Mary's Bones

TWENTY

Sweat ran down my fingertips. I couldn't control my grip. As my hand squeezed the phone tighter, I pressed it closer to my ear.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" The operator's stale voice spiked my anxiety.

I chewed at my bottom lip and frowned. Why hadn't I backed out when I had the chance? There was no way I could disguise my voice. They'd have recognized me in an instant. Well, this was the phone operator I was talking to, not someone directly from the station. Maybe it just might have worked.

"Hello? Are you there?" she persisted.

I swallowed my pride and closed my eyes. "Yes, I'm here. I have a tip that I'd like to lend the police. It's about one of the missing thirteen girl's whereabouts. The little girl named Holly Adams, who went missing on April 1st, 2016," I said.

There was no going back now. It was out there in the open. This was the next best thing I could think of to keep myself out of trouble. If I notified the police as an anonymous caller, I wouldn't have had to risk Rosemary and I's safety, searching for Holly myself.

"What is your name?"

"No names," I refused immediately, "I'd like to remain anonymous. I don't want any of this interfering in my life. And I don't want to be a suspect. Please. But I think I know where she's buried. Her remains are somewhere along one of these two rivers; Clareleche or Sterile Brook."

"Ma'am, how do you know this?"

"I. . ." Shit. I couldn't tell them a spirit told me this. Let alone, the spirit of one of the children. "I just do. There's something really odd in that area that looks like it could belong to a child. Please, check there. It's urgent. I wouldn't have called if it weren't," I said then hung the phone back on the hook, hanging it up.

If I knew any better, they had already started tracking our phone calls. But they wouldn't have been able to trace it back to me. At least, not from this landline. I had purposely called from a landline that wasn't anywhere close to John and I's home.

Shit. That was nerve-wracking. I'd never done anything like that in my life.

My fingertips continued to shiver on their own. I took a few deep breaths, trying to shake the nerves off. Some tea. That's what I needed. A hot cup of steaming peppermint tea usually helped calm me down.

I eyed the deserted streets, the autumn breeze brushing my curls afloat.

I'd expected the streets to be clear. It was pretty late in the day. With the nights getting colder and the days darkening faster, I shouldn't have been out here alone either. The lights from the small corner grocery store lit up the sidewalk across from me, as the sun welcomed the evening sky. I hurried across the street, into the store. The ding of a bell rang through the inside.

Barely a foot into the store, someone greeted me, "Angie! Do my eyes deceive me? Goodness, it's been a while since I've seen you! Your folks are always here," store owner, Hank Briggs, spoke without hesitation.

I matched his smile with my own. "Hey, Hank! I could say the same. My parents never fail to mention it when you ask about me." I chuckled.

"I hope Shifton has been treating you well"—his smile widened—"what are you doing here, today?"

"Gosh, Hank, you know me, I am in desperate need of a large peppermint tea—!" A shout and a door slamming open interrupted me. Hank and I's head whipped around at the altercation.

"You little brat! Haven't your parents ever taught you not to lie!? I saw you put it in your pocket, now give it back. It doesn't belong to you!" A male shouted.