As a teenager, when Boo found herself in times of hardship, Martha would remind her of the importance of a brave facade. "Never show what you're feeling," she chided. "People will take any emotion they see and interpret it as weakness. Weakness will run you into the ground in a place like this."

Again, that was one of those tidbits Boo never quite grasped. Memories of Martha often ignited a chain reaction in her brain; floodgates would open and the past would push into her vision, hazy like a dream. Barely a moment would pass before the face of her beloved father, Russell, would fade in like the morning light.

Despite being gone for many years, he always managed to resurface in her mind's eye at the right moments, usually when she needed sound advice. Russell's wisdom was always there in the back of her mind, ready to make sense of the world around her.

He'd taught her something quite opposite to Martha: "Emotion is what makes us human; sets us apart from the rest of the world. Whatever feelings you feel at any moment are meant to be there, so don't fight them, darling. Use them; follow them; trust them. Your capacity to feel is your greatest strength."

For many years, Boo had grown up in a shell of uncertainty and learned from a young age not to question her instincts. They were the one thing in this world she could count on; she could thank Russell for that. In those moments of sorrow, which she was all too familiar with nowadays, she'd rely on his advice more than ever.

Beneath the sad still remains the lingering doubt she's been struggling to quell for days. What if it wasn't the hurricane that killed Martha? The conversation she had with Harry on the cliff only made that terrible thought more powerful. At night her dreams were plagued with images of shattering windows and a faceless woman screaming in the distance.

The doubts would too summon her father's face into her mind, if only for the briefest of moments. Boo could practically hear him telling her what to do.

"Truth is a great pursuit, but there is always more than one truth. Doing the right thing is an admirable intention, but there are many right things to do. Your truths are not always those of another, Melita. Remember that."

Hearing his voice in her memory made it easier to keep his face from the changes of time-deep brown eyes that matched her own, weathered cheeks, a smile that was always ready to welcome to her. No matter how her day was going or how he was feeling, Russell was always ready to greet his daughter with a grin and a hug. "I've got you now," he used to say. "You're safe now."

That sense of security had long flown from her life, following his untimely death. Martha did her best to restore some normalcy to Boo, a stark contrast to the turbulence caused by having Lori as her temporary caregiver. It wasn't the same as having her father around, but at least Boo knew she could count on Martha for most things.

However flawed her grandmother was and however strange her logic was, she still loved Boo and tried hard as hell to protect her from an unforgiving town. Whatever happened the night of May second is a truth yet uncovered, and Boo refuses to let it stay that way for long. She will follow the seed of doubt-follow her grief to wherever it leads. The crawling sensation under her skin must be there for a reason.

« • »

The next morning arrives with a blanket of rain clouds and Boo realizes enough is enough; if she wants to finally put her mind at ease, she'll just have to keep knocking on doors until one opens. At noon she drives to the police station, gunning to speak to anyone about her suspicions.

When she enters the department, the same desk cop from her last visit is sitting behind the reception counter. He rolls his eyes upon seeing her, not even bothering to disguise his distaste. Boo bristles with irritation but maintains a placid smile as she approaches the desk.

"Hi, I need to speak to someone right away," she says in her politest voice. The cop wordlessly gestures to the main department room with a pudgy hand. Boo jots down her name on the sign-in pad and rushes into the big office.

The main department is once more plunged in chaos; not quite as bad as when Harry was arrested, but several cops are bustling around and multiple phones are ringing. She cranes her neck to find anyone who seems to have a free moment; a few people meet her gaze but no one offers to help, despite her obvious desperation.

Suddenly Boo spots a familiar face across the room and immediately perks up.

"H-Hey!" she shouts, garnering the attention of the officers around her but not the one she needs. She pushes past a cop walking lazily in front of her and tries again. "Hey!"

Detective Loughton's footsteps slow and he turns around, eyebrows knitting together as Boo approaches.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, rather coldly.

Not the reaction I was hoping for but okay.

"I have to talk to you," she pants.

"Can't right now, I have a ton of work," he answers dismissively, brushing past her. "Make an appointment at the front desk to speak with someone."

She trails after him, an unwanted shadow tied to his heels. "But I have to talk to you. It's an emergency," she protests, practically running to keep up with him.

"Then call nine-one-one," he sneers down at her.

Her frustration boils over as he turns and keeps walking with that infuriating smug smile taped to his face. "Listen to me!" she cries, grabbing his elbow and yanking him to a stop.

Immediately his arm is ripped from her grasp and his face contorts in agitation. "Grab me again and I'll throw you in a cell for the night," he threatens through gritted teeth.

Boo's knees knock together in momentary disarmament, but at least she's gotten him to stop walking. "S-Sorry," she stammers, shrinking back a couple steps.

He sighs aloud and glances around the room; they're huddled together in a back hallway just a few feet away from the main department lobby. No one seems to be paying them any mind. He juts his chin out and rolls his eyes in defeat. "You have thirty seconds."

"Thank you," Boo huffs. "Remember in my interview I told you my Nana died as an act of God, right?"

"Okay, so what?" Loughton asks, his voice dripping with disinterest.

"So I think I was wrong," Boo says hurriedly. "I think someone may have done something to her and that she died before the hurricane. And I need you to look into it."

His nose twitches. "Why me?"

"Because you're the only cop who will even look at me anymore," she says, her throat growing tight. "I need answers and I am begging you to help me. Just review her case and do some whatever you have to do to get answers. Order an autopsy if you have to! Please."

Loughton pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a brief moment. "Where's your proof?"

Boo falters, not prepared to hear that answer. "My what?"

"Your proof," he repeats impatiently. "I can't open an investigation on nothing. I need concrete evidence that disputes the current cause of death. Especially because the coroner refused the autopsy."

"Well, I don't have any yet but that's your job," she says.

"No, it isn't," he spits, cutting her off. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he leans down to glare at her. "Listen, we know all about you over here: about your deadbeat daddy, and your drug-addict mommy, and the fact that your Nannie was probably the only person who ever gave a damn about you."

His voice is a poison-tipped arrow, slowly slicing and sinking into the most tender parts of Boo's heart. Her throat goes dry and her mouth feels like it's suddenly been stuffed full of sawdust.

"Wh . . . why are you speaking to me like that?" she whispers, wishing she sounded more defensive than afraid.

"Why do you think no one wants to help you?" Loughton sneers. "Your reputation precedes you. Your grandma was a nut-job, your parents were leeches and thieves, and you're just a freakish little girl who can't go more than five minutes without needing everyone's attention on you."

Boo fights back angry, hurt tears. Her rabbit heart takes off at a hundred miles an hour while the arrow pushes a little deeper. She wants so badly to scream, to yell, to fight back and tell him he's wrong but the words won't come out.

"This isn't the Favor Department. You can't march in here and call up the troops any time you miss your grandma. Thirty-six other people died in that hurricane, yet you seem to be the only one who keeps showing up on my doorstep. We have real cases to solve and real people to save, so unless you have something to back up your little ideas then you need to turn around, get out of my way, and let me do my job."

He gives her one last jeering look before walking away and leaving Boo standing alone with her mouth hanging open in shock. She watches him disappear into an office and slam the door behind him. The cold sting of rejection lingers in the hallway.

She swallows the lump in her throat. Her voice bubbles up, even though the words come out too late.

"My daddy was not a deadbeat!" Boo cries, positively shaking with rage. "He was a good man and he loved me, he would've never left me!"

Silence from Loughton; seems he's done verbally assaulting her. She turns to leave but freezes when she sees the dozens of eyes trained on her. The entire room had watched the scene with Loughton unfold, but instead of sympathy Boo can only see judgement reflected back at her. Unable to take the pressure of having everyone watching her, she lifts her head and calmly walks out of the police department and down the concrete front steps, ignoring the fervent whispering that follows in her wake.

Outside, Captain Waters is smoking a cigarette and chatting with two other officers at the bottom of the stairs. All three pause their conversation to stare daggers at Boo as she walks past, head held high, and returns to her car.

Inside the quiet safety of her car, where her windows are dark enough to shield her from an unforgiving world, it only takes seconds for Boo to come apart under the weight of her frustration. She leans her head against the steering wheel and sobs aloud, hot tears falling from her eyes and skipping down onto her jeans. Loughton had struck a deep nerve; a sore spot that Boo had tried desperately to cover up and keep hidden. But to again be forcibly reminded of what the police department, and the entire town, thinks of her and her family is heartbreaking and discouraging all in the same breath.

Rain begins to beat down on the windshield. Her fingers fumble to find her phone; through watery vision, she struggles to unlock it before scrolling to Harry's contact. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" he murmurs, sounding far away and distracted. In the background there's music playing but the song is indistinguishable.

"Harry," Boo cries, her voice breaking. "Harry, where are you?"

"What's wrong?" he asks, his tone immediately going soft. Boo hears rustling as the music cuts off, and then his voice is much closer than before. "Boo, what is it?"

"I . . . I'm so embarrassed," she sobs, hiding her face in her free hand as more tears pour out.

"What's going on?" he asks, his inflection rising with concern. "Where are you?"

"At the police station," she answers in a ragged voice. "I . . ."

Get it together. Get it together.

Harry doesn't speak, waiting patiently for her to continue. She clears her throat and attempts to dry her face. "Are you busy? Can you come over, please?"

"Of course, I'll be there in a minute," he says gently. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she sniffles, blinking rapidly until her vision clears. Her head feels a little lighter and her chest is less constricted than before. She sucks in a deep breath. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be home."

« • »

Harry is sitting on Boo's porch steps when she pulls up a few minutes later. He stands as she parks, taking a moment to inhale and exhale to herself before she exits her car. Droplets of water race down her skin, but not even the rain can wash away the stain left by Loughton's words. Harry's face falls as she approaches and Boo knows she looks as bad as she feels.

"Hey, Harry," she mumbles, keeping her head down as she ascends the steps.

"What happened?" he asks, following her onto the porch. Boo fumbles with the lock, her eyes filling with tears again as his words reignite the anguish from before. She drops her keys and a few curse words before leaning her forehead against the door in defeat.

"Here, let me," he says, picking up her keys and unlatching the door in one swift try.

"Thanks," she says quietly, allowing him to drop her keys in her hands before following him into the house. She pushes the door shut and exhales deeply, her stomach finally beginning to unknot now that she's back in the sanctuary of her little home with company she can trust.

"What happened, Boo?" Harry repeats after a moment.

"Promise me you won't think I'm crazy," she whispers, wiping her eyes as a few stray tears spill over. She brushes past him and into the kitchen, unwilling to look him in the eye. She knows her resolve will crumble as soon as she does.

"I promise," he says solemnly. "Why did you go to the police station?"

Boo grabs a water bottle from the fridge and downs half of it, feeling the cold sensation race down her throat and spread into her chest, before she feels brave enough to answer his questions.

"To speak with Detective Loughton," she answers, grappling the nearest counter for stability. "I've been having some . . . issues, I guess, accepting that it was the hurricane that killed Nana."

Harry furrows his brow and inches closer, hands digging deep into his pockets. "What do you mean?"

Boo shakes her head. "I can't explain it, I just have a bad feeling anytime I think about it. And it's more than me just missing her, it's like I know something I'm not supposed to. I don't think she died in the hurricane, I think she may have been . . . murdered."

Her dark words hang in the dim air. Harry is visibly startled. Saying her thoughts out loud doesn't exactly quell her inner turmoil either. The rain begins to fall harder on the windows and Boo wonders if Martha is crying in Heaven.

"Murdered?" he repeats in surprise. "Why would anyone do that to her?"

She shrugs. "I asked Loughton to take a second look into her death and he completely shot me down because I have no proof. Then he proceeded to embarrass me in front of the entire department."

"Embarrass you?" he echoes, one hip resting against the kitchen sink. "How?"

Boo clenches her teeth, fighting to keep her frustration suppressed as she thinks about the detective's words. "He said my dad was a deadbeat and my mom was a drug-addict and that I have a 'reputation', and that no cop is going to help me because of how people see my family. Then he called Nana a nut-job and basically insinuated that she wasn't worth saving because I have no proof someone actually killed her."

"Jesus Christ," Harry murmurs.

"I mean, he's only half-wrong!" Boo laughs bitterly. Her voice cracks as the hurt pours out without hesitation. "My dad wasn't a deadbeat but he died and my mom decided she loved heroin more than she loved me, and Nana definitely was the only person who ever gave a damn about me! But God, isn't it his job to take care of the people who live here? Who does it hurt to have him look into how she died?

"They just wrote her off as another statistic. They found a body and just assumed that was how she died, she didn't even get an autopsy."

"Why not?" he asks.

"I can't afford it," Boo grumbles. "And because of the storm, the county won't perform them without reasonable cause."

Harry raises an eyebrow in confusion and Boo sighs. "Believe me, I've been barking up that tree for days. I figured if I could get one done then it would help ease whatever it is I'm feeling. If the coroner said she'd died from the hurricane then I would've believed it, but that's out the window now."

"Is that why you were at the station?" he asks quietly. "The day I was arrested?"

She nods silently, chewing on a hangnail. "I went to ask the coroner, but he told me the same thing; they can't order one without cause. I thought maybe Loughton would be able to side-step that rule but clearly he won't."

Harry remains silent for a few moments, leaving Boo to believe he's deep in thought. She chews on her thumbnail, her eyes anxiously jumping between the floor and Harry's tall figure shrouded in the dim light. He abruptly shifts from his position against the counter and removes his hands from his pockets as he clears his throat.

"Can I hug you?" he asks.

Boo's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Yeah, of course," she replies softly. He ambles over to her, his body curving to meet hers as he pulls her into a firm hug. Her cheek presses flat to his chest while her body goes flush against his; he smells like sandalwood and lemon and everything comforting.

"We'll figure it out," he says decidedly. Boo grips him tighter; her ears must be playing tricks.

"We?" she echoes.

She feels him nod against her head; he exhales, his breath rattling through her hair. In one moment, by some gift from the universe or maybe just a stroke of luck, Harry's managed to calm her nerves and reassure her in the best way possible. Her fingers curl into his back and her eyes shut, and for the first time in a long time, Boo feels a flicker of hope within.

nice long update for you! i've been wanting to post this scene for quite some time so i'm happy i'm finally able to.

*strokes beard thoughtfully* what did you think about this chapter? any new suspects?

also, happy thanksgiving to you (if you're celebrating today), and happy regular day to you if youre not :) what's your favorite comfort food?