She recognised the young officer as the one who had driven Sidney away the previous night, and decided that if any police officer had information to share regarding Sidney, it was probably this one. Admittedly, the fact that he knew she'd been chasing Sidney for an interview might count against her; on the other hand, he'd also seen Sidney punch her, which ought to be good for a few sympathy points. Besides, he looked young enough to be in her demographic, so she decided it was worth a shot.

Gale had never really understood the concept of subtlety, so her approach to the young deputy was shamelessly blatant; and it paid off. Some small snippets of information she suspected he hadn't even realised he was giving her, and then a somewhat bashful compliment which suggested that this particular source might not be averse to further chats with the redoubtable Gale Weathers.

So when she arrived at the house where the party was being held, she was prepared for a second encounter and, living up to her expectations, he even agreed to take her with him when he went to check out the party, affording her the perfect opportunity to place a camera inside the house. Between this covert camera deployment, graceful acceptance of the usual flattering remarks from starstruck fans, and her own mental notetaking, Gale was somewhat preoccupied, but she was still peripherally aware of the young officer's pride in having her with him. Undoubtedly, it was useful; but she was also beginning to find it rather endearing.

It swiftly became plain to her that, for his part, the deputy found her more than endearing. They'd been out of the house for barely an hour when he came to the van, inviting her to accompany him to check out a lead. The fact that he suggested walking rather than taking his patrol car suggested that he wasn't expecting the abandoned vehicle to be of any significance, but by that point Gale had already agreed to accompany him. Still, she didn't really regret her choice; the party had been proving as dull to watch as most teenage parties, and an evening stroll with an attractive young man who clearly thought she'd dropped straight from heaven would make a pleasant interlude. Besides, she justified it to herself, cultivating Deputy Dewey could potentially result in even greater dividends if he happened to let slip any further information about Sidney or the killer. Somehow, though, these fascinating topics simply didn't crop up in the conversation as they strolled in the direction of the abandoned car. Instead, they talked about themselves; oh, nothing particularly deep and meaningful, but enough to create a connection between them, so that, when they were forced off the road and Dewey landed on top of her, Gale gave in to her instincts and kissed him.

And for a brief, delightful moment, he'd responded; before his sense of duty forced him to pull away. Gale was accustomed to competing with many other factors in the lives of the men she dated; it was just that, until today, conscientiousness hadn't been one of them. In fact, really, when she thought about it, she had to laugh - albeit somewhat ruefully. Although she did notice that Deputy Dewey's sense of duty wasn't quite sufficient to cause him to direct his attention away from her to the car (not, at least, until she reached out and physically turned his head in the appropriate direction), so Gale rather sensed that, duty or not, she still represented a very considerable enticement.

After the identification of the car, however, Gale's usual journalistic monomania returned full force, and that, coupled with the exigencies of trying to save her own life, tended to blot the pleasant interlude with Deputy Dewey from her mind. When she next saw him, lying in a heap on the porch, she was convinced he was dead; and when she landed against him, after Billy sent her flying, she would have screamed at the thought of lying on top of a corpse if her well-honed survival instinct hadn't very emphatically told her that seeming to be anything other than unconscious would be a spectacularly bad idea.

When the nightmare was finally over, and the EMTs had arrived, naturally she was glad to find that Dewey was, in fact, still alive. But she was the first reporter on the scene, and the only one to have actually been an eye witness, so her report to camera was clearly the most pressing issue. She had her job to do, and Dewey obviously needed urgent medical treatment; anything else would have to wait.

Later, as she was packing to leave Woodsboro, probably for good, she toyed with the idea of stopping by the hospital, not quite on her way to the airport, to see Dewey, just for a moment; but then, really, what could she say to him if she did? She liked him, and she was well aware just how much he liked her, but their acquaintance had been undeniably brief. The time they'd spent together barely added up to an hour, even if she included the minutes she'd spent playing dead, lying against his unconscious body.

So Gale just left. Although not quite without a second thought. After all, her most pressing occupation now was to write the definitive book on the Woodsboro murders, and her experience of that was inextricably bound up with Deputy Dewey Riley.

She didn't hesitate to put down her initial dismissive judgement of him, but when it came to their later interactions, for once she decided to stay her pen. She had no intention of mentioning her covert camera, and while she wasn't precisely conversant with all the niceties of police procedure, she suspected that Dewey had stretched a point by taking her with him to the party. And she was almost certain that the Sheriff wouldn't have approved of her involvement in the discovery of Neil Prescott's car. Luckily, her journalistic style lent itself well to a thorough, but distant, recounting of events. If people wondered just where she'd gotten such detailed information, well, let them wonder. She wasn't admitting to any of it in print, which should keep her and Dewey both out of trouble, and everyone would be happy.

Not that Dewey himself would be likely to read the book. After all, it dealt in gruesome detail with his sister's murder and his own stabbing; Gale didn't really imagine he'd want to read about those. Besides, he'd been there - he knew just as much about the murders as she did. No, the only reason he'd have to read the book would be if he still had any sort of feelings for the author. Which she wasn't naïve enough to imagine he would. Not that she'd ever know; she was never likely to run into him again.