The Slow Moon by Elizabeth Cox Page A

Davenport.”
    At the mention of his name, Crow looked up.
    “Did you happen to see anyone else there, in the woods? Did you see anyone from the party there?”
    “No.” Crow hadn’t appeared to even try to recall whether he had seen someone.
    “You sure?”
    Crow looked toward his dad, who was not moving, not even blinking. “Yes, I’m sure.”
    That was all.
    Crow was allowed to step down, but as he walked back to the defense table, he shuddered. Aurelia Bailey breathed heavily, seeing Crow step out of the witness box, a gloomy mist emanating from his body. She tried to read the jurors’ expressions, but their eyes stayed level. Their body language revealed nothing. Crow coughed before sitting down, and a weak rattle could be heard in his chest.
    The jurors were dismissed and the courtroom emptied, but as Crow went through the side doors, he half turned to look at Judge Bailey and Bobby, a wide sharpness in his face. Aurelia saw the alert grief in him, and she felt the heat of Bobby beside her.
    As they left, Bobby nodded to his friend once, in a military way.

Thirteen
    B OBBY HAD NOT seen Crow for several weeks, not since it happened. He didn’t know what to say. But Aurelia kept insisting that he go over to the house. “He’s your best friend, Bobby.”
    But Bobby did not go. He couldn’t talk to Crow but found some reassurance in talking to the other boys who were being questioned by the police, comparing what they were asked and what they had answered.
    Lester and Tom closed the gate to Bobby’s yard. Dog came barreling up to greet them. They sat in swings from a childhood swing set that was cemented into the ground. Their legs dragged in the dust.
    “Deputy Canton ask you a lot of shit?” Bobby asked.
    “They asked everything,” said Lester. “Hell, they accused me of helping Crow attack her. I ended up yelling at them.”
    “Me too,” said Tom. “And they tried to make me say that we got Sophie drunk so Crow could get laid.”
    “They’re going after everybody the same way,” said Bobby.
    Aurelia came out the back door and went to the side garden with a basket of tools. She dug out a few weeds.
    “What does your mom say, Bobby?”
    “Not much.”
    Lester’s determination had grown unstoppable. “I hope they find the sons of bitches,” he said. His mind couldn’t take in what was done to Sophie. “They can’t pin this on Crow.”
    Tom nodded. “How’s Crow doing anyway? Anybody talk to him?”
    “Not yet,” said Bobby.
    Aurelia stood up. “You boys ought to go over there. All of you. Stop avoiding him. It doesn’t matter what you say. Just go.”
                      
    Bobby and his mother had come to Tennessee from Washington, D.C., when he was five, almost six. His father was gone, a car accident, his mother told him. Bobby only half believed that. His head, even at that age, buzzed with doubt. He had never seen his father’s dead body, and he remembered no funeral. The funeral was private, his mother explained. Bobby had stayed home with a babysitter. Within a week they moved to Tennessee.
    In South Pittsburg, Aurelia Bailey, not yet a judge, placed Bobby in first grade. On his first day at school he sat at his desk in shorts, a new shirt, and sneakers, his spine very straight. He held a teddy bear with both hands. No one spoke to him at first.
    At recess the teacher, Miss Sweet, who had a mean voice, introduced Bobby as the “new boy.” The first person to speak to him was Crow Davenport. He asked Bobby to get the softballs out of the locker and said he could play ball with them, if he wanted to. Bobby ran to gather up softballs and a few bats, struggling to carry everything to the makeshift baseball diamond, where the bases were rocks painted yellow.
    “You go first,” Crow said. “You be first bat.”
    The pitcher lobbed the ball across the plate. Bobby hit it high and halfway across the field. All of the kids swung around to stare first at the ball in