Hannahwhere

by John McIlveen

  If Anna can communicate with Hannah’s spiritual and physical self even when she’s asleep, then why can’t she communicate with her own physical self? Because her physical self cannot respond if it’s neither awake nor asleep, Debbie thinks.

  Debbie turns Anna around to face her. “Anna, I want to help you and Hannah, but to do it we need to know where your physical self was when the thinking you left it.”

  “I don’t know,” says Anna. “I tried, but I don’t remember.”

  “Okay, we’ll try a different approach. What’s the last thing you remember doing before you came here?”

  Anna closes her eyes and concentrates. “I don’t know.”

  Debbie reclines to the flower cushioned ground and sits. “Sit here, back to me,” she directs Anna, pointing to a spot in front of her. Anna obeys and Debbie shuffles forward a few inches. She pulls Anna’s hair onto her lap and separates it into three long and even sections.

  “I know you probably don’t want to think about this, but it’s very important,” Debbie insists. “Can you remember if Travis brought you anywhere after he pulled you out from under the house?”

  Anna flinches, disquieted by the mention of Travis’s name, and Debbie tries to comfort her. She finishes brushing the three sections of Anna’s hair, she starts weaving them into a braid. Enjoying the attention, Anna sits up straighter.

  “Yeah, I remember he drove to Sandy Channel and said he was going to throw me in the water if I didn’t tell him where Mom put her money. I don’t know where Mom put it,” Anna says, shaking her head as if trying to convince Debbie as well.

  “It’s alright, sweetie,” Debbie assures her. “What is Sandy Channel?”

  “Mom used to take us there to swim and play.”

  “What did Travis do when you were there?” Debbie asks, feeling her anger peak at the scumbag’s threat to toss her into the water. In mid-March the water would have been freezing, if not frozen solid.

  “It got real cold. I didn’t have my coat because it was still at home,” Anna says. “Travis fell asleep and we sat there a long time.”

  “Why didn’t you run away when Travis was asleep?”

  “Sandy Channel is far away from our house,” Anna says. “He said he would kill Hannah just like he killed Mom if I got out of the car.”

  “How long did he sleep?” Debbie asks.

  Anna shrugs. “Dunno. It was nighttime and really cold so I used the blanket Mom kept in the car. It didn’t help much. My feet were hurting from the cold, and I couldn’t move my arm. When he woke up, he turned the heat on. That was a little better.”

  “You had no shoes on?”

  “No, I didn’t get to put some on.”

  Debbie shakes her head unbelievingly. “You’re doing great, honey. What else happened?”

  Anna shrugged. “Not a lot. He kept swearing and yelling a lot… more than usual and it really scared me. I laid down on the back floor so he couldn’t see me and I would fly away.”

  “To here… Hannahwhere?”

  “Annaplace. We parked in this big garage for two days. He went out two times, once for food and once for drugs, I think, because that’s when we had to leave real fast back to Sandy Channel.”

  “Why’d he go back there?” Debbie asks.

  “He smoked something gross in a glass pipe. It smelled yuckier than cigarettes and farts.” Anna wrinkles her nose at the memory.

  “Oh God,” Debbie mutters, recalling the acrid smell of meth that lingered like ghosts in the homes of some of her cases. She conjures a hair tie and wraps it around the end of the long braid. “Did he get ugly?”

  “Yeah. I got mad at Travis and told him I wanted to go home. He jumped and screamed a bunch of bad words, and growled at me like a dog. He started driving and I thought he was going to bring me home because we were near the four corners, but he stopped the car and made me get out. He pulled me by my hair.”

  “What an ass… jerk! What was he thinking?” Debbie says angrily. “Without a coat and shoes? In the middle of the night? In the middle of March? What did you do?”

  Anna shrinks back from her and shrugs. “He kept yelling at me and knocked me down. He kicked me in the back. It hurt wicked bad, but I was so scared and I couldn’t stop crying, so I got back up and kept running away from him.”

  Debbie is horrified. She knows Anna’s getting worked up, but she feels the answer is there somewhere.

  “What are the four corners… where are they? Is it an intersection?” Debbie asks.

  “It’s where the two highway roads crisscross near home,” says Anna. “The one-eighty-three overpass?” she adds. It sounds more like a question.

  “Did you go back home?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Mom told us never to walk on the highways, so I think I went through the field, but I don’t remember. All I remember is it was so cold that my feet were burning. I was afraid that Travis was still chasing me.”

  Debbie moves in front of Anna, grasps her gently on her upper arms, and looks into her eyes. “This is important, Anna, try to remember.”

  Anna’s mouth moves as she tries to speak, but instead she bursts into tears. Debbie feels as if they’ve somehow just broken through and maybe awakened a memory. “I don’t remember,” sobs Anna. “Don’t be mad at me! Please don’t be mad at me!”

  “Sweetie! No, I’m not mad at all. Never! I’m sorry. No more questions, I mean it.”

  Debbie pulls her into a tight hug and Anna clings on urgently, starving for her warmth. It’s not just physical, but an emotional need for warmth, love, acceptance, and direction. Nearly every component of Anna’s support system is gone, her mother, her father, her body, and her sense of being. Her confusion and fear must be all encompassing and nearly crippling. Trust should be a near impossibility for Anna, and yet she trusts Debbie and clings to her.

  Debbie lays her cheek on Anna’s head, willing heat into her, and the feeling overwhelms her again, the same one she experienced with Hannah; her willingness to do anything and everything in her power to make things, if not right, at least better for Anna. It is the feeling of being their only hope, and a vital need to protect Hannah and Anna at all costs. It is the feeling of being a mother.

  While Debbie holds Anna, it occurs to her that Anna does not disobey. It’s natural to put your own safety first—especially a child—yet Anna stayed in the car and withstood severe physical discomfort for hours. As Travis slept, she nearly froze—trapped by fear and obedience—because he threatened Hannah’s life. A moment earlier, Anna was sobbing and nearly frantic that Debbie would be upset with her. As ludicrous as it sounds, Debbie believes a major reason Anna’s body hasn’t been found is that she obeyed her mother.

  Debbie wants to check out her suspicions, but Anna’s present state seems too fragile to leave her alone. Hannah, where are you? Debbie wonders and calls out mentally. Hannah is standing at her side within seconds.

  “Did you hear me call you?” Debbie asks.

  “Kind of, I guess. I heard you call in my head, but not in my ears,” Hannah explains.

  “I guess that answers the telepathy question,” Debbie says.

  Hannah looks at her as if she’s discussing Quantum Physics.

  “Never mind,” Debbie continues. “I’m glad you heard me. I have an idea where the physical Anna may be, so I have a lot to do, but Anna needs her sister right now. She’s upset.”

  “Come here, silly, chilly Anna,” Hannah says and takes her sister’s hand. “Nice braid!”

  Debbie hugs and kisses both girls. “We’re going to make everything better, all three of us. I’ll be back for both of you once I make sense of things, okay?”

  They nod their understanding.

  “I love you,” says Anna.

  The sentiment is unexpected, and Debbie is speechless for a moment as she swallows the lump in her throat.

  “I love both of you,” Debbie says and it pleases her that it doesn’t feel odd leaving her mouth. Nervou
sly kneading her hands, Debbie says, “I feel like I should be wearing red ruby slippers. Here goes.”

  She closes her eyes and pictures her body lying on her bed in her apartment. She lets reality go and thinks, fly home, envisioning herself skydiving. The ground drops out from beneath her, bringing with it the torrent of flashing colors, lights, and the horrendous sense of vertigo and dread. Debbie careens out of control, flailing her arms and feet.

  Debbie slapped the stack of case files to the floor and overturned the lamp on her bedside table. She lay in the darkness trying to gather her senses, her heart hammering so hard that she felt the pulse in her feet. She fumbled in the dark, trying unsuccessfully to find the lamp. She rolled to the other side of the bed and switched on the matching lamp.

  On her radio Men at Work were asking if she came from the land Down Under. She checked her iPhone. It was 5:44 a.m. and she still had not slept as far as she could tell, but storming through her head were too many questions demanding answers.

  She gathered up the case files that had fanned across the floor, carried them into the living room, and set them on the couch atop her ever-increasing backlog pile. No matter how fast she worked, the accursed backlog refused to dwindle, and there would be no headway made today.

  She opened Hannah’s case file, found the address to the home that Elizabeth Amiel and her daughters had lived in, and released a harsh derisive laugh.

  433 North Easy Street.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” she said aloud.

  One thing Elizabeth Amiel surely had not experienced much during her time in the good ol’ US of A was “Easy Street”. What a sardonic, full-tilt boot in the ass! It didn’t escape Debbie that the house also had the same number as Hannah’s hospital room.

  She opened her laptop, roused it from sleep mode, and punched in her password. Google Earth appeared and centered over Elm Creek, Nebraska. How convenient that she hadn’t closed out of her earlier session.

  The four corners that Anna had referred to were immediately obvious. The tiny city was located on the east side of Route 183, and split by Route 30. There was no need to type the address; the streets were clearly labeled on the map. Why they named it North Easy Street was beyond her, since there was no South, East, West, or just plain Easy Street in Elm Creek.

  There was no direct route from the four corners to North Easy Street—which ran through most of the little city—on the Northeast quadrant where the two highways intersected. Route 183 ran parallel to North Easy Street, though separated by only an on-ramp and farmland.

  Yeah, snow-covered farmland, being traversed by a minimally clothed and barefoot seven-year-old child at the coldest and darkest hour of a freezing March winter night!

  The poor child! Her whole body must have been in excruciating pain.

  She must still be in excruciating pain, Debbie realized.

  There were so many suppositions about what could have happened to Anna. She might have fallen into a well, or perhaps someone driving by had hit her or picked her up… possibly some deranged pedophile. Debbie forced her thoughts from that prospect. Wherever Anna ended up, she must have been coherent enough to move her spiritual self to Annaplace.

  Debbie started viewing the homes along either side of North Easy Street, pleased that Elm Creek merited street view, which was exactly as it sounded, a view of Elm Creek from the perspective of someone standing in the street. As amazing as the program was, the satellite images only provided approximate street numbers, no high-resolution close-ups, and all the images were of indeterminate date. Right in Riverside, which she considered a somewhat current community, some satellite images hadn’t been updated in years. Buildings that had burned down or been razed still stood on Google. Long-gone cars still occupied driveways and two-year-old swimming pools had yet to appear in the yards they occupied. Considering these minor setbacks, Debbie would have to rely on simple deduction or—perish the thought—common sense.

  The reports verified that Elizabeth Amiel had rented a single-family home, and considering her situation as a relatively new immigrant and a single mother of two, it would likely be a small house on the west side of the street—the odd-numbered side. Most of the properties were adjacent to the farmland and had larger structures that were likely associated with the farms. The house that best fit the bill to be the Amiel home was a beige-roofed modular about a quarter-mile from the four corners. If this was indeed the house, the walk must have been an eternity to Anna. Hypothermia could set in as early as fifteen minutes, depending on how low the outside temperature was. Second-stage hypothermia, which caused violent shivering, stumbling, and confusion, occurred shortly after, especially for such a small being. Frostbite was inevitable.

  Where was Hannah during all of this? Debbie wondered. She must have been, as Hannah put it, all the way in Hannahwhere. The question raised many others. Hannah had said she “fell out” of Hannahwhere. If so, why did Hannah stick around the dumpster for as long as she did? Knowing that things were bad, why didn’t Anna transfer herself completely to Annaplace… assuming that she could? What was keeping her from leaving?

  According to Anna, it must have been in the still hours of the morning when she fled from Travis into the frozen night. Somewhere between 1:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m., Debbie estimated. What would Anna have seen if she made it home that night? It was maybe three days later. Everybody would surely have been gone by then: the police, the ambulance, Hannah, her mother’s body…

  Her mother’s body!

  Had Anna returned home expecting Hannah and her mother to be there? The intense cold likely had Anna confused and in pain, and the last time Anna had seen her mother, she was alive. Travis had been attacking her, but Mom was crying and telling them to hide, so maybe in Anna’s seven-year-old mind she must still be alive.

  Sadly, Hannah had seen her mother’s body, had touched her and ineffectively tried to awaken her. Anna didn’t have that kind of confirmation. What would a seven-year-old child do if she came home to an empty house or, even worse, locked doors? Would she have gone to a neighbor’s house? Maybe not, considering Anna’s need for approval, and desire to please. Debbie believed Anna would have obeyed her mother without exception.

  While 6:39 a.m. might be a little earlier than Phil Davenport preferred to rise, with so much in the balance, Debbie couldn’t find it within herself to care what time the detective did anything. She fished through the pockets of her laptop case, pulled out Davenport’s card, and dialed his number.

  Call forwarding.

  “Shit,” Debbie muttered. She left a message with a callback request and disconnected the call.

  With a head full of questions and a heart full of purpose, she selected some clothes from her closet, a bra and panties from her dresser, and tossed it all on her bed. In the bathroom, she stripped naked, loaded her toothbrush with too much Tom’s toothpaste, and brushed her teeth. She rinsed, and righted herself to regard the naked woman staring at her from the mirror. Nakedness was a condition Debbie avoided. She was a stranger to herself in this context, having convinced herself that she was marred and ghastly.

  Look! Debbie demanded of herself. Don’t hide.

  She stared into her vivid blue eyes and at the shocking copper tone of her hair and saw nothing vile or hideous. She ran her hand across the constellation of freckles coating her face, arms, and shoulders and felt no gruesome scars or deformities. She looked at her chest and the creamy white flesh of her breasts.

  Hey Red!

  Debbie started, grabbed a towel, and quickly wrapped herself in it.

  Chapter 21

  Debbie tiptoed into Hannah’s hospital room at around one in the afternoon. It was a pointless act being that it would take something in the range of a landmine to rouse Hannah when she was in Hannahwhere.

  She wasn’t. She was sitting up in the bed, facing the large windows that overlooked the parking lot two stories below. Hannah spun on the bed and pinned Debbie with gleaming eyes and a beaming smile.
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br />   “Hello, Sunshine,” greeted Debbie. She set her purse on the chair and placed a Kohl’s shopping bag on the bed. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I heard you thinking about me,” Hannah said.

  “Really?” Debbie asked, concerned that she might have to start monitoring her thoughts.

  “No,” Hannah admitted with a toothy grin. “I saw you get out of your car.”

  “You’re a little prankster,” Debbie said, still a little uneasy. It’s amazing, she thought, how quickly I’m now willing to accept that which was implausible just a week ago.

  Then again, why wouldn’t it be possible? All you had to do was think outside the reality box, as Anna and Hannah had demonstrated repeatedly. The ability to read minds; what a terrifying thought. It could turn the most passionate lovers into enemies. Everybody would be pre-guessing everyone. It could put the world into disarray. Debbie figured it’d be better to leave well enough alone, though the apprehension stuck with her, hovering just beneath the surface.

  Hannah crawled to the edge of the bed and threw her arms around Debbie.

  “Wow! What a greeting!” said Debbie. “Someone must have slept well. Why so chipper?”

  Hannah lined up eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose with her, a position Debbie had seen so many children take with their parents; a show of cohesion and conviction she never thought she would experience in her lifetime. Debbie again felt that maternal rush and the ache of longing that accompanied it.

  “You went to see Anna last night… by yourself!” said Hannah conspiratorially.

  “That’s right, I did. Are you proud of me?”

  “You so totally rock, Squirt!” Hannah said, adopting a decent “surfer-dude” accent. “So give me some fin.”

  She offered her hand for a high-five, which Debbie dutifully slapped.

  “Noggin…” Hannah said and bumped her forehead none-too-gently into Debbie’s forehead. Debbie rubbed her head, stunned but delighted by Hannah’s good mood.