My Sweet Annie

11

A knock at the door jolted me out of my drowse, shock flooding down my back again. All of this adrenaline was going to give me a hangover.

When I opened the door, the two police officers who had responded to my distress call were standing on Gran's porch. "Did you find anything?" I asked.

They both shook their heads. The shorter of the two, whose name badge read O. SANCHEZ, thumbed over his shoulder in the general direction of the woods. "Best we can guess is it was an animal. Coulda been a bob cat or a cougar. Maybe even a fox," he said. "It's a little late for breeding season, but I've heard of crazier things."

Although I had been afraid, I felt a painful pang of embarrassment at that—at the notion of wasting these officers' time. "It really sounded like—"

"You'd think it really was somebody getting hurt," Officer Sanchez said, smiling at me. "They say a bobcat screaming will scare all the hairs off your arm. And foxes—I only ever heard a fox scream once. I was visiting my mom up in Minnesota. Hand to God, I thought about calling the police. Then I remembered I am the police."

We laughed. The other officer, Officer Whitehead, was a tall woman with her hair in a French braid. She didn't seem annoyed at having been called out into the country for nothing. "You did the right thing, calling," she said. "But we've walked the property and partway into the tree line and we've seen nothing suspicious. If there were any reason to suspect something was going on, we'd be concerned, but the simplest explanation is usually the one to go with."

"Right. An animal playing a prank on me." I smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry you had to come out here to provide counseling to a freaked out city girl."

"Don't be sorry. It's still a good idea to keep your doors locked and keep your phone on you, but I would recommend that anyway, no matter who or where you are."

"Are you going to be okay?" Officer Sanchez asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm good. Thank you."

"We're just here to help," said Officer Whitehead. "Have a good night, ma'am."

"You too. Thank you."

They headed back to their patrol car, and I stood in the doorway, watching them until they had gotten into their car. Then I closed and locked the front door, trying to shake off the eerie awareness of being out here all alone and the echo of that awful, animal scream.

I headed upstairs. It took Porkie a few minutes to make it up after me on her stubby legs, but she seemed cheerful as she trotted after me down the hallway to the room where I had already spent a couple of nights.

I flicked the light on but stopped before going to my dresser for a pair of pajamas, glancing at my phone. I knew I was being crazy, but...

ME: Hey, I know it's late, just wanted to say it was good to meet you today.

It was better than Hey, I know it's late, but I just wanted to check in to make sure you haven't been murdered in my back yard.

As I waited for a response, standing next to my dresser, dread began to creep in again, and uncertainty, and fear. The police had been out to check the grounds, but they could not possibly have done a thorough search in a matter of forty five minutes. It was dark, and they couldn't have gone far enough into the woods to be truly certain that Anabel wasn't out there, hurt or worse.

Now they'd come and gone, and if I called them again, they'd write me off as a crazy woman who was rattled from living alone.

I forced myself into motion. I was being crazy. I pulled out a pair of pajamas and changed, and then I realized I had not brushed my teeth, which meant a trek back downstairs to the one bathroom in the big old house.