Gitchie Girl by Phil Hamman

Author:Phil Hamman [Hamman, Phil Hamman && Sandy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: true crime, mass murder, memoir
Publisher: eLectio Publishing
Published: 2016-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Sandra didn’t wait for him to leave. She raced to the front door and bolted it shut behind her. The familiar scent of last night’s fried hamburger with onions still hung vaguely in the air. Had that just been last night? Less than twelve hours ago? She felt as if she’d aged years since then. Sandra pulled back the curtain in the front window and saw the taillights of the pickup fading into the distance. The only sound in the room was the quiet tick tick tick of the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock in the morning. Everyone was asleep.

The fear-induced adrenaline surging through her veins was tempered by the overwhelming need for sleep. She crept upstairs, choosing to wake her brother rather than her mom. She was still confused and unsure of how her mom would respond. “Bob, wake up. Wake up!” she whispered, shaking his shoulder until he was fully awake. As she rolled out the story, it was hard for her to believe the words coming from her own mouth.

“You’ve got to call the police because they don’t sound like real cops.”

“But what if they are and I turn them in?”

“Well, you’ve got to do something!”

“They know where I live! I gave them our phone number.”

“Go get some sleep and think about it.”

Sandra went to her room, propped her pillow against the headboard, and leaned against it, hugging the pillow tightly and letting its familiar scent fill her nostrils. She saw the clock change to six and then to seven. At some point, she drifted into a restless semi-sleep until she bolted awake at nine o’clock. The sun was up, and her mom was already gone.

Ring ring ring ring. Sandra tried calling Roger’s house over and over, but no one answered. Then she tried Debbie. No answer again. She called another friend and finally someone picked up the phone.

Sandra didn’t realize her voice had turned parched and croaky. “Can you come over? It’s really important.” She didn’t give any more details. Her brain was foggy, and she felt nauseated. She desperately needed someone to talk with to help her make decisions. Should she try to find Roger? Should she go to the police? Were they in trouble?

“I’ll come over after church.”

“Can you come now?”

“I wish, but my mom said I have to go today.”

Sandra hung up the phone and called Roger’s house again. After dozens of tries, his mom answered.

“Is Roger home?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Sandra.”

“He hasn’t come home all night. We don’t think he did because I went upstairs this morning to put some clothes in the boys’ room, and he wasn’t there.”

“Do you think he went somewhere? Maybe with Dana?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll check and see if he’s there right now.”

The sound of the receiver being set on a hard surface clanked in Sandra’s ear, and she could hear his mom shouting Roger’s name repeatedly in the background. Then she picked up the receiver again.

“No, he’s not home.”

“Has anybody called?”

“No.”

“If you hear anything, let me know because I’ll call back later.

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