Scrapped

Annie left the crop a little early. She was still feeling a lack of energy and needed to chill on her couch and sort through some of her bizarre memories of the shooting and her hospital stay. As the blue lights of the TV screen flickered in the otherwise dark room, she sank into the couch cushions and noticed the stack of cards brought over from the hospital. She reached for them, thinking she really had not gotten a chance to look over them.

She heard the toilet flush and wondered which of her boys was roaming through the house. Soon Mike padded into the room.

“Hey, you’re home early,” he said and sat down next to her. “Something wrong?”

“Just tired,” she said. “Not myself.”

She opened one of the cards and laughed. That DeeAnn always made her smile. The next card was from her editor—very conservative blue. The card after that was thicker than the others.

“Give yourself some time, Annie. You’ve been through hell,” he said and placed his arm around her as she was opening the next card. A note fell out. It was from Hannah Bowman.

Please help me. I am afraid for my life.

Annie gasped. Tears stung her eyes. “Hannah,” she could barely say.

“What?” Mike said and reached for the note. “Good God. We need to call Bryant.”

“Wait,” Annie said. “She didn’t ask the police for help. She asked me.”

“Annie, I love you, but there is no way I am allowing you to go traipsing off to a godforsaken place to help a young woman who may be in danger. Besides, they’ve caught the murderer. He confessed.”

“Did you just say ‘allow’ me, Michael Jonathon?”

“For God’s sake, Mike, do you think I’m a different person because I’m a mother now? Do you think that gives you the right to be in charge of me? Since when do you allow me to do anything?”

“Are we going to discuss semantics now? Because you damn well know what I mean. I mean I don’t want you putting yourself in danger. We moved here for you to be safer, for us to be here for our boys, remember?”

“I know, Mike,” she said and sighed. “But it looks like I’m still a reporter. And more than that, I am a person. This young woman has reached out to me, and it might already be too late.”

“The police have—”

“I don’t believe that young man killed those young women,” she said for the first time, even though she’d felt it for some time.

“I’m confused. Luther confessed, right?”

“People confess for all sorts of reasons. Not always because they are guilty.”

“What makes you think Luther didn’t kill those women?”

“It’s just a feeling I have, Mike. And this whole case doesn’t make sense to me.”

“So you’re going to risk your life because of a feeling you have? Okay,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “So, what if your feeling is right? What if you go up to the mountain to rescue this girl and get hurt again, or worse . . . ? Annie, what would I and the boys do without you?”

His brown eyes were filling with tears. This wasn’t just a power play. He wasn’t simply trying to tell her what to do. He was genuinely concerned. Every once in a while, Annie was struck by the feeling that she didn’t deserve this man. He loved her and wanted to protect her. Why was her first inclination to be angry with him?

“I mean, you were just shot. If that didn’t scare some sense into you, I just don’t know what the problem is,” he went on.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay, Mike. I am scared. I don’t want to go back to Jenkins Mountain. But Hannah is in danger. And maybe there’s a reason she asked me and not the police.”

“Yes, but you can’t risk going up there. Let’s call Bryant.”

“Bryant!” If steam could come out of her ears, it would have been filling up the room.

“What’s your problem with him?”

“Where do I start? He’s sexist, for one thing, a smart-ass, for another. Not helpful. A liar. Shall I go on?”

Mike grinned at Annie. “So he just sounds like most of the cops you’ve known. C’mon. He’s a cop. He’s got to be a good guy, basically. Right?”

“Okay,” she said, hesitating. “I’ll call, but you have to promise you will let me handle it.”

“Pinkie swear,” he said and kissed her.