Observing Halloween at work is twice as tricky when you work remotely, and this year we didn't even have a team meeting where we could briefly parade our costume on camera for a bit. But instead, they asked for folks to submit pictures of their costumes or decorations or kids or pets dressed up, and also asked folks to share scary stories.
After a decade-and-a-half of weekly blogging, it is probably obvious I like to write, so I figured I would submit something...but what?
While thinking about things that scare me, personally, I recalled the time ten years back when Glory called me as I drove to pick up Fenya from choir, terrified that there was an intruder in the house. People had commented to me about just how apprehensive my relating the episode on my blog back then had made them feel, and I thought,"well, what if I started with that...and then changed everything else to make it as scary as possible?"
I guess it worked, as my story got the most votes and won the contest, so here it is; let me know what you think!
THE CALL
I’m not supposed to have my personal phone on in the prowl
car, but when my own home number appeared on the call display, I pulled over
and took the call. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry…” a little girl’s voice – my little girl, who
turned eight last week.
“Hi Bethany, what’s wrong sweetie?” I put the phone on
speaker and pulled back into traffic, being careful to keep the annoyance and
tension out of my voice. “Is Daddy not there yet? He was just picking up
supper.”
“No, not yet.” I
noticed now that her normally breathy voice was even lower than usual, barely a
whisper. It was just starting to rain and turned up the volume to compensate
for the drops hitting the roof; hear breathing sounded ragged, like she was
upset.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” I prompted again.
A long pause while I felt sweat condensing on my upper lip,
and then a terse whisper, “I’m scared…I thought I heard something upstairs.”
Probably an overactive imagination – but why was I still
uneasy? I had locked the door before I left, so I knew there was no real chance
someone was in our home.
And yet…
“I don’t think that is too likely baby girl,” I said
confidently, “but do you want me to come home?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Should I come home Bethany? Would you feel better if I
did?”
Another whisper, almost a sob of relief, “Yes, please.”
I threw on my signal and pulled a quick U-turn while
calculating routes in my head. “Okay sweetheart, I am on my way. I will be home
in…six minutes, okay?”
“Okay mommy.”
An unpleasant realization sprang into my mind, and I cursed
under my breath. “Now, I am on my way back, but I have to let work know I am
going to be late, okay?”
“Okay,” but not really, that tone of resignation in her
voice, pushing the guilt button in my brain that was already worn smooth from
having to leave her alone in the house for 30 minutes until her father got
back.
“Do you want me to call you back?”
The quietest whisper, barely audible: “Yes, please.”
“Okay, I will call you back as soon as I can, okay?
Promise,” and hung up. I called dispatch and told them I was going 10-7 for 20
minutes, hoping it wouldn’t get logged, knowing it would be, and began going
through an unpleasant interaction with my sergeant later tonight in my head.
The rain was intensifying a bit but traffic around the arena
would be ridiculous by now, so I took a left onto the thoroughfare to get a bit
of breathing room and depressed the accelerator while asking my phone to call
home.
By the third ring I had a knot in my stomach. Why did I
think it would be okay to leave her on her own, even for half an hour? What if
there actually was someone in the house and she picked up mid-ring? That would
be a dead giveaway someone was home. But before I could even chide myself for
that thinking, Bethany picked up, but I could barely hear her hesitant “Hello?”
“Hey sweetie, it’s me – where are you?”
“I’m in the basement, underneath the couch. Mommy, I’m
scared…”
A sharp pain in my chest. “Why are you scared, honey, what
did you hear?”
My tension matched hers as she tersely whispered into the
phone, “I saw something out by the back fence before I came downstairs, like a
big dog but with weird long legs, and then I heard a thump.”
Picking up speed now, I tried to lighten the mood, “I
haven’t given any spare keys to any dogs, honey, so I don’t think one will get
in.”
Silence.
I pressed on. “You think it’s a monster, don’t you?”
Her whispered yes sounded like the hiss of a snake, as if
fear was keeping her teeth from parting. She had feared the woods behind our
house, where the lot backed onto a ravine, ever since we’d moved in last year.
“Bethany, sugar, we’ve talked about this…everyone has bad
dreams, and I know you see terrible creatures in yours, but you and I know they
aren’t real, right?”
I looked up and saw city workers dragging orange sawhorses
onto the thoroughfare up ahead. I threw on the lights and siren and flew over
to an offramp I was far too close to, as other drivers braked to accommodate my
maneuver as a curse slipped through my lips. A choked sob escaped through the
phone’s speaker. “I know mommy, I’m sorry, but I saw it and it looked like last
night and I got scared…”
I grimaced and shook my head, “I’m not mad at you baby, just
traffic, but I am nearly home. And going to the basement was smart, that is a
good place to hide.” I pulled onto an arterial road while a thought occurred to
me. “Hey, what’s Scraps doing right now?”
A pause. “I don’t know. I don’t hear her…”
“And would she be quiet if someone was in the house?”
“No, she’d bark her head off…” Was that a trace of
confidence entering her voice.
“Well, there you go,” I said assuredly. “I am almost home,
honey. I have the siren and lights on and I am going really fast, can you hear
me yet?”
“No,” she replied, “but it is really quiet under the couch.”
I could hear her grunting as she wriggled out from underneath.
“How about now?” I asked, pulling past a van taking its
sweet time to pull over.
She was still whispering, but her voice was less shaky than
it had been. “Not yet…when you get here, can you yell ‘I’m home’ really loud so
I know you’re here?”
In spite of the accumulated tension, I chuckled. “Of course
I can, darling.” I reached down to turn off the siren and lights. “No more
sirens now, I don’t want to upset Mrs. Kapour again.” Peering against the glare
of the streetlights reflected in the raindrops on my windshield, I said, “I can
almost see the house from here and –“
“Mommy, Scraps is sick…”
I immediately became acutely aware of every hair on my body.
“What?” I replied dumbly.
“She’s lying at the bottom of the stairs and she isn’t mov-“
her voice cut off, the line silent.
“Hello? Hello? Bethany? Bethany!” I shouted at the phone.
Despite being less than a block away, I floored the accelerator and came
screeching to a halt directly in front of a suburban split-level. I raced out
of the prowl car and vaulted the gate in the short iron fence, sprinting up the
front steps, barely noticing the porchlight didn’t come on despite the motion
sensor in it.
The front door was locked, and I had to suppress the urge to
kick in my own door. Fumbling through my keys, I finally got the deadbolt
unlatched and flung open the door. Stepping into the darkened house, I shouted,
“Bethany, I’m home!” like I’d promised.
But there was no reply.
I unsnapped my holster and drew my service weapon, reaching
behind me for the lights. I found the switch but throwing it didn’t illuminate
the entryway.
I pulled the Maglite from my belt, switched it on and
steadied my pistol over it. Moving through the living room to the kitchen, I
shouted again, “This is the police – anyone here needs to have their hands up
if they don’t want to risk being shot!” Bethany really dislikes my police
voice, but now I was more scared than she’d been, and I prayed that my fear
wasn’t audible.
Making my way into the kitchen, I checked the blind spots
reflexively and swept the bright beam towards the door. My heart fell as I saw
it wide open in the gleam, the storm door banging against the railing on the
step.
Racing to the door, I peered out into the darkness, seeing
nothing, crying my daughter’s name, hanging onto the doorjamb like a lifeline
as I felt the strength fading from my legs.
Only after my voice started to give out did I finally look down and notice the tuft of matted fur stuck into the splintered doorframe where the deadbolt had been, a good four feet above the ground.
