The Midnight Hour, Part 2
Mary sat at her desk, staring at her clock, counting the hours between the tick and tock of each minute. The soft sounds of jazz wailed despair into the dark. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She’d cried her tears out in the Sheriff’s office.
She’d told the truth, but they hadn’t believed her. Had accused her of lying to protect Bobby no matter how hard she insisted it hadn’t been his fault. She’d been a fool to think they would. The town cast Bobby as the bad boy, their one and only juvenile delinquent. Couldn’t have a good town without a bad boy to blame. It kept their own hands clean of mud.
She’d left the police station at eleven, refusing the offered ride, trying over and over to reach Bobby on her way home. His phone went straight to voice mail. Where was he? Was he okay?
Had the sheriff arrested him for something she’d done?
On the way, she’d stopped at Gosling Lake, lay on the sand like they’d done so many times over the last year. He’d told her all about the stars, their names, the myths behind them, how stars were born and died, how their music had never been heard on earth. He knew everything about stars and she’d known so little, wished she could remember anything he’d said.
So, here she was, sitting at her desk, listening to the always-slow clock in the hall chiming midnight. Please call, she pleaded silently. Please.
Far in the distance, the whine of a siren startled the night. Tears fell.