It’s Wednesday night, and I have less than two days on whether to press charges on my nephew. All day yesterday, I tried not to think about everything that had happened in just the last week – scratch that – the last two months since I’ve known about the plan to kill and dump Troy’s body. Officer Lopez had to conduct police business but ensured another police officer patrolled the area. I tried keeping myself busy by cleaning the house and doing more light gardening. The roses needed pruning, and I pulled some weeds before my back screamed at me to stop.
It's now around 10:00 pm, and hope it’s not too late, but I have to text Patrice. I should have done it yesterday, but I also didn’t want to seem like a pest since she has no clue who I am; who knows, she may think I’m the killer messing around. I pick up my phone and punch in, asking if she’s ready for another riddle. Since I haven't heard from her in a while, I want to ensure she will respond; however, I get back a message I wasn’t expecting, and now I fear I’m making her mad.
I quickly text to assure her I’m not someone to fear but that I can’t divulge my identity for fear of my family being targeted and that if she blocks me, she will never know the truth. I decide to wait to send her the riddle about the ring. She may need some time to cool off. But someone has to find it before my nephew or Colton – the one who lost it. It’s the only way justice can be served.
Before I know it, it’s Thursday morning, and I have one day to decide about my nephew. I’m woken by my phone buzzing on the nightstand. I glance at the clock – 6:45. My brain goes on overdrive, wondering if there’s an emergency. Are the kids and grandkids OK? I turn on my lamp and find my glasses. There is a hint of dawn I can see through the closed shades. The days are getting shorter.
I pick up my phone and see a message from an unknown number.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID
I toss the phone on my bed as if it were on fire and grab the blankets, holding them close. Is this the person who hired my nephew to kill Troy? And then I think about what Chief Errington said about pressing charges against my nephew. If I do, who says he won’t contact his thugs to come for me? But if I don’t, who knows what he will do or try to do to me?
There is no win. I have to decide, and I have 24 hours to do it, and I have to message Patrice about the ring, so I punch in the riddle. I quickly get a text message with the right answer, so I punch in “very good,” but what I got back wasn’t what I expected. No, she’s not a child. I start to second-guess telling her at all about anything. I quickly punch in that she’s not a child, but if she finds the ring, she finds the killer. But it wasn’t Colton who killed Troy; it was my nephew. Still, if she can find the ring before he does, it may lead to the police unraveling everything.
I get up and pace the floor. Should I confide in Officer Lopez about my fears? What will she say? Will she keep my secret or go straight to the Chief? No, I can’t do that.
I get up, go into the bathroom, and splash cold water on my face. It helps, but only a little. I put on my robe and slippers and go downstairs. It’s quiet. I see Officer Lopez lying on the crème-colored microfiber couch in the living room. She’s on her side with a blanket over her. I don’t want to wake her, so I go into the kitchen and get some water. I’m not hungry and don’t dare go outside without protection, so I sit in the living room chair and turn on the TV very low.
About halfway through watching one of my favorite classics, Gone With the Wind, I hear Officer Lopez stirring. I pause the movie and turn to her. She yawns and rubs her eyes.
“Good morning,” I say, getting up. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you. What time is it?”
I check my phone. “It’s almost 8:30.”
“That late?” She pops up and grabs her phone. “Oh shit, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Chief. I can’t leave you here, though.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I will lock all the doors, and it’s not like I can’t pick up the phone and call if needed.” Even though I’m petrified of being alone, I also don’t want to go back to the station and sit and wait. I need to really think about what to do. Oh, Willis, I wish you were here.
“Are you sure? I won’t be gone too long. And before I go, I will check around the property and ensure nothing looks strange or no car is parked somewhere.” She runs her fingers through her hair and then grabs her bag. She pulls out another police uniform, a brush, toothbrush and paste, and a tube of lip gloss and rushes to the bathroom. Five minutes later, she comes back out looking put together.
“Do you want some coffee or something before you leave?” I ask, starting to walk to the kitchen.
“Oh no, don’t worry about me. I’ll run through McDonald’s and grab a few cups for me and the Chief – always do it.”
“Okay.” She takes out her holster, straps it to her waist, and places her gun in a large slot on the side. I have no idea about guns, so I can’t tell what type of gun it is. I do feel safer knowing she has it, in any case. She opens the front door, and I follow, just peeking my head outside.
“Stay in,” she puts a protective hand to stop me. “I don’t want anyone to know someone is here alone.”
I obey and back up. She shuts the door, and I immediately rush into the small room known as the foyer, but the "welcome room,” according to my mother. I flip one of the blinds open and look out. The street looks empty; by now, the sun is peering down on the world. I look right and left and see nobody and then see Officer Lopez go out to the sidewalk and glance to her left and right. She turns and heads next door, and I lose sight of her. I hear the engine turn on a few minutes later, and she leaves.
I’m all alone.
I walk back into the kitchen and get breakfast, listening for any noise. All my senses are heightened, and I have to take some deep breaths. All the doors are locked. I’m safe.
I go back and sit on the couch and push play on the TV. I am not going to let my fear keep me frozen. I finally have the freedom to enjoy the home I’ve lived in for 40 years. It’s a two-story home built in the 60s; with four bedrooms, two baths, a living, family, dining room, a spacious kitchen, and a sliding back door out into the patio. All the bedrooms were upstairs, and while the boys were growing up, I had one extra room I used for all my sewing and crafts.
I used to wallpaper the rooms depending on my mood. Now, the wallpaper is gone, and before Willis passed, we repainted the kitchen a pastel yellow with a few forest scenery accent portraits. The living and family rooms and bathrooms were painted off-white with burgundy trim, and the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms were all slate blue. I found some antique portraits of Paris and hung them in our room, reminding us of our honeymoon in 1970. We were going to go back for our 50th anniversary three years ago, but Willis passed the year before. I remember how he loved the woodshop that he built adjacent to our garage. He would build all types of things: cabinets, tables, lamps, desks, and more. That was his man cave, he called it, a place he could relax and do what he loved.
I often curse at him that he left me alone.
Once the movie ends, I glance at my phone’s clock and realize Officer Lopez has been gone for nearly two hours. That’s a long meeting. I wonder what’s going on, but then I’m sure it’s none of my business.
My phone buzzes, and I jump, too afraid to look.
SORRY – MEETING JUST ENDED, HUNGRY?
I take a deep breath; thank God it was just Officer Lopez. It is nearly noon, and I am hungry, so I text back.
YES
BURGER AND FRIES SOUND GOOD?
OF COURSE. I don’t get to eat hamburgers or fries, so getting them twice in just a few days is Heaven.
I hear her pull up about 10 minutes later. She opens the door, balancing two bags, two drinks, and her bag slung over her shoulder. I hurry to help, taking the drinks before she spills them. We go into the kitchen, and she gives me a bag, and I give her a drink. I asked for a Coke since I hadn’t had one in over a year. I slurp the zingy goodness, and it slides down my throat. Ahhh … the taste reminds me of a young mom when I drank Coke every day to make it through, with two rough and tumble boys you had to.
I eat my burger and most of my fries, and a little while later, I feel the food coma come on, so I tell Officer Lopez I’m going to take a short nap. I can’t sleep for longer than 40 or so minutes, or I wake up groggy and can’t sleep well at night.
“Go ahead. I have some paperwork to get done,” she says, opening her laptop.
I head up the stairs and, out of habit, peer into my nephew’s room.
I freeze. My eyes grow big, and I can’t stop myself. I scream.
The window is wide open, and a man wearing a ski mask and dark clothing is climbing through it. His dark eyes meet mine.
He comes toward me.
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