Thanks! That’s what I’m beginning to think. We can’t find any proof of anything—just lots of stories. Plus, people around here are saying that Wither is still killing girls but he’d be like ninety!

4leafclover:

Corareef12, just how old are you? You really shouldn’t give personal info about where you’re from here…

Beth Crow Monday, April 16, 2018

Beth Crow

Monday, April 16, 2018

Following closely behind Officer Grady, Violet and I make our way up the steps and into the police station, a squat, one-story redbrick building with the words City of Pitch Police Department stenciled in orange letters across the large plate-glass window. The shell of a pay telephone hangs between a set of double doors and a wooden bench.

“Go ahead and take a seat for a minute,” Officer Grady says, gesturing to the wooden bench littered with newspapers and magazines. “I’ll go check on the kids and come get you so we can talk.”

We sit on the wooden bench and wait. I wonder if I should call a lawyer right now, just in case, but I don’t know any attorneys and I sure as hell can’t afford one.

“Mom, what do they think Max did?” Violet asks.

“Nothing. It’s just a misunderstanding,” I reassure her. “We’ll get it straightened out and go home.”

The front entrance opens and a woman walks in with a young girl that I recognize as Nikki’s little sister. The woman is wearing an egg-yolk-colored waitress uniform from a twenty-four-hour café located on the highway south of town. Her frosted hair is scraped back in a tight bun and a thick layer of foundation and lipstick do nothing to hide the fatigue on her face.

“You’re Max’s mom,” she says. Her heavily mascaraed eyes settle on me. It’s an accusation. There is no friendliness in her tone and I know this isn’t going to go well.

“Yes, I’m Beth Crow,” I say and both Violet and I rise from our spots on the bench. I try to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “And you are…?”

“Lorena Dobric, Nikki’s mother. What kind of trouble has your son gotten Nikki into this time?” she asks. The little girl eases away from her mother as if hoping to avoid any crossfire.

“Hold on,” I say. “Let’s just wait and see what they tell us. The officer just went in back to get Max.”

“I know what they’ll tell us. That your son and that other boy, Clint, have gotten Nikki in trouble.” Lorena leans over the counter and calls out, “Anybody there? I want to talk to someone now! I want to see my daughter!”

“Mom?” Violet asks uncertainly.