Mayor Katherine Peterson raced in her red Ford Mustang convertible, west down Draper Street through empty twilit streets. The car slowed and rolled through the intersection of Draper and Marion. She was in one hell of a hurry and counting on the police being too busy elsewhere to be concerned with some mild Hollywood stopping. She continued west, slowing when she got to California Street where she made a hard left. Tires squealed as the driver gunned the accelerator half-way through the maneuver. It picked up a high rate of speed and slowed one last time as it prepared to turn left again into the Kingsburg Police Department parking lot.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed as she was forced to go around a Volkswagen beetle that appeared to have been abandoned at the mouth of the parking lot. She took the turn slowly, peeking around the car to make sure that in fact no one was kneeling beside the car, changing a tire or something. When she was convinced that the car was without an owner, she continued on her way. The driver did not waste time looking for a parking spot, but simply pulled up behind a patrol unit that had been parked at the sidewalk near the front entrance.
Something loud gave her a start as she jumped out of the vehicle.
Crash.
It sounded as if some heavy construction was taking place, but she knew that that could not be the case. A week before the Swedish Festival, all of the projects, both large and small, had already been completed.
However, there it was once again as she hurriedly made her way to the door. Crash. Crash. Crash.
The sound was coming from inside the darkened police station. She quickly grabbed the front door by the handle and swung it open. Crash.
“What the hell is going on in here?” the mayor yelled as she stepped over the threshold and into exactly that: Hell.