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Silos, barns, and outbuildings told the story of generations past and present. Some stood as relics of the pioneer days, their hand-hewn logs notched at the corners, the gaps once packed with clay or moss. Others bore the clean lines of modern corrugated steel, built for function over tradition. The old barns still served their purpose—storehouses for tools, shelter for animals, or a quiet place for stacked hay in lofts and stalls.
Ted knew the Neilson family well, but Terry had been like one of his own. She was once as close to family as you could get without being related. The same age as his middle daughter, and was always around the house. She was in the same classes at school and played on his daughter’s soft ball team and both where active in 4H. She had sleep overs at his house and had accompanied the family on camping trips and other adventures. Ted hadn’t seen Terry in a while and was looking forward to seeing what she was up to lately.
A welfare check was just a routine part of the job. Ted could never count the number of checks he had made in his career. Someone would call with a concern about a friend or relative and ask the police to stop by and see if there was a problem. The local police would check if the request fell in the town’s limits. The Sheriff’s Department handles all the request in county areas. Most of the time someone was calling about their elderly parent. The kids had moved to a bigger city and when they can’t reach their parents, they call and ask for a welfare check. The story goes that they had tried for several days and there was no answer on the phone. Its probably nothing, Grandma had not fully adjusted to cell phones and she probably forgot to charge it or she had left it in the car. This time it was a mother’s concerned about her daughter. Terry’s father has passed and her mother had moved away to live with her older sister. She needed access to better health care than was available in Eden. Terry had stayed behind and lived in the family house. Ted reminded himself that most of the time everyone was fine.
The homestead was on two hundred acres of mostly pasture, with a barn and some other out buildings. The house was built in the early 1900’s, two stories with a wrap around covered porch and a basement. It was a typical southern farm house found all around the county. Built for the large family that was needed to successfully farm. The house was built by Terry’s grandfather, and inherited by her father. Her parents had run a calf and cow operation when she was young. Now the fields were leased to a neighbor and used for hay production. Ted was certain that once Terry’s mother had passed, the land would be sold off and Terry would move away.
The house was set back off the main road and accessible by a two hundred yard gravel drive. Ted pulled up to the house and saw no signs of activity. A dog barked as he approached, but no one came to the door. The dog was wagging his tail as he barked and Ted knew from experience that the dog was just announcing his arrival. After exiting the car, he walk over to the dog.
“Good boy.” He said. The dog stopped barking and came over and smelled his pants. Ted reached down and rubbed the dogs ears while he looked around, he still did not see anyone. The yard was over grown and there was a car parked next to the house. The steps were in the center of the front porch and Ted climbed up and walked to the door. He heard the sound of the TV when he pressed the door bell. He did not hear the door bell ring so he rapped on the glass in the door. Still no response.
Ted called out “Hello, anyone home?” Still no answer. “Terry, it’s Ted.” Still no answer. Ted walked around the house. He called in the plate numbers from the car and it was Terry’s. Ted walked to the back of he house calling out as he walked.
The rear of the house was in greater disarray than the front. There were items haphazardly strewn about. Ted knocked on the back door getting no response. He tried the door handle and it was unlocked. He opened the door and announced his presence. “Anybody home?” No response. The house was silent.
The back door open to the kitchen and it was a mess. Ted knew that Terry was alway a little messy. There were dishes piled in the sink and overflowing onto the counter. Open empty cans of food were left on the counter and the kitchen table. The garbage can was full and had been pulled over and spilled on the kitchen floor. Ted thought to himself that the dog must have gotten into it. Ted made his way down the hall towards the front of the house.
The vestibule included the stairway to the second floor. Ted continued to call out as he checked each room for occupants. He turn the TV off as he searched. Ted climbed the stairs peering into each open door as he walked the second floor. At the rear right of the house there was a room with a closed door. Ted called out and knocked on the door. The house remained silent. He opened the door and saw a woman lying covered in the bed, faced away from the door.
“Terry, is that you.” He walked closer and approached the foot of the bed, As he did the face came into view. Ted did not have to approach any further, it was Terry and she was dead. His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the years melted away, and he saw her as the little girl who used to raid his fridge after school. He wanted to shake her awake, to tell her it was all a mistake. But she was gone. He caught himself and stepped back.
Over the years, Ted had witnessed death on a regular basis. Accidents on the highway and the passing of the elderly in his community. He had grown accustom to it. But this was different. She was young, beautiful, with a limitless future. Her family was loving and supportive and she was liked and respected in the community.
It took a minute but Ted composed himself. He had a job to do, a job that included telling this child’s mother that her daughter was gone. On the nightstand next to Terry was a open bottle of pills. In the eternity that were the seconds Ted stood and stared at the bottle, he asked himself, “Did she overdose, was this a suicide?”
The scene told a story, but Ted wasn’t sure what kind yet. Overdose? Something worse? His gut churned. Opioid abuse was ramping up all across the country. Ted had read the reports, overdose deaths were on the rise. It was an epidemic and it may have reached Eden. Ted approached and read the label. It was a prescription, and it was Terry’s name on the bottle. The prescription was for pain and the bottle still contained pills. Ted was relieve for a moment, at least it was not suicide. If it was a suicide, the bottle would be empty.
Ted called the office to request assistance and to have the coroner sent out. It wasn’t ten minutes before the home phone started ringing. Ted stood and listened as the callers left messages. “Just calling to check on you. Terry, are you there?” Ted recognized the voice on the phone. There were a dozen calls before the coroner arrived. News travels fast in a small town. Message after message played—each one a voice from Terry’s life, calling into the void. ‘Terry? Call me back, honey.’ Ted squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t take it anymore. He turned the volume down and let himself grieve.
