Page 61 of I Know She Was There

“You funneled it and asked for another, but I wouldn’t give it to you—not after you slugged back that handful of pills from your purse.”

“Handful of... what?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You reached into your handbag and pulled out a bunch of pills. I cut you off and led you to my guestroom. When you woke up the next day you could barely move. I thought about calling 911.”

“I couldn’t move because you’d...”

Mary set her jaw. “You couldn’t even lift your arms. Only your mouth was working properly, yapping on about me holding you prisoner.” She let out a heavy breath. “I was just trying to help you. I even tried to get some food into you. You were too weak to feed yourself, and judging by the size of you?—”

“Okay, okay.” I raised my hands in front of me. “I believe you.”

Mary raised her chin and sniffed. “You should. It’s the truth. And what’s this about my husband?”

I slunk into a chair across the table from my neighbor. “When I was driving you home that rainy day. You told me you showed up at your ex-husband’s door with a knife. Scared him—literally—to death.”

Mary’s face was infused with a deep red hue. “Well, I could have saidthat, not that it’s true, mind you. He was never my ex-husband. We lived together until the day he died.” She flushed. “The truth is—and I know you know this—I drink too much. I don’t always remember the crazy things I say.”

I sighed, seeing the similarity in our situations. “I guess we’re both guilty of telling tall tales—and even believing them.”

She grinned. “I won’t let it spoil our friendship if you don’t.”

I smiled ruefully. I’d made up the grandest story of them all: that my baby was still alive.

Mary reached across the table and rubbed my upper arm gently. “It’s okay. We’re both gonna be just fine, you hear?”

I nodded. Apparently, I’d imagined most of my neighbor’s transgressions against me, yet she was still determined to help. I had a friendship with Mary whether I wanted it or not. Studying her wrinkled face and impish smile from across the table, I realized I could do worse. I could have no friends. We don’t always choose the people who come into our lives. Sometimes they muscle their way in despite our best efforts to keep them away.

“Do you know what happened to my alarm system?”

“Yes, Tim installed it. Gave me the spare key.”

Again?I stifled a sigh.Might as well allow Mary to move in,I thought wryly. I could use the rent money. “What did Tim say about the break-in?”

“He was concerned.” She shrugged. “Said he was going to alert the police, but fortunately, there wasn’t anything of value to take from the house.”

Only me, his wife.

“I disagree, of course,” said Mary. “I’ve been watching your place.”

“You think someone is still interested in this house?” I placed my forearms on the tabletop.

“Maybe.” She puckered her lips, considering. “Or someone is still interested in what’s inside this house: you.”

My stomach flipped.

“Why would you say that?”

She didn’t respond, just bit her lip.

“Do you know something I don’t?” I asked, sensing she did. But she shook her head. “What am I missing here? Why would anyone be interested in me?” In my mind, a row of threads dangled. I pictured myself pulling them one by one. Each one I touched dissolved as a new one took its place.

“You’re right,” she said in a near-whisper. “Somethingisgoing on, but I don’t know how things fit together.” Her eyes were suddenly moist. She blinked rapidly, adding, “I haven’t wanted to tell you because of the... the baby and your delicate condition?—”

“Just tell me, Mary.”

“When you went away the first time, Tim moved out. He said he couldn’t live here alone, without his daughter.”

I nodded. I knew that.

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