Scrapped

Every time Mike and the boys left the house on Mondays, Annie felt an onslaught of freedom and relief, tinged with a little guilt. Should she feel this happy because she had the whole house and the whole day to herself? She didn’t know what mess to tackle first, while her work called to her.

She straightened up the kitchen, always first, putting the dishes in the dishwasher, putting away all the cereal boxes and the milk and so on. She called Hannah Bowman, the young woman from the wake, who wasn’t at the bakery where she worked, so she left a message. Then she allowed herself to be drawn to the computer.

She looked up “runes.” A site all about runes—Runepedia—came up on her screen. Annie read over the first part and saw that Cookie was right. Germanic written languages used runic alphabets before adopting the Latin alphabet. As she read on, she was surprised to see that there were Scandinavian variants, known as “futharks,” the Anglo-Saxon term for which was “futhorcs.” She read on and learned that there was an actual study of runic alphabets called runology, which formed a specialized branch of Germanic linguistics.

Germanic linguistics? Cookie didn’t mention that. Annie wondered if she could find an expert in Germanic linguistics who knew about runes. That way they could approach the symbols with some semblance of academic rigor and not rely on these New Agers, whom even Cookie greeted with suspicion.

As Annie read further, she saw that the earliest runic inscriptions dated from around AD 150. Runes were first replaced by Latin letters when a culture that used runes underwent Christianization by around AD 700. But people never really gave up using runes—they continued to use them for “special purposes” in Northern Europe. Then the term “special purposes” popped out at her several times. What special purposes? She read more. The three best-known runic alphabets were Elder Futhark (around 150 to 800 AD), Anglo-Saxon Futhorc (400 to 1100 AD), and Younger Futhark (800 to 1100 AD). Younger Futhark was further divided into the long-branch runes.

Those further divisions were going to have to wait. Annie’s eyes were beginning to glaze over. Better get more coffee and a shower, and then maybe she could start making sense of this.

Just then the doorbell rang. She walked to the door, still in her threadbare sweatpants that she called pajamas and a long Redskins T-shirt. She looked through the peephole. Detective Bryant and Beatrice. Oh, boy. The two of them together? They were like oil and water. This ought to be good.

She opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“Can we come in?” the detective asked.

She glanced around at her messy home. Toys on the couch. Clothes thrown over chairs. Papers from the school on the coffee table and kitchen table. She shrugged. “I guess.” She grabbed the papers off the kitchen table and placed them on the counter. “Sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”

“No,” Beatrice said. “I’m fine.”

“Me too,” Detective Bryant said.

“I need another cup,” Annie said, turning her back on them, then pouring the coffee. She paused to listen to the noise of it and breathed in the scent of it. Then she turned around and sat at the table.

“I told him that you need some guards,” said Beatrice.

“I’m not surprised,” Annie responded.

“I’m going to ask you again. Why won’t you let us at least have a car outside?” he asked.

“I just haven’t had the chance to think. I was on deadline. The place was full of commotion. You know that,” Annie said.

“That is in the past. Today is today, and I think you’re going to need someone watching over your home at least,” he replied.

“I think we are overreaching here. Must be a logical explanation for that phone call,” Annie insisted. “Maybe someone else from the police called. You know, one hand doesn’t often know what the other is doing around here. You have a lot of new guys on the force. And I’m beginning to think the phone call was, um, just imaginary.”

“Pretending it didn’t happen won’t make it so,” Beatrice said.

“Bea, I’m not a child. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then stop acting like one,” she snapped back. “It’s gotten more serious than you know. More personal.”

“Early this morning one of the officers who was driving around town spotted a weird symbol painted on Beatrice’s house,” the detective said.

Annie’s stomach tightened. “Why Bea?”

“We figured that it was meant for you. They got the address confused,” Bryant said. He explained the similarity of the addresses.

Annie felt the breath leave her and tried to get some air.

“So, between the phone call and now this, I’m afraid that we are going to have to place you under watch . . . whether you want us to or not.”

Annie shot a look at Beatrice. Exactly what she didn’t need while she was working on this story—the Cumberland Creek police force under her feet.

“You know, other symbols, like the swastika, are painted in barns in Jenkins Hollow. You told me that it was just some kids being stupid, that it was nothing to worry about,” she said.

“Between you and me and Bea, I can tell you that there is something to worry about. I can’t tell you why. But you need to know this could be very dangerous for you and your family,” he said.

“These people are anti-Semitic?” Annie said weakly.

“Oh yes,” he said loudly. “But that’s only part of what they are.”

“Lord,” Beatrice said. “What’s wrong with people?”

“That is not your problem,” Bryant said. “We have everything under control.”

“Like hell you do,” Beatrice said. “There’s been two murders in this town recently. You have nothing under control. Nothing.”

“Did it ever occur to you that there might be even more murders if we didn’t have some control here?” he retorted.

Annie felt a chill travel up her spine, even as she held the hot coffee in her hands.

“Last time you two got your heads together, you almost got killed,” he said to Beatrice. “Now, personally, I don’t like either one of you. But I don’t want to see you dead.” He crossed his arms over his stomach.

“Mighty kind of you,” Beatrice said, while Annie was trying to keep breakfast down.