Peter Blank was no longer standing in front of Angela and I. Instead, I saw a tall, middle-aged man wearing a green golfing shirt. It was none other than Mr. Parker. I looked over at Angela. Nothing about the man had changed for her, apparently. I rubbed my eyes thoroughly and looked back up. Mr. Parker was still standing there. Peter Blank was gone for now.
Lately, nothing was making sense. Things were switching around everywhere, from the floor in my room to the next-door neighbor’s house. I looked at what had been Peter’s house. Now it was in perfect upkeep with a gorgeous lawn and plenty of flowerbeds. The sound of a car engine interrupted my confusion.
I looked back to our driveway and saw my father pulling in. That was just what I needed. Now I had an excuse to leave Angela and Mr. Parker and head inside to wait for the police. I stood up without a word, leaving Angela and Mr. Parker to chat, and headed for the front door. As I went up to it I noticed that the door once again had the outline of a cut around its door handle. How was that possible? When I had departed for my walk earlier, the door had been repaired.
I heard my father come in through the back door. Luckily he hadn’t found it ajar. I tried to move toward the stairs, but then my father called me into the kitchen. He needed help unloading groceries. Sighing as I traveled into the kitchen, I only got to the first bag before I heard sirens coming down our street. They stopped at what I could tell was our house. I tried not to show any discomfort, and I successful. I looked at my father. He seemed slightly concerned, and he left the room. I anxiously followed him out.
“What do you think it is?” I asked as my father approached the front door.
“I don’t know,” he said, and then he noticed that the door was still broken. “Didn’t the repairman come today?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. The door had been fixed earlier today, but I hadn’t heard a doorman at all. And now the door had been cut into once again. I decided to take the stance that the door repairman had not come at all.
“Nope, dad. He must have missed his appointment. I was home all day.”
“So you would have seen him,” my father said, pushing the door open. “Now, let’s go find out what these officers want.”
I saw the Angela and Mr. Parker had disappeared. Together my father and I strolled down the garden path toward the sidewalk on where the police car was parked. A plump, irritable-looking officer was just getting out the police car. He surveyed our house briefly, and then saw us.
“Are you the person who called?” the officer asked my father. My father faltered for a moment, but quickly regained control of himself.
“No, officer,” he said, a confused look playing across his face. He glanced over at me, his eyes searching for an answer. “Did you call 911, Dempster?”