“Why not bring things out?” asked Debbie. “It seems to me you could bring back such wonderful things.” She again thought about the little boy hiding in the shower. Had Hannah brought a playmate back?
“Well, we could sometimes bring things out, but only to places where we’re safe and where no one can see us. Usually only in our bedroom. Mom said it would mess up people’s heads too much.”
Debbie thought about blue doves, stingerless bumblebees, and metallic mangoes, and was inclined to agree. “Your mom was right.”
“And Mom said we can never-ever-ever bring things in with us,” Hannah said. She sat down and folded her legs beneath her.
“Why never-ever-ever bring anything in? I brought things in, like the soda and the pen,” Debbie said. “And what about our clothing?”
Hannah shrugged. “Because they might never come back, like Schweizer,” she said.
“Wait. Who’s Schweizer?”
“He was our cat.”
“Was? What happened to Schweizer?”
Discomforted by the question, Hannah started fidgeting. She said, “One time I brought him to Hannahwhere because I thought he’d like to play there, but I didn’t bring him back with me. I thought he’d be okay until I came back, but I never could find him. Mom thought that when we come back from our places, they aren’t there anymore. They, like, disappear. That’s why Mom thought we should have our own places, like Hannahwhere and Annaplace, so if someone leaves, the other person doesn’t disappear like Schweizer.”
Debbie had a sinking feeling in her stomach and her world stuttered a little. “You never found Schweizer?”
Hannah shook her head.
“But you brought me there with you!”
“No, you followed me,” Hannah said with a defensive edge to her voice. “And it was just the thinking you that was there.”
This didn’t put Debbie at ease. She pictured her spirit floating aimlessly through a giant, empty void, or simply ceasing to exist. Would she have been found dead in this chair, or would she have become a soulless vessel, existing for years on life support in a blank-eyed coma? It was a painful concept.
“My spirit?” asked Debbie. “What if you had forgotten me there?”
Hannah wrinkled her nose at the question.
“Don’t make bunny faces at me!” Debbie said, tapering back the dread within her.
Hannah giggled and said, “I wouldn’t forget you. I would have brought you back.”
“You would have? What do you mean would have?” Debbie protested.
“I would have, but you came back before me,” Hannah said.
“I did? I came back alone?”
Hannah nodded. “Yeah, I said we had to go, but you were already leaving.”
“How’d I go by myself? I had no idea what I was doing there. I’ve never done this before!”
“We always go back to our… body-self. Maybe you do, too. You made your own place, like your own Hannahwhere. You should probably name your place like Mom says, so it’s only yours. It’s easier to think about when you want to go again. It helps if you have a song to sing, too, so noises and other stuff don’t bother you.” She nodded with wide-eyed conviction, trying to stress the importance of her words. “Or if you’re ascaired.”
Debbie let it sink in. It was a lot to process, almost too much, and as terrifying as it was, it was exhilarating. This peanut-sized girl had shown her the gift of magic and had introduced her to the power of the gods. Debbie resisted the urge to retreat, which was her normal reaction when regarding her own issues. She was like a ninja when defending children, but not so when she felt herself at risk. When things get crazy, go the other way.
Take it slow and easy and look for the sanity. It worked for the children.
“Hannah?” Debbie said.
“Huh?” She was starting to doze.
“A while ago you said you had to bring me into Hannahwhere to make me believe. Why is it so important I believe?”
“Because we don’t know how to make Anna not stuck, and now she’s getting sick.”
Debbie had seen it and felt it, the intense cold and the darkening around Anna’s eyes, but it hadn’t hit home until Hannah said it.
"I think Mom would know what to do,” she said, looking at Debbie with teary eyes. “But Travis killed Mom.”
Debbie pulled her closer, trying to comfort her. “But why me, Hannah? Why not Essie or Detective Davenport? Why do you think I can help you and Anna?”
“Because you’re supposed to,” Hannah said, sniffing and wiping absently at her eyes and nose. “You’re nicer than all the other people, and you let me think-talk to you. They don’t.”
“What other people?”
“Everyone,” Hannah said.
“Do they know when you try to think-talk to them?” Debbie noticed new bandages on Hannah’s feet and wondered when they were changed.
“No one ever answers except for you and once a really scary guy, but I ran away from him.” Hannah nodded reassuringly. “Mom said we shouldn’t trust people who open their ears and their minds unless they open their hearts, too. When someone opens their heart, you can see what’s inside. You can trust those people. The scary man didn’t open his heart.”
“Your mom was a smart lady. I’m glad you decided to trust me,” Debbie said. Again, the little boy came to mind. “Hannah, do you and Anna have anyone else to play with there? Do you have any little friends about your age?”
Hannah locked Debbie with a doleful stare. “You’re the only person who ever went with us. You’re not going to take me and Anna away from each other, are you?”
Overwhelmed by the admission of her biggest fear, Hannah let the floodgates open and her sniffles transformed into heart-wrenching sobs. Debbie could only hold her and try to comfort her. She reprimanded herself for forgetting that Hannah was still a very young and enormously vulnerable child, and for letting Hannah’s mature manner slant her view. She held Hannah’s head to her shoulder.
“Hannah. Honey. I will do everything I can to help you and Anna. I mean it with all of my heart.”
Debbie felt lost. She hadn’t recognized the magnitude of Anna’s declining health, and significance of her inability to return to her physical self. This meant only Anna’s spirit—or the thinking her, as Hannah would say—was there, or she would be able to come and go at will. Had Anna’s spirit been trapped in Annaplace for two years? If so… where was her body? How was she staying alive and why was her health waning now? She would need nutrition. Hannah ate ravenously whenever she returned, so shouldn’t Anna’s spirit-self be aware of the surroundings around her physical-self, just as Hannah was, being half here and half there? How was Anna receiving sustenance?
Is she on life support somewhere?
The thought rocked Debbie. If Anna’s mind was active but her body not, would it inhibit her ability to return? Any hospital would have to report if an adorable little Jane Doe showed up in a stupor or a coma. Hannah became national news immediately and she couldn’t imagine it being any different with Anna.
Why was she always so cold to the touch?
“Hannah, do you know why Anna’s so cold?” Debbie asked. “Has she said anything to you?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah said sleepily. “She said it hurts, like being in the snow or in really cold water. We think the body-Anna is somewhere cold and the thinking Anna can feel it, but we don’t know where.”
“Honey, how long has Anna been there like that?” she asked.
“Since Mom died. She’s always there when I go.” Hannah settled her head down. She was tired and emotionally exhausted. Feeling guilty, Debbie let her fall asleep.
It hurts, Debbie thought. Like being in the snow or in really cold water. Debbie couldn’t tolerate standing in the cold water at Hampton Beach for more than five minutes. It was agonizing! Two years! Dear God! That would feel like an eternity! How could she maintain her sanity?
The notion that Anna’s physical-self
was somewhere that cold for that long wasn’t feasible. Fatality from hypothermia usually set in after only fifteen minutes in water at freezing temperature, and an hour at fifty degrees. When the core body temperature dropped below ninety-five hypothermia occurred, and Anna was much colder than that—so cold that touching her was uncomfortable.
Could she be in a suspended cryogenic state? It was science fiction, as most aspects of Debbie’s life seemed lately, but was it possible?
Of course it was, thought Debbie. The question lately was what wasn’t possible?
If so, who could? Cryogenics was a financial monstrosity that only the extremely wealthy or funded institutions could afford. Besides, who would do that to a seven-year-old girl? That outlandish train of thought was one Debbie would rather not ride.
If, as Hannah had suggested, the spirit always returned to the body, the most rational reason Anna could not get back to her physical-self would be if…
“Oh my God,” Debbie gasped. The chill that rushed over her was immense. How horrifying! Nevertheless, it was the only logical concept—logical, as she now knew it.
What would happen if Anna’s physical-self died while her spirit-self was in Annaplace?
Doesn’t the spirit leave when the vessel dies? That’s why it’s called the afterlife. Believing the spirit persisted eternally after the body died was the driving force behind most religions. What if her physical self died when her spirit was gone? It surely couldn’t return, could it? Why would it? If her ability to transition between the spiritual and physical self were in any way like Hannah’s, then her physical body would be spiritless and totally vulnerable.
Even to the cold? Could frigidity be associated with a corpse’s transition from body temperature to room temperature? But Anna was seriously sub-room temperature. Once the body died, was the spirit still sympathetic to its physical circumstances? Had Travis, the monstrous bastard, locked her in a freezer after he abducted her? Maybe it was something more obscure. Perhaps the spirit went through some kind of withdrawal or reaction if the body died while the spirit was mobile.
Debbie listened to Hannah’s breathing, now deep and even in sleep, but every so often succumbing to an emotional hitch. Who could ever guess the awe-inspiring potential within this little girl? And yet, how defenseless her innocence had made her. Hannah and Anna’s world was so tenuous that a single malicious heart could crumble their universe. They did not defend themselves because they did not understand the opposite course. Attack and retaliation were not in their vocabulary. Purity didn’t think about manipulation, advantages, or how to convert another person's misfortune into personal gain. It didn’t relate with evil. It didn’t fit on the same tracks. It didn’t know the math.
In a few short days, Hannah and Anna had introduced Debbie to experiences and feelings that she had spent years believing that she could and would never know. They were powerful feelings with sharp barbs that sunk in easily and nested deeply. Once hooked, there was no removing them without a lot of pain and damage. As uncanny, frightening, and frantic as her life had become since Hannah and Anna had stepped into it, Debbie couldn’t turn her back on them no matter the cost. Hannah and Anna had suffered so much already in their short lives. They had been victims for too long and Debbie was ashamed, but not too proud to admit that they would fill a very prominent void in her life.
Debbie tried to sleep but after the better part of an hour, the parade of thoughts and scenarios continued their relentless march through her head. Anna’s dilemma had her heartsick and nearly desperate. Every minute she sat around doing nothing was another minute longer that poor child had to suffer, which was unacceptable. Of course, all the worrying might be for naught, depending on what Essie and Davenport decided to do with what they had learned that day. Debbie was not overly concerned about Essie. Her professional oath as a clinician, and her compassion as a mother should keep the woman sensible, but she knew very little about Davenport and trusted him even less. Her past had taught her that if she put her faith in the good intentions of the common man, she usually did all right… unless they had something to gain, and then she was screwed. Time was priceless.
Debbie wiggled forward to the lip of the seat and rose. She set Hannah onto the bed and pulled the sheet and light blanket up to her shoulders.
She would still have to check in at work and do a lot of catching up. As much as she disliked leaving Hannah, other children needed her.
“You’ll come back?” Hannah asked, surprising Debbie.
“A pack of wolves couldn’t keep me away,” Debbie said. She hugged Hannah tightly, again savoring the smell of her hair. “I have some work I need to do so I have to go for a little while. I will be back in the morning when I’m finished.”
Hannah met her gaze, and the look of fear and doubt in her eyes broke Debbie’s heart. Debbie pulled a piece of paper from her laptop bag and wrote her phone number in large script.
“You know how to use the phone, right?” she asked.
Hannah gave her an incredulous look and said, “Duh!”
“Okay,” Debbie said with a laugh, wanting to cheer the little display of defiance. It felt like a sign that there might be a normal, healthy kid hiding in there. “If you need me for any reason, call me at this number. If someone starts asking you questions that make you uncomfortable, just tell them that you need to call your caseworker and you don’t want to answer them until I’m here. Okay?”
Hannah nodded solemnly.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Debbie kissed her on the forehead, unable to avoid Hannah’s look of mistrust and the profound hopefulness hiding beneath it.
Chapter 20
Debbie arrived home at 2 a.m. The frantic pace with which Hannah and Anna’s case kept changing and the ever-increasing intensity of this new reality she was learning had her deeply concerned about Hannah’s and Anna’s well-being… and her own. Was her sanity at risk? Debbie was unsure of the answer, but curling up in fear would benefit no one. She needed to learn more about the Amiel twins.
She freed her laptop from its bag and set it on her desk. As it booted up, Dr. Hook crooned the advantages of Sharing the Night Together from the radio in her bedroom. Debbie entered her password and her screen switched to a high-resolution background of a bald eagle in noble flight high above mountain peaks of granite and snow. Ranks of icons blossomed on the right side of her screen as if tempting the great bird. Debbie positioned her pointer atop the Outlook icon, hesitated, and then clicked on the Google Earth icon that neighbored it. Email would wait.
Debbie typed in Elm Creek, Nebraska, the town where Hannah and Anna had lived. The Google globe rotated, centered, and zoomed in on a small square of a town around two hundred miles west of Omaha. Nestled just east of the intersection of Route 30 and 183, Elm Creek was a small community amidst a sea of green farmland. She zoomed in on the furrowed pastures, dirt access ways, and shining silver grain silos, and moved along the town’s streets with no certainty of what she was looking for. She was taken by just how small Elm Creek was amongst all the farmland.
In another browser window, she accessed www.city-data.com, typed in Elm Creek, Nebraska, and waited for the screen to populate with the facts. Predominantly white with a population of less than nine hundred, but still considered a city, Elm Creek ranked lower in most medians state and countrywide: income, home value, rent rates, and unemployment. Elm Creek High School had had a graduating class of fewer than thirty in 2009.
Their senior proms must be epic, Debbie mused.
Despite all the farmland, manufacturing beat out agriculture twenty-nine percent to twelve percent as the largest industry. Debbie couldn’t recall what Elizabeth did for work, if she had ever known. She pulled Hannah’s file from her bag and shuffled through the papers. Elizabeth Amiel had been head teller at Firstier Bank… respectable enough.
How about our friend Travis? Debbie wondered. At the time of his arrest, Travis had been collecting disability for seven months, allegedly f
rom falling off a loading dock. Prior to that, he had worked for the City of Kearney Public Works Department. He was relieved of his duties for drinking on the job and physically assaulting his supervisor, who had not filed charges.
Debbie returned to the web page and scrolled to the climate display. She had always envisioned Nebraska being in a warmer climate than Massachusetts, believing it was southwest, but looking at the USA map showed it was more west than south. It was warmer, but not by much. According to the webpage she was on, it was sixty-nine degrees in Elm Creek, at 1:17 a.m. Central Standard Time. The local weather gadget on the toolbar read currently sixty-four degrees in Riverside, only a five-degree difference.
If Anna’s spirit-self was sympathetic to her physical-self, as Debbie had earlier surmised, it wasn’t cold enough in the Elm Creek area to justify her frigid temperature. Even the bodies of water, if she had fallen in, although cold, would be warmer than the frosty aura Anna gave off.
Then, why is she still so cold? Why hadn’t she cast it off? Unless she had in fact died and her spirit-self was sympathetic to the condition of her physical-self at the time of her death. Would a freezer go unchecked for two years? She supposed it was possible. Maybe if it was a personal freezer in someone’s home… maybe somebody who lived alone.
Debbie rubbed her head vigorously, releasing her pent up aggravation and leaving her hair chaotic and snapping with static. She grabbed the case papers, quickly scanning and shuffling them until she found the photocopied Lincoln Journal Star article dated March 11, 2008.
ELM CREEK WOMAN, 28, BRUTALLY STABBED TO DEATH IN HOME.
She looked at the climate graph on her laptop. The average daily temperature for Elm Creek in March was thirty-four degrees, and probably a lot lower at night. If Anna’s physical-self died while her spirit-self was in Annaplace, she would have died shortly—maybe days—after her mother was murdered, or she certainly would have turned up somewhere. The wind blew hard and the cold bit deep in March. The type of cold that emanated from Anna’s spirit-self. It added up… well, it did in her new definition of rationality.
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