by Amy Cross
“Where's your daughter?” one of the officers asks Father for the hundredth time since they all arrived a few minutes ago. “Mr. Garrett, where's Annie?”
Father doesn't reply. He simply stares at me with a hint of dread in his eyes.
“You have to leave!” I shout at the officers as tears roll down my cheeks. “You have no right to be here! This is private property!”
“We have every right, M'am,” the first officer says, turning to me. “We're investigating reports of a scream out this way last week, and so far you two can't account for the disappearance of your daughter Annie Garrett. Now, we don't have any photos to help us, but we have census records and there should be a girl named Annie Garrett living at this property. This is your last chance to tell us where she is before you're both taken to the station for questioning.”
“I -” Pausing, filled with rage as the officers hold me in the doorway, I realize I can't possibly tell the truth. I turn and watch as more officers continue to search the property. They'll never find Mother's grave, Father buried her body too deep, but still I resent the fact that they're here at all. We're quiet people and we keep to ourselves, and we deserve to be left alone instead of being harassed by a bunch of thugs who'd never be able to understand that we needed to kill Mother.
“Mrs. Garrett?” the officer says after a moment. “Do you have anything to say about Annie?”
I turn to him, and all of a sudden the tears seem to dry in my eyes. “No,” I tell him finally. “I have nothing to say about Annie.”
***
“Where's Annie Garrett?” the officer asks a few hours later, as we sit in an interview room at the police station. “Come on, you have to tell me. I know something happened to her. She's dead, isn't she?”
Staring back at him, I feel nothing but hatred for the fact that this pathetic, pig-like man thinks he has the right to hold me here and ask my questions. I want to reach across the table and wring his neck, but I know that'd only get me into trouble. Far better to let him do his thing until he gets tired, and then he'll have to let Father and I go.
“We found blood-stained clothes,” he continues. “There were two dresses in bags in the basement, and there was more blood down there. We also found some more clothes dumped in the forest near the house.” He waits for an answer. “Someone clearly lost a lot of blood at that property, and since your daughter Annie is missing -”
I let out a brief, impromptu laugh.
“Is something funny?” he asks.
I shake my head, quickly getting myself under control.
“Where's Annie?” he continues.
“I...” Taking a deep breath, I try to think of a way to make him understand. I look over at the door and think of Father, most likely in one of the other interview rooms. I know he won't tell them anything, so I just have to stay strong and we'll be out of here before sundown.
“I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation,” the officer continues. “I can charge both you and your husband with murder, even if we don't find Annie's body. It'll look very bad for you if you go to trial and still don't say anything, there's no way that'll play well with a jury. Folks round here, they don't much like people who murder their children.” He pauses. “I'm sure I don't need to remind you that we have the death penalty in this state, and women have been sent to the chair before.”
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to remain calm.
“You look very good for your age,” he says suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?”
He glances down at some papers. “Says here, Rebecca Garrett is thirty-two years old. I guess all that country living must be real good for the complexion.”
“I don't see that my complexion is any of your business,” I tell him.
“And your daughter Annie is sixteen,” he continues, looking at me for a moment with just the faintest hint of suspicion. For a few seconds, it's almost as if he might suspect the truth. “Where is Annie, Mrs. Garrett? If your husband killed her, you can -”
“My husband didn't kill her,” I snap back at him. “That's a preposterous idea, he loves her. He loves Annie more than any of you men could ever understand, and in a way that you couldn't understand.”
“Is that so?”
“Most assuredly. He loves Annie purely, and wholly, and in a way that will never be broken.” Feeling a surge of strength, I realize that this pathetic police officer can never break me. “He loves Annie with all of his heart,” I continue, on the verge of tears, “and she loves him back from the very depths of her soul. Please, you can't possibly hope to understand such a powerful love. You must simply accept that it's true, and move on from your investigation. There is nothing for you to do here, nothing you can -”
“Mrs. Garrett -”
“You're meddling,” I continue, unable to hold my anger back for a moment longer. “You don't understand love, not real love, not the true love that exists between my -” I catch myself just in time, before I admit the truth. “Do what you want,” I add, trying once again to stay calm, “but you'll be fumbling about in the dark because I absolutely promise you, you're dealing with a type of love that is beyond your comprehension. You might as well ask me the rest of your questions in a foreign language, for all the good they'll do you. The last thing I'm willing to say, is that Annie Garrett is not dead. She's alive and well and happy, and no, I won't help you to find her. You never will.” I pause. “You couldn't find her,” I add finally, with a faint smile, “even if she was right in front of you.”
He stares at me for a moment, clearly shocked, before clearing his throat.
“Until I see Annie with my own eyes,” he says finally, “I can't take your word for any of that. And if I don't see her with my own eyes, then there's a very, very strong chance that you and your husband will be charged with her murder, and convicted of her murder, and sentenced to death for her murder. And that sentence will be carried out by means of either lethal injection or the electric chair.” He pauses, staring at me. “Now, I don't want to see that happen, so I'll ask you again, Mrs. Garrett, and I sincerely hope you'll answer me this time. Where is Annie?”
I stare back at him. There's no point saying anything else. He'll never understand. Besides, he claims to be searching for Annie, yet I'm sitting right here in front of him. The man is clearly an imbecile.
“Alright, then,” he mutters, getting to his feet. “I think I'm just going to go talk to my colleagues for a moment.”
Left alone in the room, I sit completely still and stare at the opposite wall. I'm sure the police officers are feverishly discussing this case out in the corridor, but they'll never get to the truth because they'll never understand the kind of love Father and I have for one another. They won't find Mother's body, either. For the rest of it all, let them do what they want. They'll never understand the truth, and they'll never change any of it. I would rather die than do anything to jeopardize what I have with Father, and I'm certain he feels the same.
I'll stay quiet now. Father will be so proud of me.
Nineteen
Today
“Hey!” I shout, louder than before. “Can someone please come and tell me what the hell is going on?”
I wait, sitting up in bed, propped against the wall. It's around eight or nine in the morning and sunlight is streaming through the window. After a restless night that brought little sleep, I feel exhausted but edgy, and I'm starting to wonder just when someone is going to come up and see me. Mom would usually have come by now, just to check on me, but there's been no sign of her. In fact, despite a few bumps during the night, the house has been suspiciously quiet since Dad left me in here a little over twelve hours ago. The door has remained shut and I don't hear anyone moving about downstairs. I'm not going to panic, not yet, but still...
“Dad!” I shout. “Mom! Can one of you guys come up?”
I wait.
“Please?”
Silence.
I stare at th
e door, waiting in vain for some hint of movement out there. It's Tuesday today, and Mom at least is usually up around dawn since we arrived in the new house. Sure, it's possible that they've all decided to sleep in, but they must be able to hear me calling out to them and Scott, at least, should have come to tell me I need to be quiet. Leaning across the bed, I glance out the window, but the car is still down in the driveway. I guess they might have all gone out very early, maybe to explore the forest, but it's odd that they didn't let me know first. Maybe I was asleep, but I can't shake the feeling, deep down, that something might be wrong.
“This isn't funny,” I mutter, leaning back and forcing myself to stay calm. “What am I supposed to do, just sit in my room forever?”
***
Looking up from my book, I glance at the door as I realize I just heard a very faint creaking sound out there.
“Hello?” I say cautiously.
No reply.
“Dad?”
I wait.
“If this is some kind of punishment,” I continue, “it's completely lame. You realize that, right?”
Silence.
It's midday and I've spent the morning reading. I ate last night's dinner for breakfast, which was cold and unpleasant, but I've managed to quell my sense of panic by telling myself that Mom and Dad must have taken Scott out to explore the land surrounding the house. They sort of, kind of mentioned doing something like that a few times, and although I'm a little annoyed that they'd leave me here alone like this, I figure I must have been asleep when they set off, and they probably didn't want to wake me. Maybe Mom persuaded Dad to go out with her so they could try to clear the air.
I mean, that's the only possible explanation.
I wait a moment longer, in case there's another sound from the landing, but after a few seconds I start to realize that the house is completely quiet. We're so far from civilization, there's not even any kind of sound outside, just the occasional cry of a bird. I lean over and look outside again, hoping to -
Suddenly I see her.
It's the woman from before, wearing a white dress and with her back to me, and she's standing more or less where I saw her the first time.
I watch her for a moment, before reaching out and tapping on the window.
No reply.
With a little pain, I pull myself across the bed until I'm closer to the window, and then I tap on the glass again.
“Hey!” I shout, hoping she'll be able to hear me.
She doesn't react at all.
Setting my book aside, I reach across the bedside table and start fumbling with the latch. It's not easy, but finally I get the damn thing open and I start to slide the window up. A cold breeze enters the room, causing me to shiver a little, and I watch the woman for a moment, feeling as if maybe I shouldn't disturb her. Then again, she's on my family's property and as far as I can tell, she has no permission to be anywhere near the house. I hesitate for a moment, before figuring that I should at least try to get her attention.
“Hey!” I call out. “Are you okay there? Do you want something?”
I wait, but still she doesn't respond at all. This time, with the window open, I know she must be able to hear me. The cool breeze is rippling her dress, and the distant trees are swaying slightly, but the woman herself seems lost in her own thoughts.
“Can I help you?” I shout, before banging my fist on the window-ledge in an attempt to get her attention. “Hey! You there, can you -”
Suddenly she turns to me, and I freeze as I see the pained look on her face. I was expecting someone young, and in the back of my mind I was even wondering if she might be Annie Garrett, but it's immediately clear that this is an older woman, in her thirties at least. She's still a good fifteen meters away, but when I squint I can just about make out her features, and her eyes in particular are striking, with dark, heavy-looking rings. The way she's staring at me, it's as if there's great sorrow in her soul, but also a hint of anger.
And then she turns, and then she starts slowly walking toward the house.
Step by step, she comes closer, making for the porch.
“Hey!” I call out. “What do you want?”
She doesn't reply. Her gaze is fixed on the house now, on the door that's directly below my room, leading into the kitchen.
“Maybe you can come back later,” I tell her, bristling a little as I realize that she's already halfway across the lawn now. “My parents will be back soon.”
She doesn't look up at me. She just keeps walking until she reaches the steps that lead up onto the porch.
“Hey! Stop!”
Craning my neck, I look down and see her disappear from view beneath the porch's wooden roof. I wait for her to knock on the door, but as the seconds pass I realize that I can't hear her at all and the sound of her footsteps has stopped. I keep telling myself that it's okay, that I definitely didn't hear the back door opening; at the same time, I can't shake the fear that maybe the door was already open, and that the woman has silently entered the house.
“Hello?” I call out.
I wait.
No reply.
“Are you down there?” I wait again. “You can't come in, you'll have to wait 'til someone's around. Sorry, I'm -”
Hearing a bump, I turn and look toward my closed bedroom door. The sound was so brief and so weak, I can't even be sure it was really there.
I hold my breath.
Silence.
I want to call out again, but at the same time I don't want to draw any more attention to myself. Turning, I look back out the window, but the lawn is bare now. Glancing toward the trees, I realize that my family are probably out there somewhere, having a great time and just assuming I'm fine here alone. I look down at the porch's roof and try to imagine the woman still standing there; after all, I'd have seen her if she'd left, and I refuse to believe that she came into the house, so she must be on the porch still.
Maybe she's waiting.
For what?
“Hello?” I call out again, my voice faltering slightly. “Can you... If you're there, can you say something?”
No reply.
The only sound comes from the wind as it ruffles the distant trees.
Leaning back, I sit in silence for a few minutes, desperately alert in case there's any hint of movement in the house. I keep expecting to hear a creaking sound or a bump, but gradually I start to relax just a little. I try to run through the possibilities, and more than anything I want to start believing that the woman wasn't really there, or that she managed to slip away and now she's long gone. After all, I don't really know what the porch is like, so I guess there could be a way for her to have left without being seen. Staring at my door, however, I start imagining the possibility that she's downstairs now, or that she's coming up.
I wait.
“Mom!” I call out. “Dad! Scott! If one of you is here, now would be a really good time to drop in and check on me, okay?”
Silence.
“Guys?”
No answer.
Although I want to go back to reading my book, I can't stop staring at the door. It's a long-shot, but if that woman came into the house, I have to be ready for her. I mean, for all I know, she might be some kind of escaped lunatic from a nearby asylum, or a crazy neighbor who has no idea about personal boundaries. My heart is pounding but I tell myself that I'm overreacting, that there's a rational explanation even though I can't figure it out just yet. After all, stuck here in my room with no real idea of the house's layout, I don't have the best perspective, so I figure I just have to be patient.
All the while, the silent house seems to be closing in around me.
***
I flick the switch and my bedside light blinks to life. Well, at least there's still power.
It's getting dark outside now. All afternoon, I've tried to read my book while spending long stretches just staring at the door. The last thing I want to do is start panicking, and besides, it's not like I can get up and
start looking around. I've managed to convince myself that my initial assessment must be true: Mom, Dad and Scott went out to spend the day exploring our new surroundings, and they'll be home for dinner. Hell, they might even have found somewhere to hang out and enjoy a picnic. I mean, I'd be mad at them for leaving me alone like this, but I'd also be very, very relieved to see them coming home.
Turning to look out the window, I see that the dark forest looks darker now, while the cold evening sky is folding blue as night starts to fall. For a moment, I think I can see a figure out there, hiding between the trees, but it's gone when I blink. Must have been a trick of the light.
I check my watch and see that it's a little after 6pm. The others should be home soon. They have to be home soon.
They wouldn't just leave me alone all day without any food.
Picking up the book, I try once again to distract myself by reading, but again my gaze shifts to the bedroom door. There are no lights on the landing, so this time all I see under the door is a line of darkness. It has been five or six hours since I saw the woman on the lawn, but mercifully there's been no hint that she's inside the house, not even so much as an unexplained creaking sound. I haven't seen her leave, either, but I guess I don't really know what the house is like on the outside, so she probably just slipped away without being noticed.
I'll laugh about all of this tomorrow. That's what I keep telling myself.
After reading the same paragraph over and over again, and still not taking any of it in, I set the book down and wait for a moment.
I start counting.
One.
Two.
Damn it, I can't take this anymore.
“Hey!” I shout, just in case the others got home and I didn't hear them. “Is someone going to actually come up here?”