Read Online The Sacrifice by Joyce Carol Oates - Free Book Online Page B

any information about her.
    Nor did Sybilla’s classmates wish to speak of her except in the most vague terms— S’b’lla be out of school, somethin happen to her.
    When someone from the high school called, Ednetta Frye interrupted without listening to whatever question, request, message this stranger had for her— My daughter not livin in this house right now! She s’quest’d somewhere safe. Repeated calls, Ednetta picked up the receiver and slammed it down without listening.
    Juvenile Aid of New Jersey, Child Protective Services, Passaic County Family Services—calls from these agencies, Ednetta Frye dealt with in a similar fashion. Individuals from these agencies, even those dark-skinned and female like herself, Ednetta Frye turned away brusquely from her door.
    She s’quest’d where you can’t get her! Just go away an leave us like you ever give a damn for us!
    The Hispanic female police detective who’d pretended to be Ednetta’s friend in the hospital ER returned, with a (male,Italian-looking) detective-companion who stared at Ednetta with an expression of barely concealed contempt. Ednetta had seen the white-and-green Pascayne PD cruiser park at the curb only a few yards away from the window at which she crouched pressing the palm of her hand into her chest as she panted in pain and apprehension— Jesus help me. Jesus send these people away —and she guessed she had no choice but to open the door to them, at least a crack, for possibly they had a search warrant? a warrant for arrest?—though which of them it might be, Sybilla, or herself, who’d be arrested, Ednetta had no idea. She was near-fainting with anxiety. High-blood-pressure pounded in her ears. As the female detective knocked Ednetta snatched open the door saying in a hoarse pleading voice what sounded to the detectives like— My baby s’quest’d! She ain’t here! Can’t talk to you now gon shut this door.
    The female detective—(Ednetta hadn’t caught the name, much of what other people said in recent days flew past Ednetta’s consciousness like panicked birds whose beating wings you ducked to avoid)—tried to prevent her from shutting the door. Saying it was crucial that she speak with Sybilla, and with her. The female detective’s companion was standing beside her grim-faced staring at Ednetta through the two-inch crack between the door and the doorframe and Ednetta saw in the man’s ice pick eyes the look that signaled We know you are lying you God damn fuckin nigger bitch you will regret this.
    The female detective—“Iglesias”—was trying to speak calmly to Ednetta. Seeing that Ednetta was in an excitable mood. (Both cops alert to whether the distraught and panting heavyset black woman might’ve been hiding a butcher knife behind her broad hips, or a hand gun.) Telling her that she, Iglesias, was her friend; and she’d brought with her Detective___—whose name Ednetta could not have heard even if she’d wanted to hear it, blood pumping in her ears; and theyhoped for just a few minutes of her time, and if they could please speak with Sybilla . . . And Ednetta said sharply Ma’am I told you you can’t! My baby aint in this house she s’quest’d somewhere safe .
    Iglesias seemed not to hear. Not to understand.
    S’quest’d? “Sequestered”?
    Quickly Ednetta shut the door. Her heart was pounding so hard in her billowy chest, she’d have thought it was an angry fist demanding release.
    From inside Ednetta could see Iglesias and the other detective outside on the step conferring what to do. Shrewdly she reasoned that the detectives didn’t have a warrant to enter the house—if they had, they’d have entered the house; nor did they have a warrant to arrest her or Sybilla. (Could you arrest someone for being a victim ? Could you arrest someone for being a victim’s mother ?) Still, Ednetta was remembering the martial law days and nights of August 1967 when SWAT teams stormed Red Rock houses in a hail of bullets