The Hand

Stacey stumbled down the stairs, blinking her eyes. She had to answer the door. But who was knocking on the door this early in the morning? It wasn’t even light out yet. The knock came again, a set of three. Tap, tap, tap.

Stacey brushed her hair back with one hand and flung the door open. No one was there, at least no human. A dog whirled around. As soon as he saw her, he started barking as though he owned the place. Stacey scratched her head. This half-pitbull, half-lab mix looked familiar. Wasn’t it the neighbor’s dog?

Stacey couldn’t remember its name. “Hey, go home,” she said, making a shooing motion. The dog just barked harder. “Shut up! Some people are trying to sleep!” Stacey said in a harsh whisper. The dog continued his barking in an annoyingly regular way. Stacey stepped outside with a stomp, hoping to scare it away. The dog backed up a few steps but continued barking. 

“Go on!” Stacey said, stomping a few more times, her feet cold on the concrete. The dog ran around behind her. Stacey started chasing it down the road, half-leading it, half-following it back to its house. But as she reached the sidewalk in front of the dog’s house, Stacey realized that the front door to the house was open.

“Oh, that’s how you got out. Someone left the door open,” Stacey said. She felt so out of place, but she also felt like she would want someone to do the same if they were in her place. She called the dog up to the front porch. He was still barking loudly. Stacey didn’t want someone to come out and see her in her pajamas on their front porch with their dog barking at her, so she turned and jogged back to the sidewalk. The dog followed her and kept barking.

“Dude! Go back to your house!”

She started to stomp back to her house, but the dog continued barking at her. Stacey didn’t care then. She was going to shut this dumb dog in his house and go home. Stacey called him, but there was no need. He was following her. She hesitated on the front door step. She had only been in this neighbor’s house once for a big Super Bowl party. She stepped inside, and the dog immediately followed her. 

Stacey turned to edge through the doorway so the dog couldn’t squeeze after her when she saw a hand at the bottom of the stairs, just a hand. And it was definitely a human hand.

“Oh,” Stacey said, almost losing her balance. Was it real? “Hello!” Stacey called into the house, not caring that it was 6:00 in the morning and she was in a stranger’s house. There was no answering, though the dog’s barking had calmed down. Stacey pressed her lips together and cautiously approached the hand. 

Her own was shaking, but she reached down to touch the fingers. It felt like rubber. It probably wasn’t real. Stacey picked it up, and it seemed to wiggle in her hand. She screamed, dropped it, and a stream of blood came from nowhere, spraying her and the wall behind her. The hand was safely on the ground again.

“What am I doing? I have to call the police!” Stacey said. “I have to leave things alone.” But she couldn’t help herself. She had to see if there was a body nearby. “Hello!” Stacey called as she stepped into the dining room as though someone might have just been too shy to respond to her call earlier. 

In the dining room, perfectly placed on the fall centerpiece was an ear. “Oh, no!” Stacey said. She could not continue searching the house. Her stomach was already regretting taking a few steps further in. Stacey hurried to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. As soon as she did, the dog started barking again. But he, at least, was trapped inside and couldn’t chase her down the sidewalk. As Stacey hurried to the sidewalk, she heard someone shout.

“Hey!”

Stacey looked around. Someone was out walking their dog, and they were coming right toward her. Stacey crossed her arms in front of herself. “Hi!” she tried to call back cheerily. But she hurried in the direction of her house, running inside and slamming the door. She didn’t expect to stumble into her husband sitting on the couch.

“What were you doing?” he asked. 

“I. . .I was . . .”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” he stood up and frowned at her.

“Yeah, I think something happened to our neighbor.”

“You think something happened or you did something?”

“I . . . I didn’t do anything. Bobby! How could you say that?!”

“When I wake up and my wife isn’t in bed, then she comes back splattered in blood, what am I supposed to think?”

“Not that! I . . . it was horrible, Bobby. There was just a, hand at the bottom of the steps. A human hand!” Stacey hated being labeled the weak one, and she struggled to hold back her tears.

“Did you call the police?”

“No, I didn’t. We should do that.”

Her husband frowned at her once more before pulling out his cellphone and dubiously dialing 911. He spoke with the operator. “It seems there has been some sort of accident at the neighbor’s house. My wife says there was a hand in front of the stairs. . . No sir. I did not enter the house. I woke up to find my wife gone and waited for her to come back. . . . Yes sir.” He gave the address of their house.

“You should tell them Dale’s address,” Stacey said before he hung up, but her husband just shook his head, covering the mouthpiece. When he hung up, Stacey put her hands on her hips. “Why do you want them to come here? They need to go to the neighbor’s house. What if. . .” a terrible thought occurred to her. “What if the dog is eating him?”

“They’re coming to interview you.”

“Me?”

“You’re the only witness.” 

“Let me change first,” Stacey said, hurrying toward the bedroom to find something clean.

“They specifically told me that you shouldn’t change your clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are their main suspect.”

“But I. . . I didn’t do anything. You can check the cameras. They’ll show you what happened. The dog came to the house, and I tried to chase it away.”

Bobby pulled his phone out of his pocket. “The cameras must not have been activated last night,” he said, almost apologetically. “Now, come on, they’ll be here in a few minutes. Do you want some coffee first?”

“No, I don’t,” Stacey said, hating Bobby for the way he looked at her like he thought she was guilty. “I’m going to wait here and tell them what happened, and they’re going to believe me because it’s the truth.” But what if they didn’t believe her?