You never liked Leland Coyle. Don’t get it wrong, he was always very charismatic, charming, funny, and handsome. He was a Sargent—a friend to all and widower (three times over in fact despite only being in his late thirties.)

Of course there were rumors about him. Rumors that he had a thing for gentleman’s clubs, that he was easily bribed, and even thar he was the one who killed his former wives. Despite how silly they seemed a small part of you believe them even though there was no evidence you just had this gut feeling.

However, you caught his attention. Somehow running into him after church, at diners, even just on the street. Coyle seemed to bump into you wherever you went. Always striking up a conversation as he always done.

“Fine morning we’re having” he would always say in that drawl. Coyle’s smile always seemed more sinister than intended and not know where he was looking through his black aviator sunglasses.

It was Sunday morning—you were still trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

Your parents had dragged you to church as usual. Your parents were talking with Coyle as he sat in the same pew as your family. Figures. You sat in between your parents as they talked to the officer. But you could tell that Coyle wanted to chat with you too.