Mainely About Honor: Book 02

My friends aren't any help, they don't remember anything either. We went over it and over it for the next two months. I wanted to tell David about it; I should have told him about it, but my friends convinced me not to. After all, what could I tell him when I didn't even know the truth myself?

Then the scene shifts to this morning when I read his text message, and my world came to an end. I now knew something of how my father must have felt, the guilt, the remorse, the knowledge that there was no way to take it back. The despair and depression he must have felt and that I now shared. My only thought, that next week is my birthday, and the best present I could get would be to either wake up and have it all have been a bad dream, or not to wake up at all.

But for now I do wake up. I begin to remember where I am, and look around to see the concerned looks on the faces of my friends, both old and new.

"We'll be landing in about a half hour," Alley says, "they will be off loading us first and Delta has arranged a private conference room for us to wait in until they board us at about 4PM. I would like you to stay in the wheel chair, although I will take off the straps, until we board. Bruce has arranged for food to be brought to the conference room, and you need to eat to help you regain your strength."

The next 10 hours pass uneventfully, with only an occasional discussion about our plans to find David. We didn't think that it would be that hard, after all Lincoln was a small town. How hard could it be?

We arrive at the Briarwood Hotel at about 11PM and as we checked in I identified myself and asked for a key to my husband's room. We left and when we got to David's room we found his car parked out side. My hopes started to rise, only to be dashed when we knocked and after no answer went into the room. All that was there were his car keys, wallet and phone on the bed and his clothes hung in the closet and in the dresser.

For a few minutes I just sit on the bed and cry, my friends around me. Then mentally shaking myself, I begin to think. Why had the manager given me the key? They're not supposed to do that unless the persons name is on the registration or listed as a guest.

Had David meant for me to find the room like this? If he had committed suicide wouldn't the police have already been here? Would he do that and forever taint the memory of his friends wedding?

The answer to the last question was emphatically no.

Now having decided this, it was time to ask some questions. We left and went back to the lobby and as the manager approaches I begin questioning him.

"Do you know my husband; David Murry?" I ask.

To which he replies, "Ayah."

"Did he give you permission to give me a key?" I ask.

Again he replies, "Ayah."

"When was the last time you saw him?" I ask, frustration becoming evident in my tone.

"Cain't say for showah," he replies.

"Do you know Jimmy Doyle?" I ask anger starting to creep into my voice.

"Ayah."

"Do you know where he is?" I asked forcefully.

"Cain't say for showah, expect he's on his honeymoon though," he answers.

"Augh!" I scream, throwing my hands in the air, "Are you going to give me any straight answers?"

With an evil grin and a hard glint in his eyes, he answers, "Cain't say for showah."

Obviously, finding David was going to be harder than we thought.

*

The lyrics written in this story are from the song "Eye of the storm", by the band Crux Shadows and were written by their lead singer Rogue, and are their sole property. He is without a doubt one of the best song writers I have ever seen. I had the great pleasure of meeting both the members of "Crux Shadows" and "Abney Park" last year in Atlanta, GA. They are both amazing bands and I encourage anyone to listen to their music.

To be continued in Book 3.