Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 40
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
I fumbled with the locks and turned the knob just as Joe burst through, half-naked. He stood in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
“Are you okay? I heard you screaming and when I got outside, I saw someone running from your house. I tackled him, but he knocked me off and got away.”
In the dim light of the streetlamp pouring through the window, I saw multiple scrapes covering his head and back.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to settle down. “I heard someone breaking in and found them halfway in the window, so I beat them with a broom ’ til they fell out.”
“Why would you do that? Why didn’t you run away?”
I hadn’t stopped long enough to reason it out. Joe was right. I should have run away, or at least called the police. More than likely, the person climbing through my window meant to kill me. I began to shake and collapsed in the kitchen chair next to me. I sucked in gasps of air as everything got fuzzy, now an all too familiar feeling; I was gonna pass out.
Joe figured it out as I did, kneeling beside me as he pushed my head between my knees. “You’re all right. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
The feeling subsided and I sat up, still shaking with fear.
“Can you call the police now?” Joe asked.
His question caught me off guard. “You didn’t call them already?”
The contours of his face hardened. “No, I can’t. You have to do it.”
“Why?”
“I’ll stay here until you call the police and then I’m goin’ back home. Don't tell them I came over and don't tell them I chased off the person who broke in. Just tell them you beat them with the broom and they ran off.”
“But why? Maybe you can tell them somethin’ about the person.”
Joe stood up and reached for the phone. “It’s dead. You’re gonna have to use your cell phone. Where it is?”
“In my purse…”
Joe grabbed the phone out of my bag, which still lay on the kitchen table. “I can’t explain, Rose, just trust me. They can’t know I was here. Can you dial 911 or do you want me to do it?”
I snatched the phone out of his hand, suddenly angry. “I can do it. If you're gonna go, just go already. I don’t need you, Joe McAllister. I fought the person sneakin’ into my house off all on my own. I surely don’t need you to press a couple of buttons on the phone.”
Joe hesitated, then pulled me into his arms and kissed me, making me forget that I had to make a phone call at all. He leaned back and caressed my cheek. “Thank God, you’re all right.” He gave me a smile, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I love your nightgown.”
Then he turned around and walked out the door.
Chapter Eleven
I waited for the police to arrive, alternating between anger and fear. What if I hadn’t woken up? What was up with Joe? Did Daniel Crocker have anything to do with this? It seemed an incredible coincidence that he saw me in the DMV in the afternoon and that night someone broke in. But when the police took my statement, I knew I couldn't tell them anything about him. What would I say? “You see, officer, it all started when I had a vision of myself dead…” They’d just haul me away to the funny farm, although I wondered if it might be the safest place for me at the moment.
The police went out back and did all their investigating, whatever that entailed. I hoped at the very least the incident would take their suspicion off me for Momma’s murder, but when I asked they wouldn’t tell me anything. They were there for hours while I sat on the chair in the living room, dozing off and on in my exhaustion. When they left around four in the morning, I struggled with what to do. I was too scared to sleep alone in my house. I didn’t want to call Violet and wake her just so I could get a couple of hours of sleep. Instead, I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, which I realized I couldn’t do without electricity. I looked over at Joe’s house.
Why couldn't I tell the police he’d been there?
A niggling of worry slipped into my mind. What if Joe had something to do with it? I really didn't know much about him. Could it be possible? I dismissed the thought, burning with shame. Joe had been there for me when I needed him. He’d never done anything to make me think badly of him. Well, other than tricking me about his girlfriend. But that hardly made him a suspect in Momma’s murder and the break-in. Sure, I found it odd he didn’t want any involvement with the police, but plenty of people didn't like police. It didn’t mean anything.
Yet, I couldn’t completely let it go.
I got ready for work and took the fastest shower in my life, peeking around the curtain to see if someone had crept back into the house, waiting to attack. I wondered how I got into this situation in the first place. Why would anyone want to kill me? I wasn’t a threat to anyone and I’d never even seen Daniel Crocker before that Friday at the DMV.
I left for work much earlier than necessary. Joe’s car still sat in his driveway. I hurried in case he decided to come out and talk to me. I didn't feel like seeing Joe McAllister. I was tired and cranky and worried if he confronted me I might actually hit him.
Arriving at work over an hour early, the DMV parking lot looked barren. I laid against the headrest to close my eyes, for just a moment, and dozed off. Loud banging vibrated my side window. Startled, I jerked upright and found Betty standing next to my car. I rolled down the glass.
“Are you okay? I heard you screaming and when I got outside, I saw someone running from your house. I tackled him, but he knocked me off and got away.”
In the dim light of the streetlamp pouring through the window, I saw multiple scrapes covering his head and back.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to settle down. “I heard someone breaking in and found them halfway in the window, so I beat them with a broom ’ til they fell out.”
“Why would you do that? Why didn’t you run away?”
I hadn’t stopped long enough to reason it out. Joe was right. I should have run away, or at least called the police. More than likely, the person climbing through my window meant to kill me. I began to shake and collapsed in the kitchen chair next to me. I sucked in gasps of air as everything got fuzzy, now an all too familiar feeling; I was gonna pass out.
Joe figured it out as I did, kneeling beside me as he pushed my head between my knees. “You’re all right. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
The feeling subsided and I sat up, still shaking with fear.
“Can you call the police now?” Joe asked.
His question caught me off guard. “You didn’t call them already?”
The contours of his face hardened. “No, I can’t. You have to do it.”
“Why?”
“I’ll stay here until you call the police and then I’m goin’ back home. Don't tell them I came over and don't tell them I chased off the person who broke in. Just tell them you beat them with the broom and they ran off.”
“But why? Maybe you can tell them somethin’ about the person.”
Joe stood up and reached for the phone. “It’s dead. You’re gonna have to use your cell phone. Where it is?”
“In my purse…”
Joe grabbed the phone out of my bag, which still lay on the kitchen table. “I can’t explain, Rose, just trust me. They can’t know I was here. Can you dial 911 or do you want me to do it?”
I snatched the phone out of his hand, suddenly angry. “I can do it. If you're gonna go, just go already. I don’t need you, Joe McAllister. I fought the person sneakin’ into my house off all on my own. I surely don’t need you to press a couple of buttons on the phone.”
Joe hesitated, then pulled me into his arms and kissed me, making me forget that I had to make a phone call at all. He leaned back and caressed my cheek. “Thank God, you’re all right.” He gave me a smile, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I love your nightgown.”
Then he turned around and walked out the door.
Chapter Eleven
I waited for the police to arrive, alternating between anger and fear. What if I hadn’t woken up? What was up with Joe? Did Daniel Crocker have anything to do with this? It seemed an incredible coincidence that he saw me in the DMV in the afternoon and that night someone broke in. But when the police took my statement, I knew I couldn't tell them anything about him. What would I say? “You see, officer, it all started when I had a vision of myself dead…” They’d just haul me away to the funny farm, although I wondered if it might be the safest place for me at the moment.
The police went out back and did all their investigating, whatever that entailed. I hoped at the very least the incident would take their suspicion off me for Momma’s murder, but when I asked they wouldn’t tell me anything. They were there for hours while I sat on the chair in the living room, dozing off and on in my exhaustion. When they left around four in the morning, I struggled with what to do. I was too scared to sleep alone in my house. I didn’t want to call Violet and wake her just so I could get a couple of hours of sleep. Instead, I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, which I realized I couldn’t do without electricity. I looked over at Joe’s house.
Why couldn't I tell the police he’d been there?
A niggling of worry slipped into my mind. What if Joe had something to do with it? I really didn't know much about him. Could it be possible? I dismissed the thought, burning with shame. Joe had been there for me when I needed him. He’d never done anything to make me think badly of him. Well, other than tricking me about his girlfriend. But that hardly made him a suspect in Momma’s murder and the break-in. Sure, I found it odd he didn’t want any involvement with the police, but plenty of people didn't like police. It didn’t mean anything.
Yet, I couldn’t completely let it go.
I got ready for work and took the fastest shower in my life, peeking around the curtain to see if someone had crept back into the house, waiting to attack. I wondered how I got into this situation in the first place. Why would anyone want to kill me? I wasn’t a threat to anyone and I’d never even seen Daniel Crocker before that Friday at the DMV.
I left for work much earlier than necessary. Joe’s car still sat in his driveway. I hurried in case he decided to come out and talk to me. I didn't feel like seeing Joe McAllister. I was tired and cranky and worried if he confronted me I might actually hit him.
Arriving at work over an hour early, the DMV parking lot looked barren. I laid against the headrest to close my eyes, for just a moment, and dozed off. Loud banging vibrated my side window. Startled, I jerked upright and found Betty standing next to my car. I rolled down the glass.
