Hallow Springs

One

Deputy Peters burst into the Sheriff's office, bringing Irwin Rogers to his feet, and judging by his foreboding expression, the Sheriff knew what was coming before it was said.

"We found her..." Rogers plucked his cowboy hat from his desk, fastened it over his head and followed. Within ten minutes, his police cruiser skidded to a halt near the edge of the quarry. The town had already gathered as word spread faster than any 911 call. He ducked under the yellow caution tape that cordoned off the scene.

The deputy on the scene met him and began briefing with him as they approached the edge of the quarry.

"Joe Plunkit was out walking his dog and saw headlights leave the scene. It was pitch black so he said he couldn't make out the vehicle, but he was curious as to why someone would be over here at this hour. And then he found her." They had just gotten to the edge of the quarry. It descended into a deep canyon, but down one shelf – a shape was discernible.

"Let's get down there." Irwin scaled the steep slope, steading himself on trees and boulders along the way, until he reached the quarry shelf. As he approached closer, a horrific sight came into view – a rolled plastic sheet of translucent material. Heat swelled up in his chest and his stomach heaved over itself, as another sight came into view – a pair of bare feet sticking out of the bottom of the plastic roll. Judging by the size, they belonged to someone no older than twelve years old.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sheriff Irwin Rogers jarred awake from the dream with as gasp. He found his bearings in his patrol car and pulled his trademark cowboy hat back over his eyes. It had been five years since they found Suzie Parker on the quarry shelf and it was still the one thing that haunted him from his forty plus years of service to Hallow Springs. He caught his breath and leaned back in the driver seat, letting Merle Haggard help bring his pulse down.

"I been a workin' man dang near all my life... I'll be working long as my two hands are fit to use... I'll drink my beer in a tavern... Sing a little bit of these working man blues..."

As head lawman of the peaceful North Carolina mountain town, the sixty-five year old sheriff was a fixture of the community. Over his forty plus year career in local law enforcement, he had met all 4,570 residents for better or worse. He was finally coasting to retirement, hoping his pension would mature before he kicked the bucket.

His car was pointed at a speed trap but his radar gun was turned off. It was a quiet night just as all nights in Hallow Springs were. He would be headed home to Sarah, his wife, in the next hour and he would sleep in the next day. He figured sleeping in on Monday was the best possible way to start his week.

But then, a voice came over his radio.

"Sheriff?" Irwin lifted his head, tilted his hat back and eyed the radio. He arched an eyebrow and considered whether he could ignore it. Donna was on the phones tonight and knowing how much of a social butterfly she was, she probably just wanted to dish about her latest celebrity gossip magazine. He fell back against the headrest and inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh. He hoped she would leave him alone, but her voice came through again.

"Sheriff? Come in, Sheriff?" he paused again. "I know you're there, Sheriff. Pick up!"

Either Angelina Jolie is pregnant again or there is some real police work that needs to be done.

With a shake of the head, he snatched the radio up and pressed the call button. "Yes ma'am..." his voice drawled a long, low reply.

"We got a 207..."

He arched his other eyebrow, thinking that he could have forgotten the code, it had been used so few times.

"A 207?" Irwin needed to confirm she used the right code.

"Yeah, we just got a call from the sister... she's in a full panic. She's still at the house..."

"What's the address?"

"208 Vesta." He pulled his seat back up and leaned into the radio.

"Did you say 208 Vesta?"

"Yes, do you know that address."

"I'm on my way." Rogers kicked the gear shift into drive and stomped on the gas. He flipped the siren on and it bellowed out into the night. Irwin couldn't help but shudder at the numbers – 207. He had heard the usual codes come over the comm countless times. Plenty of 390s for drunk in public and 507s for public nuisance down at the Lumber Mill bar. Ever so often he'd receive a 415 for a domestic disturbance, but Hallow Springs was largely a well-behaved town. But 207 was a police scanner code he had only heard one other time. 207 was the police code for a missing person and the last time he had heard it was five years ago when twelve-year-old Suzie Parker disappeared without a trace.

Three days after disappearing, her body was found in the quarry – murdered. The 207 had become a 187 homicide that would go unsolved. Every single one of Hallow Springs's 4,570 residents came to know that horrific story, whether they experienced it first hand or heard about it immediately upon moving to the town. It surely was the black stain on Hallow Springs's history – and it happened on Sheriff Irwin Roger's watch.

Rogers steered down a largely empty Main Street. The old street lights cast dim lights on the sidewalks, illuminating the path before him. He followed them to the end of the strip and pulled down a side road that led to the town's school. The middle and high schools illuminated in flashing red and blue as he passed, then the football and baseball stadiums. He silenced his siren but kept the lights on as he entered a neighborhood, backing the baseball outfield. After a few blocks he pulled down Vesta street and stopped in front of the house.

He thought he might be overreacting as he felt his gut twist into a knot. He tried to exhale his worry as he knocked on the door, he was sure that there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe he left town without a note or his cell phone had died. She was probably just worried about her brother and needed calming down, until he could reach him. But when Zoe opened the door, the look of dread on her face erased those possibilities. She didn't say anything, rather she just stepped aside letting the living room come into view.

The Sheriff stepped inside and surveyed the debris around him – the overturned chair, the broken lamp, shattered glass and blood on the floor, smeared toward the back door. A weight dropped in him as he realized he had another 207 on his hands again. He formed the only words that could come to his mouth

"My God..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Make sure to comment and let me know what you think!

Please vote and share!