not heard from him either. Well, that wasn't true. She had heard from him alright. Twenty-four voice mails, asking her to call back which she had not heard before it was too late. Then the twenty-fifth message which arrived after the paparazzi photos showed her up as a cheating slut. Cliff's voice had sounded dead, devoid of feeling, devoid of life. She could still remember every word.

'I know now why you won't take my calls. You moved on. I never thought I'd ever say this to you, Kyles, but you can go to hell! I hope I won't ever have to see you again. All your stuff will be at your parents' house. I'll change the locks, so don't come here anymore.'

With that the message ended. She had cried, had tried to call him, but the connection was refused. He had put her on the no-call list. She never tried again. Now she would see him at the reunion. She had refused to go for that reason, but her agent had talked her into attending. She needed a few positive headlines for a change after a year of being permanently stuck on the police report pages having to bail out Hugh time and again for drunk brawls.

Hugh. He had seemed like a nice guy, a little rough around the edges but charming. He was a star too, or so she thought. She was drunk at that party and he had fucked her inside minutes of meeting. He liked to fuck rough, and initially she enjoyed the kick after the awkward, kinky sex with Don Brentano, her first producer.

Those months with Don had been surreal with his fetish for dominance games, and Kylie remembered the time as a continuous haze mostly due to her heavy drinking. There was always Champagne at Don's house and happy pills, lots of them. She knew now that he had filled her up with alcohol and pills from the start and that had been the main reason for her rotten behavior.

Now her relationship with Hugh was going sour too. Two months ago, he had slapped her at a club when she refused him the money he needed to buy coke. He had apologized to her for weeks and she had forgiven him, but the easy trust was gone for good. He was doing more and more coke, and he had lost two roles for showing late on the set. Perhaps it was better if they did not stay at Kylie's parents', not with her father being the Clearwater County Prosecutor.

They were passing the Clearwater township limits and Kylie swallowed heavily directing Hugh to her parents' home. On the way they passed the Hensons' house, but Kylie could not see anybody outside. Then Hugh parked the metallic-blue Porsche in her father's driveway and it was time to face the music.

Her father had become so old! Kylie could not help the tears when she saw him. His mouth which had always had a smile for her was now a thin, grim line. They shook hands in the driveway like strangers, and Kylie followed her father with burning eyes.

The sight of her mother just about killed Kylie on the spot. She was emaciated to the point that she looked like a skeleton. Her head showed only a spotty fuzz of thin, white hair. Cancer! With burning shame Kylie realized it. Her eyes were still alive though and they fixated Kylie with a cold stare.

"I guess we can count ourselves lucky that you need the PR of showing at the reunion," she said with heavy sarcasm in her voice.

"Mom, I didn't know!" Kylie whispered miserably. "If I had known …"

"Well you couldn't. After all, you did not answer our calls or emails and you never gave us an address. So, what the hell do you want now?"

This was her mother? This cold and accusing woman?

"Mom, I received the invitation and I wanted to come and make peace with you and Dad."

"Oh, I didn't know we had a fight. Kinda hard to have one without any contact. Again, why did you come? And who is that coke head?"

"Mom!" Kylie flared up. "How can you …"

"Oh, shut up! I can see his pupils. Driving a rented Porsche, snorting coke, and not two live brain cells to rub together either. Obviously that's the world you chose to live in. Again, what do you want?"

Hugh decided to turn on his charm. "Mrs. McAdam, we came here so I can meet you. Kylie and I have been together for over a year now and I wanted to meet her folks."

"You've met us. Anything else?"

"Mom, is there anything I can help you with? You know, there are great doctors in L.A. Maybe you can get experimental treatment there."

"I'm recovering just fine. I don't need doctors from L.A. for that. I had pancreatic cancer, and the chemo almost killed my liver. That's why I'm so thin. I may still need a liver transplant, but right now things look up."

"You're not … I mean, you …"

"I'm not dying if that's what you mean. You can wait until your ten year anniversary for the next visit."

Kylie looked at her father imploringly. "Dad, can't we at least talk some?"

James McAdam shook his head sadly. "Well, Miss Superstar, we could have used your support six months ago when your mother was so sick and weak. You wouldn't answer our calls then. You wanna know who helped us out when I couldn't keep my eyes open after waking three nights in a row? It was Clifford. He came in after a full shift and kept watch. Offered it freely too. He did this after all the shit you heaped on him. After you traded him in, first for that sleazy old lecher and now for a useless poser."

Hugh puffed himself up. "Mr. McAdam, this is getting a bit too much. I have something to show for. I am a well respected actor."

"A bit part player, and a lousy one. A poser who rents an expensive car to show off. Let me tell you one thing: you better not drive anywhere before you sober up, or by God, I'll have you pulled over and tested. And if you test positive for any banned substance, I'll prosecute you and there ain't enough sleazy lawyers in this state to keep you out of jail. Now go, and I mean on your feet!"

"Dad, you're throwing us out?"

He looked at her. "Kylie, you're our daughter, but don't expect us to act as if you didn't tear our hearts out. Go now, go to your reunion and be a big star. That shit doesn't fly in this house anyway. Come back when you've found yourself again."

They had to leave then and Kylie was feeling physically sick. She had expected a few choice remarks but not the coldness and the complete rejection. She had not expected to find her mother so sick. What had she expected then? Hugh broke her train of thoughts.

"Is your old man off his rocker? What did he mean, we should walk?"

"He's the county prosecutor. If you get into that car he'll call the sheriff, and then they'll pull us over. You want to be tested and spend a year in jail?"

"Shit! So what do we do? Call a cab?"

"I'll do it," Kylie sighed. The visit had started bad and it was getting worse quickly.

———

"And now, our star, our superstar, Clearwater's most famous daughter, here she is! I give you, Kylieeeeee McAdam!"

Chuck Abrams was doing his Ed McMahon number announcing her, and Kylie stepped forward on the high school stage while the remnants of the Clearwater Revival Band were stepping into the background. A few spotlights were directed at her, but she could still make out many familiar faces. Cliff was not among them, but then again he would not stand close to the stage to admire her.

"Good evening, Clearwater!" Kylie intoned. "It is so good to be back. It feels like ages and I want to hear all about you before I'll leave. Anyway, great anniversary, Marge!"

A few people clapped their hands but most just stared at her, some not too admiringly.

"So, Class of 2002, the guys who just played were my band back then and perhaps we can talk them into another little revival?"

A few people clapped, but Luke stepped to the front covering the microphone with his hand. His voice was low but his words were crystal-clear. "Kylie, unless you can talk Cliff into joining, and good luck with that, there won't be any revival. Besides, I can't remember us being your band. Either you brought your own canned music or you'll have to do your stuff a capella."

With that, the three remaining band members climbed off the stage to leave Kylie openmouthed. Even Janet Running Elk, once her best friend, followed Luke and Peter with a sad shake of her head directed at Kylie. She could hear a few chuckles and giggles.

"Should I sing at all?" she asked hesitantly and at least the majority of the crowd cheered her. Bracing herself Kylie took the mic. "Luke, can you guys lend me an acoustic guitar? Please?"

"The blue case," Peter Loring shouted back, pointing at a guitar case.

"This isn't exactly how I envisioned this, but I guess I know your reasons," Kylie said sadly as she opened the case. All the blood rushed from her face when she saw the instrument. It was Cliff's Ovation, the guitar he had played when it was just he and Kylie. She had last seen it at the state contest where he had accompanied her. She looked up at Peter.

"What are you doing with Cliff's Ovation?"

Without malice, sadly, Peter answered. "He gave it to me. Said he couldn’t play it no more."

Kylie nodded and picked it up, closing her eyes briefly. Without thinking she quickly tuned it using her ear as only reference. Then she sat on the lonely chair up front and began a slow strumming the way Cliff had taught her almost seven years ago. The song she sang was one from her latest album; not very popular in other words. Elevator music, Cliff would have called it. She quickly brought it to an end by cutting on the repeat segment. Kylie was a live performer at heart and she could sense the mood of a crowd. No, the R&B numbers would not fly with that crowd.

She tried some of the songs she had sung on her second album, the one produced after her successful run as a live act. This was more like it, but still she could not really connect. They were nice enough to give her applause, but this was not how Kylie wanted her performance to end.

Suddenly she knew what to sing. The words and the music came to her without conscious effort, the words she had penned down six years ago while Cliff had improvised on the melody. They had performed it as a duet a few times, but mostly they had kept it to themselves. Now Kylie felt the overwhelming urge to sing it. 'The Sky Below Us' was a song about the high-flying exultation of being in love.

She was slightly rusty and her guitar play was far from perfect, but she let her voice grow into the song. It felt good and it felt right. If anything, she wished that Cliff would hear her and join her on the stage, but that would never happen again. He must hate her after the way she'd betrayed him, after she'd publicly humiliated him.

Sadness enveloped her and for the last verse she stopped playing the guitar and indeed sang a capella. Even through her sadness she noticed how much better this song suited her voice than the silly R&B numbers she had done on her recent album. She ended it with tears running down her cheeks and she rose from the chair, carefully clutching Cliff's guitar to her chest.

"Folks, that's all for today. I planned on a bigger program but I can't do it tonight. I'm a little bit emotional right now and I ask you to forgive me."

Peter was standing behind her and took the guitar from her hands storing it away in the case.

"Peter, if Cliff ever asks to have the Ovation back, do you think you can give it to him?"

Peter nodded. "It's his. I'm only safekeeping it for him."

Emotionally drained, Kylie went to the bar. Sure enough, there was Hugh, talking up the two hat check girls, college freshmen at best. He noticed her and shook his head.

"'Sup with you, Kyles? You're all weepy and stuff. And that last song, God, who wrote that shit?"

"I did," she answered curtly and he guffawed.

"For real? Get outta here! I guess you need some of Hugh's TLC, Baby, to get this shit outta your system."

He was slurring a bit too much, talking a bit too loud, and people looked at him, some with obvious disdain.

"Thanks for getting shit faced while I'm having a meltdown here," Kylie said bitingly.

"Fuck, cut the drama queen shit. So they don't love you anymore? Big deal. This is the greatest assembly of losers I've seen in my life."

"They are the people I grew up with, Hugh. They are my class mates. Compared with us most of them are winners. At least they have friends."

"Yeah, but you're not one of them anymore. Let's go back to that roach burgh. If you get me there before I fall asleep I can get your mood up if you know what I mean."

"God, Hugh, you're such a prince among men," Kylie said sarcastically. "Let's call a cab."

"God, you're stupid," Hugh jeered. "I'm getting the Porsche back."

"No, you're not!" Kylie argued. "You're drunk."

"Aw, you're a stick in the mud. It's just a mile and a half to the motel. What's going to happen? I'll drive real slow."

"I can drive. I haven't had a drop since this morning," Kylie offered.

"Dream on," Hugh laughed. "You couldn't drive a car like that to save your life!"

"You're an asshole," Kylie sighed.

They left then and neither of them saw how the younger of the hat check girls flipped open her cell phone. Her name was Leslie Cramer. She was the Sheriff's daughter and bound for the State Trooper School after the summer break.

2 - High Speed Pursuit

Cliff had a quiet night patrolling the streets of Clearwater. He'd had one case of public drunkenness to deal with, around ten-thirty, but apart from that he did not have much to do. The dispatch caught him a little by surprise.

"Cliff, this is HQ, do you copy?"

"HQ, this is Cliff, I read you," Cliff acknowledged.

“We just received a heads-up from somebody at that high school reunion. Some drunk fellow in a Porsche is about to drive over to the motel!"

"I read you. I'll wait for him off High Street."

Probably nothing. In two years, Cliff had seen a lot of crazy calls, and nobody in their class was driving a Porsche. Yet, it was a hint. He drove over two blocks to High Street and placed his cruiser under an oak tree, at the intersection of Peak Drive and High Street. He killed the headlights but left the engine in idle. He opened the window and listened into the night.

He heard the Porsche before he saw it. Then two headlights pierced the night coming nearer fast. Too fast. The Porsche rushed past the parked cruiser.

The transmission in Drive already, Cliff stepped on the accelerator and switched on the headlights. He peeled out of the side street chasing after the speeding car. He caught up quickly and switched on the red and blues, tipping the siren briefly.

The reaction caught Cliff a little by surprise. Already going at around fifty, the Porsche accelerated so violently that it fishtailed a little and sped off, already past the motel. Breathing deeply, Cliff switched on the siren and pushed down the accelerator. With his right hand he changed the engine settings from economy to performance, causing the souped-up V8 to tear at the rear axle as it was whipping the cruiser forward.

"HQ, this is Cliff. I'm in a high speed pursuit of a late model Porsche Carrera, Montana plates, heading down High Street towards Templeton. We're getting close to the town limits and we're going at over 90 miles an hour."

He knew his voice sounded agitated.

"Cliff, this is Cramer. Just keep up visual. We're blocking the road at Templeton. All units, let's roll. Frank, Eric, block the Rock Valley Bridge on the Templeton side. Boys, keep your cool! We don't want this to end badly!"

Cramer, of course, was Sheriff Cramer, Cliff's boss.

"Roger. We’ve slowed to a little over 80 right now. It looks like he figured out that he can't shake me off."

"You can't pass him either on that road. He probably figures that behind Templeton, on the State Highway, he can unleash all those horses and cream you."

They were racing towards Templeton and the valley bridge. Cliff noticed that the Porsche was not driving straight but swaying a little. 'Please, don't crash!' Cliff thought. Traffic accidents were the worst in his job. The radio came alive again.

"Boss, Cliff, this is Eric. I'm in position and here comes Frank. We're blocking the off ramp.”

Cliff was driving perhaps two hundred yards behind the Porsche. A quick look in the rear view mirror showed another set of flashing lights coming from behind.

"Cliff, this is Chief. I'm behind you. We'll seal off the Clearwater side."

Chief was Senior Deputy Sheriff Chief Running Elk, the shift supervisor. He was the oldest of the deputies, with his daughter already on the force too. Janet Running Elk had been Cliff's high school class mate and a fellow member of their band. She was at the reunion of course, but her father was on duty.

"All units, let's do this right from the book!" Cramer advised them over the radio.

"We read you, boss. Let's box him in," Cliff answered.

The Porsche was driving up the ramp of the bridge now and Cliff readied himself for blocking the road. This was his first real pursuit, but he had learned what to do while training at the State Trooper Academy. There! The brake lights of the Porsche lit up as it crested the bridge. Two hundred yards in front of Cliff, tires squealed as the sports car skidded to a halt. Cliff braked sharply, coming to a stop thirty yards behind their quarry. Chief Running Elk stopped his cruiser on Cliff's left side. Now the bridge was sealed. Cliff grabbed for the microphone and switched on the bullhorn.

"Sheriff's deputies! Switch off your engine and step out of the car with your hands raised over your head! I repeat, step out of the car and surrender yourself!"

Nothing happened but Cliff thought he saw movement, some sort of fighting inside the Porsche. Unlocking his Remington pump action gun from the dashboard, Cliff stepped from the cruiser and advanced on the Porsche at a 30 degree angle from behind. Closing in he saw a struggle inside.

"I'm moving in!" he yelled. "Crime in progress!"

He yanked open the passenger side door in time to see the driver elbow the passenger, a woman, into her stomach trying to pry something from her fingers. The woman grunted with the pain. With a serene smile, Cliff reversed the shotgun and smashed the butt across the passenger's lap and into the driver's chest. He heard a satisfying "Oomph!" from the man; then he quickly unbuckled the woman and pulled her from the car.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! It was Kylie of all people! What were the odds of that? And he would be the arresting deputy of record since he initiated the pursuit. Fuck!

Chief had followed Cliff and stuck the business end of a Remington inside the Porsche and chambered a cartridge.

"Step out of the car, Mister!"

The other two cruisers had driven across the bridge side by side and now the other deputies approached the driver side door, their guns drawn. Frank Hornsby yanked the door open while tall and bald Deputy Eric Downs pulled the wheezing driver out by his collar. Letting go of Kylie, Cliff stepped around the car.

"Mister, you are under arrest for speeding, resisting arrest, reckless endangerment, and assault. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right anything that you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, the state will provide a public defender. Did you understand each of these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"Yeah, I understand. Jeezus, you broke my fucking ribs."

"An ambulance is on the way. Will you tell me your name, Mister?"

"My name — argh — is Hugh Dumont. I'm an actor, for God's sake. What do you want?"

Chief Running Elk had stashed Kylie away in a cruiser and stepped up to the group.

"You read him his rights, Cliff?" he asked in a low tone, and Cliff nodded. "He did a number on her. We have to get her to the hospital. He may have broken her cheekbone and her ribs. Cliff, she's the DA's daughter. Drive her down to the ER, will you!"

"Chief, I must stay on the scene. This is my bust. Besides, you know about me and her."

"Cliff, I'm pulling rank here," Chief whispered urgently. "I want you off the scene before the ambulance guys arrive. He may just resist arrest and given your ties to the victim you shouldn't be on the scene. Now, scram!"

Cliff was not entirely averse to the concept and he shrugged and turned. Kylie was sitting in his cruiser already. He secured the shotgun to the dashboard and radioed in.

"HQ, this is Cliff. I'm bringing an injured female to the ER; blunt traumata and facial injuries. Over."

"I copy that, Cliff. Who is in charge at the scene?"

"Chief is in charge. Over."

"We read you. Over and out."

He looked at his passenger who was staring at him.

"Why are you a cop now?" she asked, actually mumbled through her already swelling lips.

"Earning money for law school," he replied curtly putting the transmission in reverse and turning the wheel left. He backed against the bridge railing and shifted into drive. Switching on the red and blue but leaving off the siren he sped towards Clearwater.

"I had hoped to see you, to have a chance to speak with you," Kylie kept talking.

"Gee, and I did my best to pull duty tonight to avoid just that," he replied with a trace of humor.

"Wow. That's not encouraging. Cliff, Peter let me play the Ovation tonight. Why did you give it away?"

His jaws set but his voice stayed calm. "Don't worry. If you want it, he'll give it to you. Just pay him with a pair of panties."

She briefly closed her eyes under the accusation. "Go ahead, hit me!" she told him, looking at him intently. "You can blame everything on Hugh. Come on, it's your chance! I'm sure you dreamed of beating me up, right?"

"Can't you just shut up? I told you I'm not keen on talking to you. I don't like you anymore."

"Okay," she whispered dejectedly. "Sorry."

To his relief she really kept her mouth shut, and to his even greater relief DA McAdam was at the hospital to take care of his wayward daughter. He looked at Cliff with surprise. Cliff shrugged.

"Chief Running Elk pulled rank and had me drive her in," he explained. "Can you take it from here?"

"Sure, Cliff. Thanks for bringing her in. I owe you."

"That's okay. Have them look after her cheek bone. I also saw him elbow her lower ribs."

McAdam's look turned angry. "Where is that shit now?"

Cliff gave the DA a feral grin. “They're bringing him in with an ambulance. He was resisting arrest and I had to subdue him. We'd like a warrant for a full substance test."

"I'll call Judge Herbert. You'll have it in a half hour."

Cliff tipped his hat then and turned. Kylie, who had kept her mouth shut until then called after him.

"Cliff! Can I…?"

The sliding door closed and cut off her sentence.

He walked back to his cruiser and drove the short distance to the Sheriff's office. Unlike in the cop shows, the fifteen minutes of excitement during the chase had to be paid with hours of report writing. He settled at his desk with a mug of coffee and began to type. Another hour later, a grinning Janet Running Elk came in, still wearing a form fitting dress, and planted her trim behind on Cliff's desk.

"Oh, boy, is he going down!" she laughed. "The boys found an ounce of what looks and tastes like coke in his overnight bag in the motel. Breathalyzer clocked him at 0.15; they're doing the blood tests right now."

Cliff grinned back. Janet Running Elk wasn't just good to look at. She was also his buddy, always helpful and somebody to rely on.

"Think he'll do time?"

Janet nodded. "Between Cramer, DA McAdam and Judge Herbert, definitely. Lemme see that report."

Cliff showed her and she corrected a few things to make the case 'watertight' as she said. Janet had joined right out of high school and she had three years seniority on Cliff. Once he was finished it was three o' clock and Cliff posted his cruiser in full visibility in the parking lot of the high school, to discourage drunks from driving home in their cars. It worked. A number of — mostly male — reunion guests made a sharp turn when they saw the cruiser and Cliff could see that the one cab company Clearwater could boast was making good business that night.

The place shut down at five and Cliff returned to the station. By six, his shift was finished, and he drove home to catch some much needed sleep. Tired as he was, not even the thoughts of Kylie could keep him from falling asleep in short time.

He woke at noon. Sheriff Cramer was on the phone and gave orders for Cliff to show at the town hall at two and to wear his best uniform. Cliff showered while his mother made him coffee and prepared a turkey sandwich. He ate hungrily while his father filled him in.

"News are full of the story. They mentioned you a coupla times, too. They even have some reporters coming in from Los Angeles for the press conference."

Cliff stopped the sandwich in midair, his mouth already open. "What press conference?"

"Town hall, at two."

"Well, I'll be damned," Cliff said softly.

It was a circus. At least twenty reporters and a half dozen cameras were waiting for them. Sheriff Cramer sat center, with Cliff and Chief Running Elk flanking her on either side. DA McAdam was also there, grim-faced and tired, as was the mayor, Tim Allday. Beth Cramer talked first, welcoming the reporters and relating the events that led to the alert Cliff had received. Then it was Cliff's turn. To his own surprise, he was able to give the type of concise description of the chase people expected. He ended describing how he rescued the female passenger from the car and how the driver was subdued. Then the reporters began to fire the questions.

"Is it true that Kylie McAdam was in the car?"

Cliff was flabbergasted that the reporter was a woman he knew from the Network news. He answered guardedly. "Ma'am, it is not the policy of this department to divulge the names of witnesses and victims to the press."

"Was she a victim?"

"All I can tell you is that she had to be treated for injuries. Whether she is a victim must be determined by the legal authorities."

Then, the bomb blew up. "Deputy Henson, isn't it a fact that you were once the boyfriend of the victim?"

Cliff took a deep breath to bring order to his thoughts. "Again, I cannot answer that question without violating department rules."

"Then it is Kylie?" another reporter shot at Cliff.

"Any answer I can give would violate our rules. I will not comment on your speculation."

It went on and on from there. It was almost like in debate club at college, parrying the verbal thrusts and guessing the direction of the next attack. Cliff stood his ground while Sheriff Cramer and DA McAdam watched with amused smiles. Finally the reporters relented.

DA McAdam was next, detailing what preliminary charges would be filed against the suspect.

"The state will prosecute for a drug possession charge, for driving under the influence of alcohol and banned substances, for reckless endangerment, and for resisting arrest. Preliminary tests show that Mr. Dumont was legally drunk while driving his rental car at speeds exceeding ninety miles per hour while still within the Clearwater town limits and trying to escape Deputy Henson's pursuit."

There were some questions regarding the legal proceedings and then a reporter shot another question at Cliff. "If I understood Mister McAdam, you were able to stay on the tail of a speeding Porsche sports car with your police cruiser?"

Sheriff Cramer found it necessary to answer the question. "Our law enforcement officers are trained to handle their cars during high speed pursuits and also in the tactics involved. At no time did Deputy Henson attempt to overtake the fleeing car as this is against department rules. We keep visual contact and block the road ahead. Our primary concern is to not endanger lives on either side while at the same time enforcing the laws strictly."

The reporter was insistent. "And your views, Deputy?"

"I wouldn't be able to keep up with a trained driver in a Porsche, but it was dark, the road was narrow, and the driver in question was in no way able to handle the car competently. I kept a distance avoiding any situation that might have caused a possibly lethal accident." Cliff allowed himself a grin. "And to answer your question as it was meant — I am no relation to the Earnhard family.”

Thus, the press conference closed with laughter. However and unbeknownst to Cliff, his articulate answers and his boyish good looks had attracted the interest of a female reporter from the local CBS affiliate. Within an hour she had unearthed the history of Cliff Henson and Kylie McAdam and another hour later she had found former class mates willing to give her what juicy details they knew.

On the next evening's infotainment show, she reported about Hugh Dumont's latest run-in with the law, showing his mug shot. Then they showed footage of Cliff at the press conference and introduced him as Kylie McAdam's former fiancé. The closing commentary was, "I don't know what Kylie's tastes are, but to drop that hunk for Hugh Dumont has to be the worst judgement call ever."

Cliff did not see the show (he was on duty) but he had to see the clip time and again over the next days when his colleagues teased him with it.

Hugh Dumont was arraigned before Judge Herbert three days after the chase, still wearing bandages. He was represented by a lawyer from Missoula who, after viewing the evidence, began talking plea bargain. James McAdam listened politely and declined. The case was solid, the defendant was already under a suspended sentence for assault and drug possession in California, and most of all, McAdam wanted to see him locked away.

The lawyer filed for a trial date in the fall claiming his client's busy schedule, but James McAdam, briefed privately by Kylie, was able to refute those claims as bogus. The judge set the bail at $200,000 and scheduled the trial for the next week.

For the trial, a truckload of well dressed Californian lawyers made their appearance filing all sorts of motions. The Judge asked who of them was a member of the Montana State Bar Association and that left the lone lawyer from Missoula to sit with Hugh Dumont. All the suits huddled together and then approached James McAdam again for a plea bargain. Again, he listened politely and when they offered a full guilty plea on all charges against a prison sentence of less than one year, McAdam accepted. An agreement was drafted and Hugh Dumont pled guilty to all charges and professed his deep remorse.

Judge Herbert adjourned until three o' clock and then he read the verdict. Dumont was sentenced to a total of eleven months and three weeks, just days shy of a full year that would make him a felon, and probation was ruled out.

Dumont was allowed to leave the courthouse on a $200,000 bail. He was given a week to settle his affairs in Los Angeles before he had to return to begin his jail sentence. One of his LA lawyers had to give him a ride as the Porsche had been collected by the rental company, but his personal property was still at the station house. Cliff was there when Hugh came to collect his travel bag and other items. The man stopped at Cliff's desk.

"So you're the wonderful Cliff, huh?"

Cliff didn't bother to stand. Dumont would not be stupid enough to pick a fight with a deputy right after being set free on bail. He just looked at the man and smiled.

"I wouldn't know about wonderful. I am Cliff to my friends and Deputy Henson to you."

"I can't understand what Kylie sees in you. For two years I had to listen to her telling me what a great boyfriend she’d had. You're nothing but a runt and you'll ride patrol cars until your butt spreads out from all the donuts."

Cliff did not allow the man to rile him. “Don’t worry about my butt. Yours will get quite a workout over the next months," he drawled and the room exploded in laughter, with Janet Running Elk high-fiving Cliff.

"You can have her," Dumont spat.

"Whom?"

"Kylie! I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole after the way she turned on me. She may not be a tight fit anymore though. I stretched the bitch quite a bit."

Cliff kept his cool. He forced himself to grin back. "You know, that's what your cell mate will also claim a year from now."

Before Hugh could think of an answer, Janet Running Elk, all five foot nine inches of her, placed herself in front of him.

"You got your stuff? Now scram! This may surprise you, but your popularity in this town is zero and dropping. Trash talking one of ours may just get you a thick ear. If I see you five minutes from now, I'll book you for loitering. Git!"

"Bitch!" Dumont hissed, turning and heading for the door.

"Yup, that's what they’ll call you in the joint," Cliff shouted after him.

There was more chuckles and Janet ruffled Cliff's hair. Then she pulled him into an empty interrogation room.

"College Boy, you made my day! So, watcha gonna do about Miss Superstar?"

Cliff made himself shrug. "Nothing. I hope she'll go back to L.A. soon so we'll have our peace again."

"So, you're done with her?"

"Damn right I'm done!"

"The shit went to her head back then. You sure you don't want to give her a chance to talk?"

Cliff squinted at her. "Wait a second! You two used to be as thick as thieves. She put you up to this!"

"We talked a week ago when she gave her deposition. Know why he beat her up?"

"Do I want to know?"

"I think so. She pulled the key from the ignition to keep him from trying to break through the road block. That's why he beat up on her."

"Well, she has a sense of self preservation even when she's drunk."

"You wanna know why she can't stop boozing?"

"Please, Jan, can't we leave this alone?"

"She drinks because she can't get over how she treated you."

"Jesus H. Christ on the fucking cross!" Cliff exploded. "And now I'm supposed to feel sorry for her? Forgive her, too? She spread her legs for the first sleaze bag who came her way. She gave him her panties for a trophy and showed her cunt to the world. She had the fucking nerve to wear the ring I gave her while his spunk was still running down her legs!"

Janet flinched only a little.

"I guess that had to come out at one point," she said evenly. "She was nineteen, she had been running on fumes for days, and then they filled her up with Champagne and uppers. It was a shitty way to treat you, but nobody knows it better than Kylie. She asked a lot about you, and I told her about your plans, going to law school and such. She cried her eyes out. I guess she realized what she's thrown away."

"Janet, give it up! I can't and I won't. She'll be back in L.A. in a week or two, back to boozing and partying, and she'll find another prick to help her get over her guilt."

"She isn't going anywhere. McAdam put his foot down. She's entering a rehab program here in town. She'll also help with caring for her mother."

Cliff snorted. "A bit late, don't you think?"

"Better late than never. Listen, Cliff, think about it. What can it hurt if you listen to her? She wants to apologize. You don't have to forgive her — hell, maybe you shouldn't — but let her say her piece."

“I’ll think about it."

3 - Milk and Yoghurt

Kylie McAdam was pacing up and down in her parents' living room, fighting the overwhelming urge to go and find a bar, to get the drink she so desperately needed. It was over two weeks since her last glass of Champagne and even a day longer since her last shot of Vodka, her favorite in the last year. Sure enough, there was not a drop of alcohol in the house; her father had seen to that.

She looked at her wristwatch. It was not even ten a.m., and her mother would not be back from the hospital before one. Kylie had wanted to come along but her mother refused. She had cleaned the kitchen, she had changed the bed linens, she had vacuumed the carpets. Now there was NOTHING LEFT TO DO!

The Devil finds work for idle hands. The saying went through her mind while at the same time her lips seemed to taste the Vodka already. FUCK! What could she do? She had to get out of the house. Running? That's what she could do. Just run in the summer sun and sweat out the bad thoughts. In less than ten minutes, she was ready. Those running shoes had not seen action in six years and the shorts were old and hopelessly unfashionable, but what did she care? She knew better than to run towards the town center. There was a liquor store on High Street, and that’s where the Devil lurked. She ran the other way, out of town. She had not run in years and her body was not used to exercise anymore. Soon her sides started to ache but the pain was feeling good. She deserved to hurt. She did not stop, she just kept running uphill, her heart pumping madly and her vision blurry. Just a few more yards, just one more bend in the road.

She hadn't even noticed that she was lying on the tarmac until hands gripped her to turn her over.

"Ma'am, are you hurt? Do you need … Oh fuck!"

Kylie opened her eyes. Looking up, there was Cliff's face floating in the air above her.

"Hey, Cliff, I’m running."

"HQ, this is Cliff. I need an ambulance on the Missoula Highway three miles out from town, near the old mine. Got a collapsed jogger here; she coming 'round, though. … Hard to say, maybe too much running, maybe booze. … Okay, if you say so … Great, just great. I'll run her down to the hospital. Over and out."

Cliff's face looked down. "Can you stand up?"

With his help, she could. Once again she sat in his cruiser on the way to the hospital.

"What were you doing running around out here?"

His question almost startled her. "I was running."

"Duh! But why?"

"Don't know. I had to get out." Kylie inhaled and exhaled, trying to clear her woozy head. "I was getting stir crazy at home. Nothing to do. I knew if I stayed just a minute longer I'd go to town and find booze."

"Liquor store got warned not to sell anything to you," he said.

She looked at him but he stared ahead concentrating on driving the car.

"You don't know what I'm talking about. I would have found stuff."

"So, you went running instead."

"Yeah." She stretched her legs and emitted a groan. "I'm gonna be sorry for that."

"Maybe you should join a health club once you're back in L.A."

"Maybe, yeah. I need something to do now, but there's only so much I can clean in the house."

"So, you're the great musician. Why don't you sit and compose stuff?"

She snorted derisively. "Yeah, right. I've tried that and stopped years ago. No, I'm just a pretty mouthpiece for the real artists."

They had to stop at a traffic light and for the first time since he had started the car, he looked at her.

"Maybe you had nothing to say back then. What's a nineteen year-old got to say?"

She stared at him. She had not thought about that. A thought popped into her head.

"I sang Sky Below Us at the reunion."

"Yeah, Peter told me. Said you were rusty as hell."

"He did, huh? You know I'm not allowed to accompany myself? It's in my contract. Fucking trap!"

"I don't think they have spies in your father's house. And here we are."

That was a preview of Her Apple Pie. To read the rest purchase the book.

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