Page 16 of Head Room
But I was right about it not giving me answers.It had, however, given me additional questions.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As I headedfor my SUV, I made sure to skirt the outer ring of police tape.I didn’t want to be shown inside the tape on video we shared with the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department.
I’d nearly drained the mini bottle of water from my SUV when another vehicle pulled up behind ours.
It was a white pickup.That wasn’t particularly notable, since that’s the most common vehicle/color combo in Wyoming.
Trucks lose their gloss fast on ranches and this was no exception, but it was well-tended for its age.
A young woman emerged from the driver’s seat, holding a paper grocery bag flattened to her chest, with both arms protectively crossed over it.
“I remember you,” she said by way of a greeting.
After years of being on TV news, I’ve acquired a knack for telling who meant they recognized me from TV.
This woman wasn’t one of those.
And now that I looked at her more closely, I remembered her, too.
What threw me off initially was that her most notable characteristic when we’d previously encountered her was no longer apparent.
She’d been very pregnant then.She no longer was.
“Hannah Chaney,” I said.
She smiled quickly, then winced.
I take that back about the notable characteristic not being apparent.Rather, it had detached from her and established itself as a separate entity, currently caterwauling from inside the vehicle.
A small human visible in the backward-facing baby seat in the cab’s second row...
Not a babe in arms anymore, I realized.
I’d been in the vicinity at the birth, though Wayne Shelton delivered the baby.A girl.
Hannah’s wince coincided with an acceleration in the caterwauling through the open truck windows.
But the mother steadfastly remained focused on me.
Likely the result of experience with the caterwauling.
“Uh-huh.I was wondering...could I talk to you?”
You already are.Teeth impressions on my tongue kept me from saying that.Instead, I echoed her, “Uh-huh.”
“Thank you.I, uh...”More caterwauling.
Now that she had my permission to talk to me, Hannah appeared more distracted by the noise.
Belatedly, I recognized a single, repeated syllable.
Mamamamamamamamamamama.
Hannah took a couple steps toward her vehicle, then checked back to see if I was escaping.
I wasn’t.In fact, I shuffled a few steps in the same direction.
