her emotions that she realized she needed to call the authorities. “The phone, where did I leave that damn phone?” questioning herself out loud. The sound of her voice seemed to offer some degree of comfort and safety. Her mind shot scenarios at her faster than she could compute them but one stood out more than the others. “What if he’s still in the house? WHAT IF HE’S STILL IN THE HOUSE!”
“Got to get the police and get out of here,” she continued to talk to herself. She suddenly remembered seeing the phone near the sink after she’d showered. Without hesitating she quickly made her way back to her bedroom, peering into the laundry room and spare bedroom as she passed, hoping not to see anything out of the ordinary, and she didn’t. The phone was next to the sink as she had thought. Rapidly she dialed 911 and waited trying to contain her breathing, feeling a bit light headed.
There was an answer at the other end, “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?”
Now whispering as not to alert an intruder if he was, in fact, still inside the home, “Someone broke into my house and I’m not sure if he’s still here, son of a bitch stacked my chairs on my table,” Katie slowly started back down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Excuse me, he did what?” the operator seated inside the Lowndes County Sheriff’s Office inquired.
“He piled my kitchen chairs on the table like a pyramid thingy. I need some help, please send somebody!”
“I’ve got officers responding; please confirm your address for me, okay. Stay on the line, don’t do anything but stay on the phone with me. Is he still in the house?” she asked firmly.
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t dare look around. What do I do if he’s here?” tearfully whispered the terrified woman back into the receiver.
“Listen to me, is this Katherine Criddle?” no reply. “Katherine, you with me, don’t leave the phone, are you with me?” the operator said forcefully, trying to keep the victim’s attention.
“Yeah, I’m here, I’m so scared, please help me, please send somebody!” she sobbed into the phone; tears running incessantly down her cherry cheeks.
“Okay Katherine, I want you to get out of the house, can you do that? I want you to get to the front door and get out of there and wait for the officers in the street. You hear me? Get out of there now!”
“Okay, okay I can see the front door from here,” she said, moving toward the living room and her escape.
“No, No, No! Please no! Why me? I… I… I ……” Screaming,then silence. The 911 operator listened. Nothing.
“Katherine! Mrs. Criddle what’s happened? Can you hear me?” She pressed her ear firmly to the headset, trying to draw any possible response from the petrified woman. Then she heard it, very faint, very light, but the unmistakable sound of someone breathing, almost snoring, coming from within the living room of 412 Big Buck Circle.
The operator, knowing that only one Sheriff’s Unit was available to respond, called upon the help of the Valdosta PD and emergency fire and ambulance crews to assist as well. Multiple squad cars and emergency vehicles from the county and city were soon rushing to aid the victim, her circumstances unknown.
At the same time the 911 operator was scrambling help to Katherine’s location, Blanche was standing in the shade of one of the larger trees populating the grounds of the old library, having an early morning banter with Mr. Marcus. Suddenly, they saw the first squad car speed through the intersection, lights and sirens blaring, sending pedestrians running for the safety of the sidewalks.
“Whoa, what’s that about?” Marcus hollered above the sounds of the sirens. Blanche shrugged her shoulders, thinking of the next barb she might send his way, when a second unit roared past the two, again with lights and sirens going.
“Quite a bit of excitement for little old Valdosta this morning, eh Marcus? You forget to turn off your stove after you brewed your coffee or something?” she jokingly put forth.
“Now that you mention it, the Mrs. said something about mowing the lawn this morning, hope she didn’t cut her foot off or anything. Don’t think the insurance will cover that,” he replied sarcastically.
A couple of miles away the students on the college campus were also alarmed at the number of sirens they were hearing.
“Must be quite the emergency, sounds like the entire force is on the move this morning,” Seymour said to the cute freshman, standing with him just outside the athletic department.
He’d just finished his morning workout and shower when he’d heard the commotion and hustled outside to see what was afoot.
She adoringly looked up at the older, more experienced college student, batted her eyes a few times and replied.“ Maybe there’s some crazy person on campus running around with a gun or something. Might be safer if we go to my dorm room and wait this little emergency out.”
The innuendo and offer were totally lost on Seymour who took a few steps closer in the direction of the noise and inferred, “No, don’t think this is a campus issue, sounds are moving away from downtown rather than coming toward us.”
The young lady, disappointment showing on her face, pulled her book and binder to her chest, rocked herself from the waist up and said in childish tone, “Won’t you at weast walk me to my next cwass, I’m a wittle sceawwed?”
Seymour turned to address the persistent young lady when the sound of another siren caught his ear, this one moving quickly in their direction. She advanced the couple of steps to join Seymour at his side, ran a hand between his side and arm and pulled his bicep to her breast and laid her head against his shoulder, appreciating the bulge that was there. More students filled the empty spaces around the two as the sounds approached. Questions filled the air in shouted tones to get above the sound of the multiple sirens.
The freshman, lost in the thrill of holding the older student so close, forgot about the possible threat at hand, and nuzzled her face against Seymour who seemed unaware of her affections. Within a moment or two an ambulance could be seen weaving its way between stalled traffic, working its way down the main boulevard, followed closely behind by a fire engine, lights reflecting off the buildings and sirens screaming. The group of students, including Seymour with the cute student latched on, surged to the street in an effort to get a better view and postulate what might be happening. To the relief of the young lady the emergency vehicles advanced beyond the college and raced toward their ultimate destination.
“Good crap, are they ever in a hurry. What could they be up to this early in the morning?” Seymour said, more to himself than to anyone in particular.
“Well, I surely don’t know, but I’d sure like to spend some more time with you this morning,” she said, pulling his arm close and rubbing it suggestively against her clad bosom. Once she’d gotten his attention and she could see that he was looking directly into her eyes, she continued, “If you know what I mean?” winking.
“Oh, yeah, I mean no, really I’d love to hang out with you for awhile this morning but I’ve got a project I’ve got to get together and need to hit the library before my noon class,” he tripped over his tongue but he was sure she’d gotten the message.
“You sure? I think I can make it worth your while,” she said; in her best Southern drawl in a final attempt to sway her crush.
“I really appreciate the offer; maybe another day.” Pulling him away from her grasp and waving as he jogged toward the library, Blanche foremost on his mind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A light breeze swayed the limbs of the old oak tree just outside the second story window of Blanche’s room. Spanish moss hung in great sheets from the angled branches, some extending almost to the ground, casting spider web like shadows on the bedspread upon which Blanche lay. The fleeing sunlight, all but gone for the day, Blanche lay meditating, as she always did upon completing a novel, absorbing the full impact and importance of the words that had so touched her soul over these past two weeks. She loved a book that could pull her into the pages and make her a part, as had
The beating of her heart could be felt, her hand resting there, her eyes closed, lost in the story, mingling it
