See How They Shine

The next morning, the telephone jolted Sadie awake. It was still dark. What time was it? Who could be calling so early? Early morning phone calls could only be bad news. Sadie’s heart rate accelerated while she struggled to escape the duvet that so thoroughly enveloped her. She counted the rings—two, three. She knew she couldn’t make it before the answering machine kicked in, but she hurried anyway. Surely, she thought, it must be Ling calling from the other side of the world. But the voice that spoke from the answering machine wasn’t Ling’s soft, lilting Chinese accent. It was a loud, male voice. “I want it!” he said. “You say to make an offer. I’m offering a hundred dollars and I’m sure I’m the first caller. So call me back. I’ll bring the cash right away. That’s Tony DeMarques. I’m at four-eight-four-one-one-three-five.” Good grief, Sadie thought. I nearly broke a leg for a wrong number. Debating between staying up or going back to bed, she tuned into the worry that had been nagging her for several days. Ling Wang, her invaluable teaching assistant, had gone home to China for a summer visit. Ling’s sister, also a graduate TA at FITT, continued to assure Sadie that Ling was coming back, but fall semester was well under way and Sadie had not yet heard from Ling. Her absence was both a worry and a major inconvenience. Sadie relied on Ling for help in all of the language classes she taught for FITT’s nonnative students. This semester the English as a Second Language (ESL) Department had given Sadie a very odd schedule. Tuesday and Thursday were totally free—a situation that led to frequent requests from colleagues to cover one of their classes. The fact that she paid for the minor miracle of two free days with a horrendous schedule the other three days conveniently escaped anyone’s attention. Wednesdays were especially trying. In the morning, she taught three classes with only a ten-minute break between each one. The first two were in different buildings, a good five-minute walk apart—a significant problem in bad weather. And an inconvenience for any students wanting to ask one last question. Pronunciation Lab at 10 was followed by ESL grammar at 11. At noon, she had drawn the short straw and the non-credit “extra help” seminar for TAs who needed to brush-up their teaching skills. Most needed to work on their English pronunciation as much as syntax. Her hectic Wednesday ended with a required seminar: ESL Writing, a class difficult for both students and teacher. In short, Wednesdays were challenging, both physically and mentally. Without a teaching assistant, they were exhausting. Mondays and Fridays, Sadie had three classes spread awkwardly throughout the day from 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Her last class on Friday afternoon was ill-attended, as Colorado’s glorious mountains beckoned many students to start an early weekend. This necessitated so much review in the Monday session that Sadie was scrambling to figure out if she could somehow truncate the entire course. So, what looked like a luxurious class schedule was, in fact, a near-nightmare that threatened to be more than Sadie could handle if Ling, her TA, didn’t show up soon. The phone rang again. Sadie glanced at the time on her caller ID. Five o’clock in the morning. She decided to let the machine answer this call. It kicked in after the fifth ring, and Tony DeMarques started speaking again. Sadie picked up the receiver. “You’ve got the wrong number.” “No way, sister. Don’t give me that. I’m sure I called first and I want it.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about; please don’t call again.” Sadie hung up. In seconds, the phone rang again. No, Sadie thought. No more. Angry now, she turned the ringer off and headed back to bed grumbling, “What sort of nut calls at five on Saturday morning? Not once, but three times. And, for that matter, what was he calling about?” Sadie hadn’t a clue what the phone calls were about. Exhaustion erased her questions as she settled back into her still-warm duvet cocoon and returned to a sound sleep. Sound until a nightmare took over. A huge bear chased her around and around a pond. She couldn’t get over the fence that surrounded the pond. The bear finally trapped her, and as its fish-laden hot breath enveloped her, Sadie woke up. The stinky breath was still there and, added to it, the heavy panting of a dog ready to go outside. Now! Tiger bounced around the bedroom as Sadie struggled out of bed again. Bigger than his border collie mother, smaller than his hulking Lab father, Tiger was a good-sized dog. Consequently, his morning doggy dance took up much of the available floor space. “Settle,” Sadie said firmly. The dog obediently sat down. As Sadie found her slippers and put on her robe, she told the dog. “No more tuna fish for you. Today, we’ll get you some real dog food.” Understanding only that she was talking to him, Tiger squirmed in anticipation as Sadie headed into the living room to open the door. Once there, she called “Release!” and the dog exploded into action. He ran through the living room and straight out the now-open sliding glass door into the tiny fenced garden. After a quick patrol of the fence line along Arapahoe Avenue, he found his spot and balanced on three legs to begin his morning routine. With Tiger thus occupied, Sadie shut the door and started her own morning routine. Water heating for coffee, paper retrieved from the mat outside her kitchen door, she headed back toward the bedroom. On the way, she noticed the answering machine. Two digits—2-6—blinked steadily. Twenty-six? Really? Twenty-six calls? If Tony De-whatever called me twenty-six times, I’m going to call the police, Sadie thought. Well, maybe not the police exactly, but certainly Mike. She hit the “play” button. Message number one was, indeed, Tony DeMarques again. Sadie pushed “next.” It was an apologetic sounding woman. “Hi, I’m sorry to call so early but I wanted to get my bid in first. I guess I can offer you two hundred. Let me know.” The next call was from the same woman. “Oops, I forgot to tell you who I am. I’m Samantha Allcott. That’s A-double L-cot with two t’s.” The fourth call was Samantha again. Now she sounded really embarrassed. “Omigosh, I forgot the number. I guess it’s too early for me,” she giggled. “My number is ...” Sadie shut her off. Message five was—surprise!—DeMarques again. What is going on? Sadie steadily pushed the “next” button on the recorder. Messages six through twenty-five were more of the same: people offering various sums of money. Some noted the time they called. Some demanded to be called back immediately. Some asked to be called whether theirs was the best offer or not. Call twenty-six was Tony DeMarques yet again. I guess I’m going to have to call one of these people, Sadie thought. But not the insistent Tony DeMarques. No, that confused woman sounds more my speed. Sadie scrolled backward through the messages looking for Samantha Allcott’s third message. She erased the others as she went, absentmindedly turning the ringer back on. Just as Sadie found Samantha’s number, the phone rang again. Snatching up the receiver, Sadie said, “What do I have that you want?” “Well, I’ll have to explain that in person,” a chilly male voice said. “Will ten o’clock work for you?” Something about the voice made Sadie shudder. “No! Of course not!” she protested. “So, when is good?” “No time is good. I’ve had twenty-six calls about this already this morning and I don’t even know what this is....” “Twenty-six calls? This is supposed to be a confidential investigation. How can you have had twenty-six calls about it?” Fear morphing to confusion, Sadie replied, “Confidential investigation? What are you talking about?” “As I said, I’ll tell you when I see you. Now when is that going to be?” Sadie was speechless. What was going on? Who was this guy? Clearly she shouldn’t have answered the phone. She corrected that mistake by hanging up. As soon as she did, the phone r