Her Name Was Annie

the taxpayers’ money is going,” I said, referencing the state-of-the-art parking garage we had just pulled into outside of the county building.
He found a spot right away on the ground level, then we trekked through the garage and into the massive building. After wandering down a vast corridor and through several security checkpoints, we made our way to the elevator. I stood with my back against the wall as we ascended to the third floor, feeling as if I had just walked miles and wishing I had opted for my lower-heeled shoes when I had gotten dressed that morning.
We were greeted by another security guard sitting behind a desk as we stepped off the elevator. Jack flashed him what I presumed to be his FBI ID, and he nodded us through without hesitation. My stomach felt like it had an acrobat inside, giving a grand performance, and my heart fluttered with dread. The only times I had ever seen a dead body was when I’d paid my last respects at funerals and even then I was a little uncomfortable with the idea. I tried to tell myself this man was a stranger who I didn’t even know, so it should be a lot easier.
“Agent McGuire,” a tall gray-haired man in a suit greeted. “I’m Detective Ramsfield and this is Dr. Chen.” He turned his attention to the man standing beside him wearing a lab coat.
“Nice to meet you. This is my…” Jack paused midsentence, then corrected himself. “This is Stephanie. She was on the beach the night he went into the water.”
“Hello, Stephanie,” both men said in unison.
I managed an uneasy smile.
“Do you think you’ll be able to tell us if this is the man you saw on the beach?” the detective asked, speaking to me as if he would to a child or an adult who wasn’t in their right frame of mind.
I cleared my throat and stood a little taller, to prove to him I wasn’t five years old or some head case. “I can try. I don’t know how much help I’m going to be,” I responded, amazed by the confidence in my voice.
“Well, that’s all we can ask for. Are you ready?”
I nodded; my stomach pelted with a pang of queasiness. All of the newfound assurance I had just displayed was quickly fading away as I followed behind the doctor with Jack and the detective by my side. I wanted to run out of the room, wishing I could go back in time and unsee what I had witnessed that day on the beach. My throat tightened as I watched the doctor pull out what looked to be a long drawer containing the body. Tears pricked my eyes when he removed the cover that lay over the body. Why was I getting so emotional over this person I had never met? Was it because I was the last person to see him alive? I was the one person who could’ve maybe saved him from taking such drastic measures.
As I stared down at his ashen-colored face, he seemed to be much older than I had originally thought from my small glimpse of him. I would venture to say late sixties early seventies, still with a full head of dark hair with splatters of gray through the front. It was obvious that he once was very handsome, with strong, masculine features. My eyes ventured to the skull and crossbones tattoo on his right arm. Did he have anyone who would even care that he was gone? A wife or children?
“Do you believe this to be the man you saw that day?” the detective asked.
I nodded, still not one hundred percent sure, but he had the longer dark hair I remembered and the same tall stature as that man. What were the chances that two men fitting that description plunged into the ocean? “I’m ninety percent sure it is.”
“Thank you so much,” the detective said as he signed a paper the doctor had given him. “Now, I’m just going to need your signature right next to mine.” He handed me the pen and moved the paper toward me.
“What exactly am I signing?” I asked.
“Just that this is the man you saw on the beach that day.”
“But I’m not one hundred percent sure it was. I mean, the possibility of it being him is more than likely, but like I said, I didn’t—”
“Given the day that you saw him, the perceived time of death matching with the post-mortem testing we’ve done, I’d say that’s a fair assumption. Not to mention the tide pattern of the last few days and where his body washed up. It all lines up that it was him,” the doctor added, reiterating what I was already thinking myself.
Jack nodded, giving me the pinch of reassurance I needed to pick up the pen and sign my name.
_______________
“I hope I did the right thing by signing off on that.” I sighed as we got into Jack’s car.
“You did,” Jack responded.
“How long before they may know who he was?” I asked.
“Probably by the end of the week. Then they’ve got to notify the family and figure out what may have led him to do it.”
“What do you think?”
“My professional guess would be maybe he had Alzheimer’s and was confused about what he was doing. If you’re going to commit suicide, I can think of quicker, easier ways to do it than that. That’s why I’m thinking maybe he was a little perplexed.”
I felt even worse than I already had after hearing his thoughts. What if it wasn’t intentional and he just didn’t realize what he was doing? Thoughts of my own father immediately raced through my head. I’d be devastated if he were ever in such a state of confusion that would lead him to do something like that. “I guess you could be right, but once one makes up their mind to end their life, are they really thinking…well, I’ll take some pills and alcohol because I’ll go