Page 55 of I Know She Was There

“Would sharing get me out of here quicker?” I tried to sound flippant, but my voice carried the hollow echo of worry. I wondered if I should tell him about Mary’s phone call but decided the news would only add another layer of information that would need to be sifted through.

“Why are you in a hurry to leave us?”

Good question. Besides ensuring Mary’s safety, what was the pressing need? To install an alarm system in my house? What was I protecting?

The truth.

As I’d wallowed in the hospital bed, I’d had time to reflect on recent events, and the one that kept jumping out at me was what had happened at 21 Pine Hill Road. A woman was harmed there, perhaps fatally. If I didn’t get out, I suspected the truth about what happened to her wouldn’t either. Maybe that was my purpose—my sole purpose. My final, and maybeonlygood deed.

“I have to move on with my life, don’t I?” I swallowed. “That’s what you keep telling me.”

“Yes, I do, Caroline. I’m glad you understand.” His smile was gentle. “Tell me, do you think your parents strongly influenced you as a child—and to this very day?”

I rubbed my forehead, thinking about that. “As you know, my dad died when I was six, so I guess my mom had the most influence.”

“Do you ever hear her voice in your head?”

I looked warily at him, unsure where he was going with this. “Yeah, sometimes...”

“Do you ever hear your father?”

I rubbed my lips together. “I don’t even remember what his voice sounded like.”

“That’s very difficult for you, isn’t it?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Is it because you feel guilty?” His tone was soft, almost tender, but I looked sharply at him, saying nothing. “Your mother told you he died because you rocked the boat the three of you were in that last day, right? You shifted the balance, which unsettled all of you.”

“Kind of, but mostly she told me it wasn’t my fault,” I said, pushing my hands away from me. “She always told me it wasn’t my fault.” I sighed. “The more she said it, the less I believed her.”

He said nothing, just looked at me and nodded into the silence.

“Maybe she was trying to convince herself.” I glanced away; looked at my lap.

“Why did you just mime a push?”

I looked back at him. “I didn’t.”

“You did this with your hands as you spoke.” Dr. Ellison placed his hands, palms outward, against his chest and pushed them quickly forward, as if shoving away the air in front of him.

“That’s nothing,” I said. “A dismissive gesture.”

“Meaning you dismissed your mother when she said you were not to blame for your father’s death?” His words shot forth like bullets.

I shrugged. My heart rate ramped up, and I fought the urge to duck. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting.”

“I think you do.” Dr. Ellison’s voice was firm. “Did you knock your father out of the boat?”

“No!” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

The doctor ignored me. “Wereyoupushed out of the boat?”

“No, I don’t want to?—”

“Someone was pushed out of the boat that day.”

I snapped my eyes open and looked at him. His jaw had a determined set to it. “Why do you think that?”

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