by S.E. Akers
“BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…”
“Ughkk,” I grumbled at the sound of my alarm. Already?
In my disoriented state, I totally misjudged the smack I gave the SNOOZE button and ended up knocking the nagging clock clear off my bedside table. And as groggy as what I felt, I couldn’t have cared less when I’d heard it thump onto the floor. I started to pull all the covers up to my neck and curl back into a ball until the reality of what day it was hailed my attention like a sunny morning ray. My eyes popped open, shining just as bright. It was Sunday…and it was my birthday.
With an enthusiastic and guided push, I propped myself up against the headboard, only to be met with a considerable amount of weary resistance. It seemed my quick & lively rise was too much, too soon for my sluggish frame to manage right now. Then all of a sudden, my head started to pound, and not just a little bit either. A wrecking ball couldn’t have pummeled my skull any worse. I massaged my temples for a good minute, but the relentless throbs wouldn’t stop regardless how hard I pressed or how many circles my fingertips spun out.
Why does my head feel like this? In fact, I was aching clear down to my toes. Confused, I threw back the covers and eyed the rest of my body. I looked okay, but I couldn’t help but wonder, Why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a daggone coal truck?
I glanced down beside my bed. My alarm clock was lying sideways on the floor.
It’s 6:05 AM… Where’s Daddy? He’s usually in here before the alarm goes off. Maybe he’s running late? I’ll give him a few more minutes. The way my muscles felt, I wasn’t in any hurry to run downstairs to look for him.
As I lay there waiting patiently on my traditional birthday-cake-in-bed and rubbing my head, I couldn’t shake the notion that last night seemed to be a complete blur. I looked around my room. A garment bag stamped, “LAVISH” was hanging on the open closet door. I also spied something black peeking out of my hamper.
That’s right… Daddy surprised me with that dress when I got back from Ms. Sutherland’s house. I still found it odd that my memory needed to be jogged.
My mind raced, struggling to recall the details of last night. Katie came over to help me get ready…and then I left for the dance with Mike… I tried to think what happened next, but my mind was a total blank. Like a million times before, I reached for my necklace out of habit so I could concentrate.
It’s not here, I realized as my hands patted my neck and chest. I rooted around the bed — leaving no blanket, sheet, or pillow untouched or unturned. Just as I’d concluded my empty search, the memory of my clash with Charlotte surfaced like a piping-hot geyser.
That witch had all of my college applications hidden in her closet! I recalled the exact words she had spoken when I’d confronted her, as well as her cruel sentiments. I’ll never understand what I could’ve ever done to deserve her cruelty. We’ll have words later. She’s not gettin’ off the hook that easy!
I was mindful of the fact that I’d ripped off my locket in such an emotional rage, but I also recalled how physically painful it had been. I rubbed my neck as I thought about the intense fiery pain. That too was odd.
Maybe the cologne had some sort of reaction with the gold chain or something? All I knew was that once I’d yanked off the necklace, I felt instant relief.
As I laid my alarm clock back on the bedside table, my eyes spotted the beaded black clutch propped against the lamp. I vaguely recalled Katie handing it to me before I’d left for the dance. I pulled out my cell phone and stared at the blank screen. Dead, I assessed and then reached for its charger that had slipped down in-between the bed and the nightstand.
As I fastened the cord, a small jar of water sitting on the edge of the table caught my eye. Something sparkly was lying in the bottom of the glass.
The golden topaz ring Ms. Sutherland gave me… I looked at my hand. Funny, I don’t recall taking it off last night. I did, however, remember ditching my class ring at Katie’s insistence. Though I could have sworn I’d laid it on my nightstand, but it wasn’t there.
Maybe it fell off when I knocked my alarm clock on the floor?
Carefully, I scanned the perimeter of my bed and even leaned over to look underneath it (on both sides) and still it was nowhere to be found.
Weird… I’ll hunt for it later. It’s here somewhere. I scooped the golden topaz ring out of the jar, gave it a quick flick, and then slipped it back on the finger of my left hand. I can’t wait to show this to Daddy.
Feeling the tug of Mother Nature whispering her pleas, I went ahead and got out of bed. I figured I would just run to the bathroom and then climb back into bed to wait for my “surprise” cake. As I headed for the hall, my guilt directed my gaze towards the wadded-up dress sticking out of the hamper.
I can’t believe I just threw it in there like that and didn’t take the time nor care to hang it up. I’m sure Daddy paid several pretty pennies for that dress.
A strange feeling came over me that seemed relevant to the dress in some way, but in the midst of nature calling, I shook it off and stepped into the hall. To my complete shock, Chloe was coming out of her bedroom, already showered and dressed.
She’s never ready this early on a Sunday or even a school day for that matter. What gives?
My sister had an unusual air about her that seemed very somber. Even her eyes looked red like she’d been crying. I racked my brain to figure out if something had happened between her and Mike last night, but nothing came to mind.
“What’s wrong with—”
“You need to get dressed and come down to the living room — NOW,” Chloe ordered gruffly. She never broke her stride or even glanced back as she marched towards the stairs.
“What’s your problem?” I demanded.
She didn’t respond, which was unusual. Chloe was always one to snap back over anything.
With my bathroom-business complete, I grabbed my brush and stroked several questionable knots out of my hair. I hadn’t seen clumps this mangled since I was in Elementary School. What the heck did I do in my sleep? It kind of felt like I’d went to bed with it wet. I didn’t remember taking a bath, but that had to be it. I’ll not do that again, I grumbled as I raked and picked at an awfully stubborn spot. Once my tresses were tangle-free and ponytail fastened in place, I figured, Maybe I’d better go downstairs… Daddy may have something else planned.
Standing in front of the mirror, that same strange feeling about my dress kept churning while I gazed at my reflection. Then suddenly, a graphic vision of me running through the woods barefoot and in a panic emerged from out of nowhere. The air was freezing and the ground was equally as icy and saturated with snow. Sharp branches were scraping my skin at every turn, and the scratchy sounds of fabric ripping tore straight through my body. My eyes swelled, plagued by the vivid details. They felt so real — too real to be just a dream.
What happened last night?
I bolted back to my bedroom and snatched the dress out of the hamper. My eyes flared as I held it up. My brand-new beautiful dress was nothing more than a tattered rag that stretched from my hands like a horrible hack-job of chain paper-dolls. I was completely dumbstruck. Matte, crusty splotches splattered the dangling strips of black fabric. I pulled a section up to my nose. They smelled metallic and an awful lot like blood. Another unnerving vision surfaced that left me numb to my bones. I was lying on the ground covered in gashes and bleeding profusely. The next thing I knew, I’d lost my grasp on the dress and it was now back in the hamper.
What the heck is going on? Why was I running through the woods? It couldn’t be my blood. I don’t have a scratch on me.
In a frantic fit for answers, I whipped off my pajamas (that I didn’t even remember putting on last night) and threw on a pair of jeans, along with the first sweatshirt I could find. As I fumbled with my socks and sneakers, I looked out my bedroom window. My eyes exploded with disbelief. A thick coat of glisteni
ng white snow blanketed e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g in sight. There had to be a good eight inches out there.
My head fell against the window frame. When did THAT freaking happen?
Granted the winter wonderland was downright staggering, but nowhere near as startling as the cars I spied parked outside. Samuel’s Jeep was out there, which was no real surprise, but the two City of Welch’s police cruisers and what looked like Dr. Albert Whitley’s silver Mercedes-Benz caught me completely off-guard.
Why in the world are THEY here? THIS EARLY? I wondered as I scrambled to get downstairs.
I landed in the foyer to see Officer Pete Ryan standing in the doorway of the living room. Of all people, I thought. I couldn’t stand him. He was your typical A-hole cop who acted like he was God’s gift to women with his steroid-induced physique and cocky attitude. I’d thought so many times about spitting on his food when he came by the Drive-In. Though my own conscience wouldn’t allow it, I was pretty sure Charlie’s had been a little more liberal in the past, especially since Officer Ryan always demanded his meals be free-of-charge.
He turned at the sound of my footsteps and gave me a look that appeared to be his version of solace. My instincts kicked in, and I immediately prepared for something bad — though how bad, I had no idea.
Officer Ryan mumbled something as I walked past, but I was too focused on what was transpiring in the living room to comprehend what he’d said. Charlotte was sitting on the sofa, my sister on one side and Dr. Whitley on the other. Her face was puffy, and her red swollen eyes looked worse than Chloe’s. Her head rested on Dr. Whitley’s shoulder as he held her in his arms while my sister sat there gently stroking one of her hands. Instantly, my heavy heart sank like an anchor.
Nothing good can come from this scene, I thought in silence. All I wanted to know was, WHERE’S DADDY?
Samuel was talking to Marc Roberts, our Chief of Police, when he finally noticed my entry. He rushed over and hugged me in a way he’d never done before.
What horrible thing could’ve happened to warrant an embrace like this? I couldn’t take not knowing any longer.
“Samuel, where’s Daddy?” I asked cautiously. Samuel never replied. His only response was to squeeze me tighter, which only heightened my alarm. “Sam—Samuel… Wh—Where’s Daddy?” I asked again through a cracking voice, determined to get an answer.
Charlotte let out a few whimpers and then started to wail. I pulled free from Samuel’s grip and stared into his deep brown eyes — his undeniably sad eyes. He didn’t have to say a thing. My body went numb as a horrible dull ache surfaced in the pit of my stomach. The next thing I knew, my floodgates had opened, and tears were pouring from my eyes.
Chief Roberts walked over and gave my hand a soft squeeze. “I’m very sorry, Shiloh. I thought the world of him,” he said somberly.
Charlotte was still sitting on the sofa, being comforted by Chloe. Neither of them looked my way. I was devastated, but they weren’t interested in my feelings at the present time. It just confirmed that with the loss of the only person in this family who truly loved me, I was now officially alone.
Dr. Whitley rose to his feet. “Excuse me, Charlotte. I need to check on Shiloh,” he remarked.
Charlotte whimpered, “But what about ME? I was his wife!” She continued to sob. “Now, I’m no—nobody’s wife!” my mother cried out and then dramatically threw herself against the back of the sofa.
Chloe sprang into action and wrapped her arms around our mother, pulling her into an unwavering embrace. “I’m here for you, Mommy.” Chloe shot an icy-cold stare my way and added, “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together.”
I knew it. Definitely on my own.
Chief Roberts approached Dr. Whitley. “Maybe you should give Charlotte a sedative, Doc?”
Dr. Whitley smiled assuredly. “I already did,” he replied and gave his large black satchel a couple of taps. “She should’ve already started feeling its effects.” The good doctor greeted me with a sympathetic smile and a few pats on my back.
“How are you holding up, Shiloh?” Dr. Whitley inquired.
I ignored his question because I had a more pressing one of my own. I took a deep breath and asked, “How did he . . . die?” A nauseous wave rolled through my stomach as soon as I spoke that haunting, three-letter word. Samuel placed his arm around me straightaway and gave me a firm squeeze. And regretfully, this was the first time one of his special hugs couldn’t make a dent in my mood.
Dr. Whitley cleared his throat and composed himself in a more professional manner. “It appears Caiden must’ve had a heart attack or possibly a stroke last night,” Dr. Whitley replied. “There weren’t any signs of trauma on him, so the police have ruled out any foul play. I’m sure he went quick and didn’t suffer.”
I walked over to the fireplace and stared at the crackling flames. As I watched them dance and flicker along the logs, I recalled seeing something burning last night, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Dr. Whitley and Samuel were calling my name, but I was too busy piecing together last night’s events to acknowledge them.
“Who found him?” I asked listlessly.
“I did,” Officer Ryan spoke up. “He looked to have been that way for a while . . . at least five or six hours. I found him this morning around 4:30 AM, when I was on patrol. I saw his truck from the road and went to check on him, what with that freak snowstorm we had last night. He must’ve been putting something in the bed of his truck when it happened.”
My eyes widened as I focused in on the flames. I caught a glimpse of my father convulsing while his veins pulsated against the surface of his skin. They were a strange bluish color — too intense to be natural. Daddy was grimacing, and I noticed a set of matching blue handprints fading on his neck. I remembered it perfectly, just as if it had happened merely a few short seconds ago.
I spun around to Officer Ryan. “What about the handprints on his neck? How can you be so sure there wasn’t any foul play? Someone had to have made them! How else would they have gotten there?” I countered.
The entire room came to an abrupt halt. Even Charlotte stopped sniveling and formally acknowledged my presence with a strange expression. Both officers looked at each other oddly and then back over to me with a fixed stare of confusion. In fact, everyone had that same look. It was evident. They all thought I was certifiably insane.
“There weren’t any marks, of any kind around his neck,” Officer Ryan rebutted, casting a scornful look my way.
Chief Roberts was next to chime in. “I was close by and got there within a few minutes. We didn’t see anything on Caiden’s neck or anywhere else on his body for that matter,” the Chief added, defending his fellow officer and trying to put my delusional doubts to rest.
“But I SAW the blue handprints!” I lashed out at both of them. “They were around his neck! The horrid look in his eyes . . . Even the amount of pain he was in! His veins were popping out of his skin. It wasn’t natural! Someone did SOMETHING to him!” Their lack of competence as investigators had grated my last nerve. I wanted answers, and I was determined to get them.
Samuel and Dr. Whitley looked puzzled. “Shiloh, you were there?” Samuel asked.
“Yes, I was there! I was in the bed of the truck . . . holding his hand. He was dying right there in front of me!” My body rocked into a tremble as my mind relived the agonizing moments all over again. I suddenly remembered the tracks I’d seen coming out of the mine. “What about the tire tracks someone left in the parking lot?” I snapped at Officer Ryan. Surely their “keen” detective skills would have picked up on that observation.
“There weren’t any tracks!” Officer Ryan barked. “The entrance and parking lot were untouched. No one had been in or out of there. The only tracks were the one’s I made when I got there and then the Chief’s a few minutes later!”
The Chief rushed over to Officer Ryan. “Now Pete, don’t get s
o worked up,” he scolded. “It’s obvious she’s in shock or possibly had a bad dream last night.”
“A bad dream?” I raged. “Your police work is the only BAD DREAM I wish I could wake up from! I know what I saw! I was there, dammit!”
“LISTEN HERE, SHILOH!” Charlotte bellowed as she jumped to her feet. “I’ll not have you cursing like that in my house!” She sashayed over to Chief Roberts and placed her hands on his chest. Charlotte halted her crocodile tears long enough to rake me over the coals some more. “These officers have been so courteous to us this morning and have done their job above and beyond their duties.” Charlotte ran her fingers through her over-processed hair and threw both lawmen one of her award-winning smiles from her pageant days.
I pushed my way through the room and leaned into my mother’s face, feeling nothing short of livid.
“You can save those fake tears for my father. He wouldn’t want you to cry for him,” I grumbled. “Oh, and by the looks of it, you sure don’t need the added wrinkles from them anyway!”
Charlotte’s hand flew up without delay, and in less than a second, she swiftly smacked it across my cheek. But the funny thing about it, my head stayed perfectly in place. Even stranger, it only felt like a light breeze had caressed the side of my face. Charlotte, on the other hand, had a much different account. She squealed out an agonizing scream and was now hunched over, clutching her wrist.
I tuned out her theatrical display. I was more interested in the image that had popped up when her hand struck my cheek. I was lying in my father’s truck, and I’d just gotten backhanded — but it wasn’t by Charlotte. I couldn’t quite tell who it was. I started rubbing the side of my face, remembering how painful it was when it had happened last night. I awoke from my daze to hear Dr. Whitley announcing that Charlotte’s hand was most likely broken.
“ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?” my mother cried. “YOU BROKE MY HAND!”
Unconsciously, I rubbed my hand down my cheek as I stared at her swollen mitt. I still didn’t feel any pain.
Dr. Whitley examined the side of my face. “Shiloh, you don’t seem to have a mark on you,” he said, befuddled. “Not one mark at all.”
I brushed away his hand. Charlotte continued to rant, milking all the extra attention for everything it was worth — though the eloquent words Ms. First-Runner-Up was popping out would have made the foulest-mouthed trucker blush.
“Shiloh, why’d you go and do a thing like that to your mother? On all possible days?” Officer Ryan barked. “She’s been through enough this morning!”
In an angry fit of total disbelief, I started pacing around the room, grunting uncontrollably and arms swinging about mechanically. “ME? Why did ‘I’ do that to ‘HER’? Especially today?” I scowled at Officer Ryan and shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding!” Before I knew it, the smartass in me had taken over and out came, “Well, it is my birthday — I thought I would go ahead and give myself a present this year.”
Samuel rushed to my side and gave me a scrutinizing stare. “Shiloh? What’s going on with you, honey?” If his warm brown eyes weren’t filled with enough heartfelt worry, his concern was more than evident from every line trenched on his weathered face.
My raging emotions were making me antsy, so I pulled away from him. “I’m fine, Samuel. I’m just FINE!” More tears welled in my eyes. “I just learned that my father’s dead, by a supposed ‘heart attack’ or a ‘stroke’ — which I don’t buy for a second . . . My mother is over there fussin’ about her hand that she broke by hitting my face . . . And now a cop is telling me how I should be ashamed of myself . . . Yeah, I’m really fine, Samuel . . . Everything’s all sunshine & lollipops!” I shouted.
My body dropped to the floor faster than the tears falling from my eyes. Automatically, I lowered my head and wrapped my arms around my knees, curling up into a ball, right in the middle of the living room floor.
I overheard the Chief suggesting to Dr. Whitley that, “Giving me a sedative might be in order.”
I wiped my eyes and glowered at them. “I don’t need anything! Just leave me ALONE!” I snapped.
“Give her one!” Charlotte insisted, throwing in her two-cents. “I don’t know what she’s capable of in the state she’s in!”
I noticed that Dr. Whitley had already drawn a syringe from a vial he’d retrieved from his medical bag. I whipped my head around towards Charlotte and sharpened my glare.
“Better yet, take her in and lock her up!” Charlotte urged. “I would hate for Chloe to be an orphan by the end of the day.”
In that one random second, eighteen years of nastiness came to a full and fateful head. That did it… I sprang to my feet and charged like an angry bull towards Charlotte, only to be restrained by both Chief Roberts and Officer Ryan.
Dr. Whitley grabbed my arm. “Hold her steady while I stick her,” he hollered, sounding a bit winded.
As soon as I felt the cold swipe of the alcohol pad hitting my skin, I knew what was going to happen next. These idiots are hell-bent on sedating me! A small stream of medicine shot out of the syringe as Dr. Whitley readied his aim. He attempted a swift enough stab, but in a strange stroke of luck, the long needle broke without even penetrating my skin.
“Keep her down, guys,” Dr. Whitley called out. “I’ll draw another one.” He drew the second needle even quicker than the first. “Damn,” I heard him mutter under his breath. “This one broke, too.” He started to grab another syringe from his bag when I wiggled free from both officers’ clutches. I immediately sprang to my feet and turned towards the door.
Officer Ryan grabbed hold of my ankle. Instinctively, I kicked my leg sideways to break free. My mouth dropped open when I looked back to see the cocky policeman flying across the living room — just before he crash-landed into Charlotte’s curio cabinet. I stood paralyzed by the sight him rolling around the base of the cabinet, covered in fragments of glass and cheap wine.
My mouth fell open. Oh CRAP…
Chief Roberts appeared equally as stunned by what he had witnessed — one of his best and brawniest officers had just been taken down by an eighteen-year-old girl.
“Shiloh! Now, you need to calm down!” Chief Roberts insisted, sounding just as shaky as he looked. “Just let us help you do that.”
“I’m fine. I think you guys are the one’s who need to take it down a notch,” I called back, taking a defensive stance.
Charlotte ran over to Chief Roberts waving Officer Ryan’s stun gun that had fallen onto the floor. “HERE! Use this!” my mother demanded.
My eyes rocked into a disbelieving glare.
Chief Roberts seemed apprehensive. “I can’t do that to Shiloh, Charlotte. Put that thing down!” he ordered. Thankfully Samuel hurried over and snatched it right out of my mother’s hand.
“I’m leaving now!” I announced as I stormed towards the door. I looked back to see Chief Roberts charging at me. Again, my reflexes took hold as I threw up my arms and then pushed forward to block his grasp. As soon as his body hit my hands, the force of the blow miraculously catapulted Chief Roberts straight into the staircase with a rackety “CRASH”. He’d taken out most of the lower banister and then rolled down the steps in a stupor. I gasped at the sight of a second officer down in my house — by my hands.
I grasped the knob and flew out the front door. Samuel was calling my name as I slammed it shut, but I couldn’t stay. I had to get out of here. My car keys were up in my room, so I had no choice but to run—anywhere—just to flee the aggravating scene inside and the nightmare that had traumatically come to life.
An ominous roar of thunder rolled throughout the mountainside, and the clouds crackled violently with sporadic flashes of light. Then not a second later, rain began pouring from the turbulent sky. “Cats and dogs” would have been an understatement. The torrential rainfall was starting to wash away the snow at an uncanny rate. With no keys and nowhere else to go, I hop
ped off the porch and started off down our road, heading around the mountain. I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going. Several cars had to swerve out of my path. The drivers screamed out a few obscenities as I bolted down the road. The maddening sound of their horns were blaring in my head, so I blindly veered off the street and raced into the woods to drown them out.
Thunder continued to rumble as the harsh, chilly raindrops steadily pelted my skin. I ran as hard and as fast as I could, needing to escape from everything. I was like a ticking time bomb, and my emotions were acting as the detonator. Charlotte’s wicked tongue… People who didn’t believe me (as well as giving me crazy looks)… And the inescapable feeling that I had witnessed my father’s death and for some unknown reason, couldn’t or wouldn’t help him… Those were the thoughts coursing through my head like a spark and searing its way along a fuse with no end in sight.
It wasn’t long before the snow had completely disappeared from the surrounding landscape, though the rain kept beating down and showed no signs of letting up. I carried on at my current pace for a few more minutes, at least until I slipped on some wet leaves while trying to dodge a large tree that had popped up out of nowhere. I tumbled down a hill and came to a stop by the side of a road. I rolled over on the wet ground, covered in freshly fallen leaves and dirt, and then looked up at the dismal autumn sky. I lay there, trying to see if the rain could wash away all the teardrops staining my face. I wished they could somehow cleanse my emotions and allow me not to feel a single thing. The pain in my heart was too agonizing to bear.
The sound of a car barreling down the road alerted my ears. Though I ran the risk of being run over if it hydroplaned and skidded in my direction, I didn’t move an inch. There on the cold wet ground, I listened to the water channeling through the tires as it approached. And in that one abysmal moment, I didn’t care if it hit me, not one little bit. A corpse couldn’t feel anything — certainly not shame and especially not any grief.
The car came to a slow stop beside me. I didn’t need to look over, not after I’d noticed the flashing blue and red lights revolving in the air around me. Perfect… I guess when you waylay two of Welch’s finest you become an instant outlaw. I still didn’t know how I was able to do that to them. I’d just passed it off as an adrenaline rush, possibly fueled by my volatile emotional state. Then again, maybe Welch’s finest weren’t so fine after all?
The next thing I knew, a West Virginia State Trooper was standing over me. He was throwing on his rain poncho as he kneeled beside me.
“Miss? Are you okay?” the trooper asked.
I figured I’d better play a little nicer with this officer of the law.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied. “I was jogging, and I slipped.”
The trooper immediately helped me to my feet. “You know, you could get run over out here by the road, Miss. You need to be more careful,” he advised.
I purposely sought out the name engraved on the badge of his uniform. “Yes, Officer Burks. I’ll be more careful,” I assured him and then started knocking a few wet leaves off my jeans.
Trooper Burks nodded and smiled. He acknowledged the horrible weather with a tilt of his head while the raindrops smacked the plastic cover stretched over his wide-brimmed hat. “You’re not really dressed for a run, at least not in this kind of weather. Can I give you a lift to your house? A young lady really shouldn’t be out here all alone.” He shook his head and carried on with his stern, but courteous chastising. “I wouldn’t like it if my daughter was out in the middle of nowhere running around on a terrible day like today. Does your father know you’re out here?”
I lowered my head to keep him from seeing my quivering bottom lip. “No, Sir . . . He sure doesn’t,” I muttered, staring at the repetitive patterns of the raindrops as they struck the ground.
“Well lucky for him, I came along. Come on. I’ll take you home.” The tall, yet intimidating officer led me over to his cruiser and opened the passenger-side door. Once inside, he grabbed a couple of towels for me to dry off with and handed me a warm blanket.
“Okay, Miss. Where do you live?” Trooper Burks inquired as he cranked up the engine.
“A left at the fork . . . the one just up from the mine,” I instructed as I began to towel dry my drenched locks.
“Claybourne Mine?” Trooper Burks asked curiously.
“No,” I answered somewhat surprised by the crazy assumption the trooper had made. Why on earth would he think that? His question was oddly amusing, but I decided to correct him, respectfully. “No, Sir. Riverside Pocahontas Mine. You know . . . on Highway 52?”
“Okay, Miss,” Trooper Burks replied, his head shaking as he looked to see if it was clear to pull onto the road. He paused for a moment and turned to me. “Just how long have you been running this morning?” he asked with a curious chuckle.
“Not long,” I replied. What a weird question, I thought to myself as I tugged on my seatbelt. I glanced down at my watch. It’s only a quarter to seven. I just left the house fifteen minutes ago, if that… I smiled back at the officer, clicked my belt into its buckle, and turned to look out the window as we pulled onto the road. My eyes lit up and a sinking feeling left me breathlessly gutted when I spotted a road sign just a few feet in front of us. It read,
