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Small Town Monsters

3

Chapter 2

A crisp fall morning greeted Kurt as he strolled out of the diner. He took two deep breaths of clean mountain air. He couldn’t help but smile a little. The roads shone, licked clean by a light drizzle the previous night. Todd Cottrell droned by in his old Ford pickup, his two purebred Weimaraner hunting dogs in the bed, lavishing in the cool air. Todd spotted Kurt standing on the stoop of Abigail’s , wearing his beige uniform and dark brown baseball cap with the DePalma Beach Police seal embroidered in gold thread on its front. Todd waved and smiled as he drove by. Kurt waved back.

Kurt walked to his muddy Blazer, parallel parked in front of the diner. He got into the police Blazer and fired the engine to life. He backed out onto Main Street and drove at a leisure speed toward the station. It would be another slow day. That was okay; Kurt liked slow days. The tourist season had ended, ebbing traffic to a trickle. There was hardly a speeder to bust after mid-August. Each day lay before him like a blank canvas and it was up to him to paint. Kurt thought of the little town as one of America’s best-kept secrets; he feared that if the outside world ever caught wind of its quaintness, people would swarm the place and change it forever.

DePalma Beach wasn’t perfect; but was there really a

Concerning:

Kurt McCammus

Todd Cottrell

Todd Cottrell’s 2 purebred weimaraners

Clay Hickman

The General