Blair Witch- Crawford Saves Green

He looked at his watch. It was 6:10. Donnie would be up by now--the sun rose so early this time of year. Sharon would be up with him, maybe watching television, maybe playing out on her parents' porch, watching the sunrise--
The sunrise.
It was 6:10. It was August 11. The sun ought to be up already.
He looked up again and saw the pitch-black night sky.
Crawford had never been much of an outdoorsman. Still, he knew one thing for certain: it was not 6:10 in the morning.
Fellowes's words came back to him: "Time is different here, Detective."
...

"Well, you don't have to get all huffy about it." He could just about see her frown. "It's quarter after two."
"Quarter after two? In the morning?"
"Ain't that what I said?"
"On August eleventh?"
"Yes, on August eleventh. Say, is this one of those prank phone calls? Because I know what number you're calling from, and--"
"Thank you, ma'am." Crawford hung up the phone, and sat down on the rock.
It was 2:15 A.M.
He was asleep on the couch, in Cravens's office.
Green was sitting in the anteroom outside, waiting for the fax with Jessica Elder's picture to come in. Sometime in the next few minutes, his wife would enter, and they would start arguing about the gun he'd forgotten to load.
The gun Fellowes had shot him with.
"I would have let you live," Fellowes had said, "but when the killing is so easy . . ."
An image flashed in Crawford's mind: the cell phone in Kristen Green's hand.
...

"Hello?"
"Mrs. Green?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Mrs. Green, this is Randy Crawford calling from the Burkittsville sheriff's office."
"Randy Crawford? I don't know any Randy Crawford."
"Your husband picked me up at the airport this evening?"
"Oh, yes. He did say--oh god--is this about Harris? Is he all right?"
"Your husband is fine, ma'am. He just wanted me to give you a message."
"Oh, thank God. Well, I'm on my way in. I'll see him in a few minutes."
"No, Mrs. Green, that's the message. You don't have to come in." Crawford took a deep breath. "Your husband found another clip for his gun."
"Oh." He could hear the relief in her voice. "Well, I'm halfway there, I might as well keep going. "
"He's out of the station now, Mrs. Green. That's why he had me call."
"Oh. Oh, all right then. Well, I guess I'll just say good-bye, then."
Crawford nodded. "Good-bye."
He hung up.
For a moment, in his mind, he was Green, paralyzed, sitting at the coffee table at Elder's house. He strained, reaching for the gun at his belt . . .
He remembered it held no clip.
He stopped straining and watched helplessly as Fellowes slung a body over his shoulder and disappeared out of the house. And he sat there, just sat there, waiting for the drug to wear off.
Crawford hoped.
Suddenly, he was exhausted. He sat back down on the rock and bowed his head.
The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.
"Hey. Hey, you all right, Detective?"
He opened his eyes. The sun was high in the sky. He raised a hand to ward off the glare.
And there was Deputy Green, standing over him.
"What? What's so funny?"
"Nothing." Crawford got to his feet.
"What the hell happened here?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

- Blair Witch: Graveyard Shift, chapter Eleven