37. Annabelle
Annabelle
M y hands wring the white sheets as I sit in the cold hospital bed, feeling like I’m being interrogated.
“I have sent a unit out to the farm to test your soil,” Tony, our local sheriff, says, and while I’ve known him for years, I feel exposed, raw, and nervous about having people on my land, especially when I’m not there.
“Okay.” I swallow and nod. Kevin sits on my bed next to me. We’re both finally able to keep water down after having the worst stomach cramps I’ve ever had.
“But I don’t use any weed killer on my land…
” I reiterate, looking at the three men standing before me.
They all walked into my room this morning to inform me that Kevin and I ingested weed killer.
It’s the most insane theory I could think of, given we’ve never had it on the farm in the whole time I’ve managed it.
The sheriff looks at Hudson, who looks at Sawyer, and I know there’s something they’re not telling me.
“I know you don't,” Sawyer says, and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s in full professional mode. Still in his suit from yesterday, he hasn’t had any sleep. The man just saw me vomiting for twelve hours straight, and the fact that he’s still here is a miracle.
“So why do you need to test?” I’m confused about all of this.
“Annabelle…” Sawyer starts briefly, looking at Kevin before looking back at me. “You mentioned some weird things have been happening out at the farm.”
I look at my son, swallowing my fear.
“Tell ’em, Ma,” Kevin encourages me with scared eyes.
“You're safe now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Sawyer steps forward and grabs my hand, giving me a squeeze. I feel his protection, his support. Kevin’s almost pleading with me with his gaze, and I close my eyes and I take a deep breath before I tell them everything.
I tell them about the cut locks and ropes, I tell them about the slashed tire.
I tell them about the ruined crops, the fear I live in daily, and I feel Sawyer’s anger radiating off him with every mention I make.
Hudson looks deeply concerned, and the sheriff writes down all the details with a deep furrow in his brow.
“You’ve been dealing with all that on your own?” Hudson asks, sounding in disbelief.
“Wasn’t anyone around to help… until now.”
Sawyer lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, his hold on me tight.
“It all feels a little random to me. When all these incidents took place, was there anything going on that may have set them off?” the sheriff asks, and I shake my head, not thinking of anything.
“They all happened after Sawyer came,” Kevin speaks up, and I take in a sharp breath of realization as Sawyer’s head snaps up, looking at Kevin.
“What do you mean?” Sawyer asks, and Kevin looks at me for permission. I nod, giving it to him to continue.
“Well… Sawyer turned up with the paperwork for Ma the first time, and the next day, the ropes on the shed were cut.”
I nod. He’s right, they were.
“Then he came back after my first baseball game and had dinner. After that was when the tire got slashed.” I hold my breath. I didn’t see any of it.
“When you came for dinner the second time, that was when I hit my head in the shed,” I say, putting some pieces together now.
“After you stayed over the field was all shredded,” Kevin adds, and I look at my boy, wondering how he got so smart.
“Then you stayed at my place on the weekend, and you were poisoned,” Sawyer grits out. The room tenses, the motivation for all this unknown, but new dots connecting.
“This has all happened because of me.” Sawyer looks at the sheriff, who nods. His jaw is tight, and he won’t look at me as a mix of guilt and deep remorse settles in his expression.
“No…” I shake my head. It’s my farm, it’s my problem. He can’t take this on as his issue. He drops my hand quickly, like it now burns him, and I curl my hands together, clutching the sheets, my palms now sweating.
“No, that’s not it. It's just a coincidence.” I’m panicking. It isn’t his fault, and he can’t take this on. But I see that he is. The warm, caring man I’ve come to know now feels a little distant as he takes this all on his shoulders, bearing all responsibility.
“There’s a connection, that much is obvious.
Sawyer, why don’t you come down to the station, and we can talk in more detail.
If this is a connection to you, I’ll need to investigate all possible leads, see if there’s anything here trying to harm Annabelle and the kids because of your history or past,” the sheriff says, and I see the murderous look on Sawyer’s face, all aimed at himself.
“Sawyer…” I go to grab his hand.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.” Sawyer still doesn’t look at me. My heart breaks.
“This isn’t your fault.” I implore him to understand.
“Can you think of anyone in your life, Annabelle, who would be keen to bring harm to you and your boys?” the sheriff asks, and I stutter. I think, I really do.
“What about Stanley? I heard he was an issue at the bar the other night?” Hudson says, and all I can do is shrug.
“I’ve got no idea, but maybe…?” I look at the sheriff, wondering what his thoughts are. I haven’t seen Stanley in years until the other night, and we’ve lived in the same town without him doing anything like this.
“I’ll interview him as well. See if he has an alibi,” he says, writing down another note.
“He would have weed killer,” I add quickly.
“Most people around here do,” the sheriff mentions, and I deflate, knowing there’s no evidence to link anyone to this at all.
“I’ll meet you out front,” the sheriff says to Sawyer before he leaves, Hudson following him.
“Sawyer?” I’m desperate for him to look at me, and he finally does.
“I don’t think I have any enemies who would hate me enough to follow me to Whispers and bring harm to you and the boys, but if I do, I will never forgive myself.” There’s indescribable pain in his eyes, and mine start to water.
He leans forward, kissing my forehead before scuffing Kevin's hair.
“You did good, Kev. Real good. Now look after your ma for me, okay? I might be a while.”
Kevin nods, and we both watch the man we love walk out the door, wondering if we’ll see him again soon, having no idea what can of worms we just opened.