The note on her ID screen stated, “unavailable”. Star 69 didn’t show a number either. She realized the call could have been made from a throw-away phone.
She carefully wrote, Tuesday, October 24, 8:20 pm on a pad near her phone, and the message the caller had left. She had been in the law enforcement business too long to ignore even a crank call. The note would help her remember when she received the puzzling message. What was she involved in that was none of her business? Why would it be important enough for this unsub (unknown subject) to threaten her and her staff?
Should she report it to the sheriff or wait and talk to Victoria and Herb?
Should she mention it to anyone? What did the caller mean? She decided to wait and discuss it with Victoria and Herb.
Hannah was not easily frightened and felt sure she was safe in her own home. In this case, her mistake was in being too sure of herself. She would regret it later.
The next day she had a call from the veterinarian. “Hannah, my sister’s eight year old daughter lost her dog this week when he ran into the road and was hit by a car. They’ve seen this dog you brought in. My niece has already named him, Soldier because he was wounded in battle.. Do you mind if they take him home and love him?”
“Of course not. I can’t be at home with an animal and it isn’t fair to them. I am so happy that he’ll have a good home and will be wanted and loved. Thank you. I’ll try to find time to get by and visit them and tell them how grateful I am that they’re giving him a good home. He’s a loving dog and will be a good companion for your niece. He’ll also be very protective.”
“Thank you, Hannah. That relieves my mind. I know we spoil my niece, but the dog will have a good home.”
Chapter Three
She yawned broadly and deeply as she stretched her body in every direction she could. Keeping her eyes closed against the surprising morning glare, she stretched again. Snapping her eyes open she recoiled when the clock radio blared “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”. Eight O’clock! Oh, I’ve overslept. Radio?! When did I get a radio?
Sliding a leg from under the covers she was disgusted to discover she was wearing jeans, socks and blouse. Worse yet, the clothes were stiff with blood. Sitting groggily on the side of the bed, and looking at the brownish snake - skin boots she had left at odd places on the floor, she observed that they were also blood stained. One boot was lying over the door sill and the other was under the window at the head of her bed.
Puzzled, she looked around the room. What happened? Where have I been? Where did this blood come from? Am I in trouble some how? Why can’t I remember what happened? Is this my blood?
The unanswered questions only made her dizzy. Dragging herself to the bathroom she hurriedly dropped her clothes in a heap, and standing in front of a full-length mirror, examined her body. No wounds. Thank God the blood isn’t mine. But whose? “Elizabeth Ann Corelli, what in the world have you been up to?” she asked herself. Where am I?
Running the water as hot as she could stand it, she showered and shampooed her hair twice. After drying she slipped into a ankle-length blue silk robe and toe less and back less cotton velour bedroom slippers with a butterfly embroidered on the top of each piece crossing the ball of the foot.
Beth sat on a stool in front of a dresser mirror while using a blow dryer to style her natural curly strawberry -blond hair. It was finally growing out from a bad cut and was now collar length. She wanted it to the top of her shoulder blades. Worried hazel - green eyes looked through long lashes. A smooth, healthy complexion required no cosmetics although a little coral lipstick and a light beige powder were often applied.
Sighing deeply she looked at the completed project and decided it didn’t look too bad. She had never been considered a beauty, but her mouth with a bow in it was always smiling and making people feel good around her. Her chin was a little too pointed on her triangular- shaped face giving her a determined look. An interesting and -- yes-- attractive face. People had always said, “Beth has a charismatic personality.”
A rumbling in her stomach made her aware that she was hungry. Do I eat here or out? She looked around the room not truly recognizing the items in it. Making her way past the guest bedroom she came to a small room on the right better known as a den rather than a living room.
On the left, across from the den, was a small room with a floor to ceiling window. On the right, in front of the window was a drop-leaf table that could be opened to seat six. On the wall, across from the table, was a beautiful oak china cabinet filled with expensive looking dishes.
Straight through was a kitchen. On her left was a stove. Beside it was a side by side refrigerator and by the refrigerator was a small room holding broom, cleaning supplies and a vacuum cleaner. On the right, under a window, was a deep, double sink and cabinets overhead. A dishwasher took the space beside the sink.
Timidly she opened the refrigerator door and found a pitcher of orange juice, eggs, butter, jams, raw carrots, raw cauliflower, a bowl of fresh cut fruit and a loaf of bread. There was a jar of instant coffee and some cans of Diet Coke. Not sure how her stomach would receive much food, Beth decided to just have juice and toast. A four slot toaster sat on one side of the stove. Why does none of this seem familiar to me?
Seated at the table with two pieces of toast, butter, blackberry jam and a can of Coke, she looked out of the window at an unfamiliar scene. Jumping nearly out of the chair she stood up when the ringing phone hanging on the wall between the dining room and the kitchen blared out.
“Hello.” She spoke low.
“Beth? Is that you? Beth? Beth? “The person yelled anxiously.
“Yes.”
“Beth. It’s Connie. Can you hear me? How are you feeling?”
“Do I know you?”
“Beth! Of course you know me. We’re best friends and work together. In fact, you’re in my apartment.”
“Oh. That explains why everything is so strange to me. How did I get here in your apartment?” She was afraid to ask about the blood on her clothes.
“You don’t remember? Oh, I bet you have amnesia.”
“Whatever. I guess I do. Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything except my name?”
“You don’t remember the party last night?”
“Party?”
“We gave a going away party for Crystal. Remember? She’s getting married and is leaving to move to Arizona where her husband is working.”
“No. I don’t remember. How do I know you and Crystal?”
“We work here in the court house in a group of legal secretaries.”
“We do?”
“Sure. You don’t remember the party. Do you remember slapping Malcolm when he whispered something to you? Then you jumped up and ran out and he was right on your heels.”
“Nothing. Why am I here? Where did the blood on my clothes come from? Who is this Malcolm?”
“I had to speak to someone but came after you as quickly as I could. I found you wandering in the parking lot of the Full and Plenty Restaurant. You were covered in blood and couldn’t talk. I didn’t know what had happened or how you got the blood on you. I just put you in my car and brought you home. You were so out of it, and fought me, that I just managed to take off your boots and put you in my bed. I slept on the couch. I called to ask you if you remembered how you got the blood on you.”
“No,”