Love, Scars, & Shooting Stars

Chapter Eleven

After slipping the broken padlock back into the hasp of the rusty gate, Julie slid back into her car and rolled slowly across the barren lot, with only a hazy moon and the lone, flickering streetlamp to light the way. Upon reaching the defunct railroad trestle, she swung the car around and backed deep into the shadows beneath the bridge for the eighth night in a row. After the second night, she had stopped worrying about police patrols, and since the weekend had come and gone with no surprise visits from drug dealers or amorous teens, Julie felt secure in her initial belief that she and Finn would be safe here, from both bodily harm and detection. Who knew, maybe she'd finally be able to get a decent night's sleep tonight? She switched off the engine, and an eerie silence closed in around them.

"It's creepy down here," Finn said, clambering between the bucket seats to make up his bed in the back.

"You think?" Julie asked, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She was inclined to agree, but she hid it well. "I think it's kind of peaceful."

"Whatever," Finn muttered, burying his head beneath the blanket.

"Hey." Julie teased, turning to lightly swat at the mound beneath the covers. "Where's my goodnight kiss?"

Finn groaned and made a dramatic show of righting himself before leaning over the console and planting a stiff peck on her cheek. Julie could smell the toothpaste on his breath, and his hair was still damp from the shower at the public beach on the other side of town. She smiled, and he rolled his eyes before flopping back down onto the seat and pulling the blanket up over his head.

An hour's time found Julie staring out through the windshield, unable to sleep despite a hard day's work. Finn lay softly snoring in the back seat, a sound that would ordinarily lull her into a state of calm, but tonight only served as a reminder of how much was at stake. Growing up dirt poor, with a drunken mother and no father to speak of, Julie had seen her share of hard times, and she knew how to cope. Kids are supposedly more resilient than adults, but it still surprised her how well Finn was coping with their current situation, all things considered. That should have come as a relief, but instead it was killing her, because he shouldn't have to be coping with any of it. On the day that he was born, Julie had sworn that she would give her son a better life, that he would never see the miseries she had seen or learn the lessons that she had learned.

And yet, here we are, she thought miserably.

With tears in her eyes, Julie slipped out of the car and eased the door shut so as not to wake her son, thankful that the interior light had stopped working months ago. When all remained quiet inside the car, she slipped the keys into her pocket and ambled out from under the bridge, her face tipped up to the night sky. If there was ever a time when she needed a wish it was now, but with a low cloud cover obscuring all but the full moon and maybe a dozen or so of the closest stars, Julie doubted she'd be seeing anything streak across the sky that night.

"Not the best night for stargazing."

Julie swallowed a scream and whirled around, her eyes frantically scanning the darkness to find the source of the voice. A man's voice, she realized, just as a form emerged from the shadows at the other end of the trestle and began to move slowly toward her. Julie's pulse quickened as panic swelled in her chest, and she took an involuntary step backward as she scanned the ground for something to use as a weapon. The crunch of gravel and broken pavement ceased, and when Julie looked up she was relieved to see Cameron Shepherd standing in the moonlight several yards away. A flood of relief washed over her, and her heart slowed closer to its normal rhythm.