a deadly storm, an unsolved disappearance, and a small town brimming with secrecy;
an outcast girl, a boy who only knows how to hide, and the world against them;
what could go wrong?
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The next morning, Boo is at the station before the doors open. She waits in her car for someone to unlock the front entrance, and as soon as a uniform shows up she's out and marching up the steps.
"Good morning," she says cheerily to the cop fiddling with the doors.
He gives her the side-eye but doesn't respond. Boo waits a moment to speak again.
"Are there any officers here yet?"
"Does it look like there is?" the cop replies gruffly. He swings open the door to reveal a dim, empty station. Boo follows him inside and he gives her another wary glare.
"Please, I need to speak to someone as soon as possible," Boo begs. "It's urgent."
The cop sighs deeply as he steps behind the reception desk and starts flicking on different switches. Breakers whine in protest before the hallways flood with light.
"Sign in on the clipboard and have a seat on the bench," he instructs her before ambling away. Boo scribbles her name on the clipboard and plonks down onto a bench in the hallway, placed just beneath the window that looks into the main desk area of the department.
The officer from last time shows up just after nine in the morning, a paper coffee cup in one hand and a briefcase in the other. His hair is unkempt and his coat askew as he tromps in through the front doors, grumbling to himself. His eyes meet Boo's and she stands right away, looking at him expectantly.
His jaw tightens. "Can I help you?" he spits, walking right past her.
His acrid tone hits her like a slap to the face but she manages to keep a peaceful demeanor; the last thing she wants to do is poke the bear this early in the morning.
"I need to talk to the coroner," she says, trailing after him into the main department. He ignores her for a moment, flicking on a set of switches by the door. Boo watches as the room illuminates in sections. The officer crosses the middle of the room and turns down a small hallway, passing the interrogation room where they first met.
"Coroner isn't here," he finally says as they reach a plain brown door. The nameplate on the wall says DET. LOUGHTON in thick white letters.
"Is that your name?" she asks, gesturing to the nameplate. He nods wordlessly, grey eyes watching her like a hawk. She hadn't realized he was a detective; maybe he'll be able to pull some strings for her.
"When does the coroner get here?" Boo presses, turning the conversation back. Detective Loughton unlocks the door to his office and enters, leaving Boo to follow behind like a lost puppy.
"Don't know," Loughton mutters as he begins unloading his stuff. He takes a sip from his paper cup and watches Boo closely. "Why do you need to see him?"
Boo, uninvited, takes a seat in one of the two leather chairs across from Loughton's desk; perhaps as a sign of compliance, she isn't sure. His eyes narrow as she sits but he doesn't say anything. "The county won't order an autopsy because of the hurricane, so I thought I would talk to him about it."
