Puzzle Pieces

Chapter 16

"Hey mom? Can I talk to you?" I asked after knocking slightly on the door and peeking it open.

"Yeah, sure. What is it, Annabel?" she asked, sitting on the bench in front of her bed while she took off her shoes.

"So...I have to go down to the sheriff's department," I said, making my mom's eyes grow wide.

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...don't get too upset, but um...I kind of went to talk to Mrs. Peterson today."

"You did WHAT?!"

"Only to tell her about my dream. Point her in the right direction, but since the Lieutenant was there, he told the sheriff and the sheriff came to see me. Only to ask me to go downtown so I could talk to a sketch artist."

"Annabel, I cannot believe you. How could you go bother that woman after a dream that you had? Didn't you tell me that it was just a dream? What in the world would make you think it would be a good idea to go and bother that poor woman!" she said, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Sorry mom. I just, I keep having these dreams. I know that I told you it was just a nightmare, but I also feel like it may be more. I want to help if I can, so I need you to take me to the sheriff's department so I can talk to the sketch artist," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. She slowly shook her head at me, but put her shoes back on.

"Let's go," she said through tight lips. She stood up and grabbed her coat.

"Noah, Anna and I will be back in a while. We have to go to the sheriff's department," my mom called, walking into the living room.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Physically, we’re okay. Mentally, I have no idea what is going on with your sister. She hasn’t been making a lot of good choices lately,” she answered, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I wanted to shrink back, away from her. I couldn’t do that though. Not when we’re so close. I looked at Noah, who gave a shrug.

“We’ll be back in a bit. Lock up and, please, try not to do anything crazy. I can’t handle much more of this,” mom said before walking out of the door.

"Alright mom" he said with a nod before turning and walking back to his room.

The drive to the sheriff's department was a quiet one. Not sure if my mom was still angry or just tired, but either way, it was not comfortable. After she parked in the small parking lot, we got out of the car and walked in.

"Can I help you?" a receptionist said, looking up from her desk. She had been writing something on a sheet of paper.

"Sheriff Silverman asked me to come in," I said, stepping up to the desk. My mom crossed her arms and tapped her foot, but didn’t look at me. Yep. She’s still angry.

"Name please. What is this in regards to?" The Receptionist asked, raising her eyebrows in slight surprise.

"Annabel James. He told me I needed to speak with a sketch artist," I responded, pasting a nervous smile on my face.

“Oh, I'll see if I can find him for you," The Receptionist said, picking up her phone. She dialed a number then began whispering into it. After a few seconds, and nods later, she hung the phone up, giving me a fake smile."He'll be right with you."

I turned and looked at my mom, who leaned her head to one side. She turned and walked to some chairs that were against the wall in front of the receptionist’s desk. I followed behind her, but before I got to sit down I heard Sheriff Silverman say my name.

"Annabel? Mrs. James, good to see you. Will you both follow me this way?" he said, waving us over to him. We both started walking towards him and as we approached he turned and walked down a narrow hall to a room where a man sat at a table.

"Charlie? Annabel here is going to give you a description to a case that we're investigating. Annabel, any little thing that you can think of with this man will help, so tell Charlie here everything you remember. Something as simple as a mole on the face can help us narrow down the suspect list, okay?"

"Okay, Sheriff Silverman," I said with a nod. My mom and I started walking to the chairs in front of the table across from Charlie the sketch artist, but Sheriff Silverman stopped my mom.

"Mrs. James? Can I speak with you outside in the hall for a moment?"

"Doesn't the sketch artist need my permission to sketch my daughter’s description?"

"No, but this will only take a minute," he said with a laugh. My mom looked at me a little worried, but did as the Sheriff said and walked out with him. I continued to walk to the chair and sat down. Charlie, the Sketch Artist, looked from his late twenties to early thirties. He's thin and looks like he's tall. He has tan-ish skin and long dark brown hair that is kind of spiked up. He also has dark brown eyes behind thick black framed glasses.

"Alright, so...Let's start with the face," Charlie the Sketch Artist said with a polite smile.

"Okay, umm. He has somewhat deep, dark brown, almost black, eyes. His eyebrows are thick and arched, but not like Oscar the grouch or anything. He has a mole that's on his forehead near his right temple. He has a nose that's a little pointy, but thick in width. He has thin black framed glasses and thin lips. They're a little shaped, but not too much considering how thin they are.

He has short, thin, black hair and a bald spot on the crown that's just beginning. His chin is square, but thin. Almost pointy looking. His ears are a little big, but not like dumbo or anything. His skin is fair toned to pale. He doesn't really have any more noticeable moles besides the one I told you about. He's tall, but his body isn't very big. It's pretty normal for a man. Every time that I've seen him, he has always been in a suit. Like he would work on Wall Street or something. Other than that, I think that's it," I said with a smile. Because of the nightmares, I know exactly what he looks like.

"Okay. Now I liked your description of his face. Pretty strong in detail. The height? How tall do you think he would be?" Charlie the sketch artist said, still scribbling on his sketch pad.

"Um...Taller than my brother Noah, that's for sure. Maybe about six feet five inches, maybe an inch shorter."

"Okay. Weight. You said that he's pretty average. Would that be about two hundred pounds? More? Less?"

"Umm...About two hundred and twenty I would guess. I'm not too sure, but he's not fat. He's just...normal," I answered with a shrug. I don't know how guys tell their weight. I barely keep track of my own weight. The only reason I really have to is because of cheer. Which I will not be a part of anymore thanks to the demerits I just got.

"Okay. Great. Now...Does this look like the man you saw?" Charlie the Sketch Artist said, turning the sketch pad towards me.

When he did, I, again, froze in place. How did the sketch artist capture the man so well? Without being able to say anything, I nodded my head. The sketch artist ripped the page and had me sign a paper stating what I had him draw was an accurate description of a suspect.

"Okay. You're free to go. I'll give this to Sheriff Silverman. Thank you so much for your help," Charlie the Sketch Artist said, getting up from his seat. I stood up too and walked out into the hall looking in both directions for my mom. Without seeing her, I walked towards the front lobby and saw she was standing at the receptionist's desk.

"Ready?" I asked, approaching her.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here," she said, wrapping an arm around me and walking me out of the building.

Once we got outside, I thought she would ask me about the description of the man or even tell me what Sheriff Silverman had to tell her, but she didn't. Instead, she let go of me and walked with her head down to the car.

"Is everything okay?" I asked with hesitation.

"I'm just tired, Anna. It’s been a long day and I just want to go home," she answered, opening the car door. It was a quiet drive back home. Not really a comfortable silence, but since my mom wasn't saying anything past "I'm tired", I had no choice, but to ignore the uncomfortable.

"Hey, you guys are back?" Noah asked when we walked through the house door.

"Obviously," I couldn't help but say. I couldn't help it. Sarcasm is in my nature. Noah tilted his head at me with a look that said "Really?" I just smiled back in return.

"Yes. Now I must go to bed because I do have to work tomorrow. Noah, please try to keep your sister out of trouble. I just had the longest talk with Sheriff Silverman about what she did today," mom said, walking to her room.

WHAT?! The whole car ride home she chooses not to tell me? Instead she chooses to tell Noah and not me? Really?!

"What did he say?" I asked, following her to the room.

“Not now, Anna.”

“Mom, what did he say?” I asked, making her sigh.

"He said that he doesn’t know if he believes you. He would have Charlie draw the photo, but it might not get anywhere. You’ve embarrassed me, Annabel. I don’t even want to look at you right now,” mom said, taking off her shoes. I guess that explains why she hasn’t looked at me much. “He also said he does not want to get involved in his daughter's business, but he will not allow you to harass her. He knows things are complicated with you, but if something is done again he will have no choice, but to punish you," she said in a monotone voice.

More like she doesn't really care. Not sure if she does or she is just tired, but that kind of irritates me. First, I don’t know how I feel about Sheriff Silverman saying my sketch probably won’t do anything. If that’s the case, why have me do it? And as for Leslie, why should I be punished after what she did? She’s the one who had s*x with boys left and right at school. There’s a crime in that, you know? Lewd conduct, for instance.

"Goodnight mom" I said, turning and walking out of her room. I closed the door behind me and walked to my room slowly. Not angry, but kind of hurt that my mom wouldn't defend me. I mean, I really didn't do anything wrong. If Sheriff Silverman taught his daughter to keep her legs closed, we wouldn't have had the problem we had today. And if Katrina hadn’t been kidn*pped or if I didn’t have dreams about it, I wouldn’t have gone to talk to Mrs. Peterson.

I'm in the bank. It's not too crowded right now. Like it's early in the morning or towards the end of the day. I saw Sheriff Silverman and a couple of deputies walk in the door. I know who they're looking for.

I turned and looked in the direction where the man was standing in my other dream. As I did, I saw him standing in front of a chair at a desk. He stiffened up at the sight of law enforcement. Sheriff Silverman stood next to the counter talking to a teller, showing her a sheet of paper. Maybe the sketch I had Charlie the Sketch Artist draw last night? I wanted to run up to the Sheriff and yank him in the direction of the man, but when I looked back at the man to make sure he was still standing there, I'm standing in the spot he was.

I avert my gaze, but I know that there is no way they can know me. They don’t know. They can’t track Katrina to me. No one saw or heard anything. I’ve been careful. Keep it cool. They don’t know. They’re idiots. Plus, I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing can get me in trouble. He thinks innocently. I grabbed a black briefcase and walked briskly to the front door, but not enough to cause any suspicion. As I began to walk out, something caught my attention. Well, not something, someone. My mom. She got out of her car, waved, then walked right up to me with a smile on her face.