Page 34 of I Know She Was There

I crept along my neighbor’s side of his overgrown privet hedge, for once thankful old man Schumer was such a lazy landscaper. I peeked through a hole in the hedge where he’d overzealously sprayed poison ivy in a rare burst of yard tidying this past spring. As my pupils adjusted to the lack of light, I was able to see my back deck perfectly, including the steel screen door leading into my kitchen.

The door squeaked open, and a shadow appeared on the deck. I clamped my mouth shut, breathing unsteadily. The form shuffled across the deck, appearing to be quite short. A neighborhood kid out for kicks or quick cash? It was only when the shadowy figure started down the steps that I realized who it was. The slow, jerky way she moved told me all I needed to know. Why on earth had Mary Whitton broken into my home?

As I struggled to emerge from the hedge, my blouse sleeve snagging on a twig, Mary made her way to the far side of my property and crossed through the few scraggly trees between our houses. By the time I crossed my yard and stepped into hers, she was opening her basement door.

Why was she entering her house through the basement?

Did she want to avoid being seen emerging from my house? Even in the dark, our neighbors could notice her when the headlights of passing cars spotlighted her presence on my front stoop. I heard a click that told me she’d locked her door behind her.

I rushed to the door and banged on it with all my might.

With another click her face appeared in the opening, looking innocent and confused. “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t play innocent, Mary. How dare you sneak around in my house when I’m not there.” My face flushed and my breath came in uneven spurts.

“Please come in,” she said, opening the door wider. “You’re always welcome in my home.”

“Youare notalways welcome in mine,” I said, stepping past her and into the dank basement, the smell of mildew heavy in the air. I looked around the area, a moment’s hesitation making me pause, taking in the bare bulb dangling from one of the room’s ceiling joists. I’d never been in Mary’s cellar. Glancing around, it had the creepy closed-in vibe of all unfinished basements but looked otherwise innocuous. It was empty except for broken furniture piled in one corner, a stack of empty liquor boxes in another, and a half dozen translucent plastic trash bags stuffed with empty bottles and cans on the concrete floor between them. The walls were covered in a cheap pressed-wood rendition of paneling, the kind people thought looked good in the 1970s.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset, Caroline. I was looking out for your interest.”

“My interest? My interest is tonothave you or anyone else in my house when I’m not home!”

“Exactly. I noticed lights flickering in your place, but I’d seen you drive away earlier, and Tim told me he was on vacation this week. So, I went over there to find out who was in your house.”

I stared at her through the dim light cast by the low-wattage bulb above us, the thick, moldy air making my nose clog. I fought the urge to sneeze. “Are you for real?”

She smiled her crooked-toothed grin. “Last time I checked.”

“But I don’t... why would...”

She shrugged. “I figured I had nothing to lose. I’m just a visitor, right? So, I knocked on your front...”

“Door?”

“Yes, yes.” She nodded. “Nobody answered, but I peeked through the sidelight window and saw a shadow cross through the living room and into your kitchen.”

My jaw dropped open. “What did this... thisshadowlook like?”

Mary shrugged. “Don’t know, just a shadow, but a big one. A man’s shadow, I think.”

“A man?” I tried to think of what man, other than Tim, would want to be in my house. If I hadn’t been with Jeffrey, I’d have suspected him, but of course I could rule that out. After our coffee, he’d gone back on shift. He’d likely assumed I’d gone straight home after our chat. My mind hovered over the idea of Jane’s mystery man breaking in. After all, Jane knew my address. Ice shot up my spine.

“I was planning on telling you all of this in the morning, Caroline, but you didn’t?—”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “How did you get in my house?”

“You gave me that spare key, but I didn’t need it. The front door was unlocked.”

“I never leave the house open like that,” I said, wondering if locking the door was one of the many things I’d forgotten lately. Another dangerous omission in my life.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Caroline.” Mary sighed. “When I arrived it was unlocked, but there’s nobody in there now. I checked. And I locked up behind me.”

* * *

As I crossed back into my yard, looking constantly over my shoulder, I thought about the idea of a man in my house. I hadn’t met many men in the short time I’d lived here. The postal carrier, UPS driver, and Tasha’s husband, Nelson. That wasn’t much of a list. Jane’s mysterious neighbor, her husband, Rod, and Muzzy’s husband, Johnny, were on the periphery of my life, but I’d never actually met any of them.

I entered my house through my back door, realizing as I slid the bolt and chain on it that it had probably been easier for Mary to use her basement door at night rather than pick her way through the tree roots and random stones in her side yard en route to her front entrance. I turned on every light in the house, and checked each window and door to ensure they were all intact and locked. I closed every blind and looked around the house. Things seemed different, altered. The hallway table’s drawer was open. Had I merely neglected to close it? The angle of the cushions on the sofa and upholstered chair in the living room made them appear to have been pulled off and hastily replaced. I picked up a throw pillow from the floor. It was entirely possible I was responsible for the disarray. I’d been so disinterested in housekeeping lately.

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