Page 11 of I Know She Was There

“By the pond? Where exactly?—”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just do it.”

He nodded and pressed the phone’s surface, connecting immediately to a woman’s voice warbling through the speaker.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Jeffrey told her his name and identified himself as a resident of Woodmint Lane in Deer Crossing. He explained he worked at the local newspaper and had just gotten off shift when he noticed me and my baby outside in the dark. When he stopped to check on me, he discovered I’d witnessed something disturbing. A bleeding woman. I listened to him patiently answer the dispatcher’s questions, my panic mounting.

“She needs to send out the police quickly,” I said. “The address is...” I closed my eyes, trying to recall the number of the house, but desperation turned my mind into an endless array of floating Post-it notes full of useless messages. “It’s on the corner of Pine Hill and Lakeside. Maybe number twenty-one? The house with a slim, dark-haired woman.”

Jeffrey relayed my information. He sounded scared. As he clicked off and looked at me, his features etched with worry. “They’re on their way.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

I gaped at him. I’d been unconscious for hours. “They’re too late.”

“What do you mean, too late?” Panic crossed his features.

“We need to go over there, now.”

“I’ll go and meet the police,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’ll send them here afterward.”

“Okay,” I said, realizing I had to tend to Emmy. I released my seat belt and held the baby close as I opened the door and stepped out, every inch of me aching. “Thanks again for your help.”

I was already walking toward my house as Jeffrey removed the carriage from his trunk. I was dying to get inside and find my painkiller from months earlier—the Percocet I should have tossed after my C-section. “Just leave the carriage by the front door, please,” I said. “You can keep it folded up.” I decided I’d take Xanax too.

After Jeffrey had pulled away and I’d gotten Emmy settled in her crib, I went directly to the bathroom medicine cabinet. Unlike the postpartum depression pill I took every day, I only took Xanax when needed. If the day’s events didn’t justify a hefty dose, I didn’t know what did. The leftover Percocet would be a last resort. Clutching all the prescription bottles with one hand, I turned on the tap with the other. In one swift move, I removed a water glass, also residing in the cabinet, and angled it under the water stream.

I settled on the couch, letting the medication flow through my bloodstream, dulling the aches and softening my thoughts to a dreamlike state even as I sat, fully awake.

I didn’t know how long I sat in my self-induced trance, thankful to focus my thoughts on anything but the woman in the window on Pine Hill Road. Sharp rapping on my front door startled me, making me sit forward and look around. Outside, the new day was dawning, turning the dusky sky pink and orange. Strobe lights streaked down my street, too uniform and jarring to be sunlight. I struggled to my feet and, leaning over the sofa, peered out. A police car with flashing lights was parked at the end of the driveway. As promised, Jeffrey had given the cops my address. Good. I could share with them everything I saw. But my chest tightened, my pulse jumping. What if the woman had died? I paused, biting the inside of my cheek.

The banging resumed, more insistent than before. I walked on shaky legs, reached out, and opened the door just enough to peer into the gloom.

“Hello, ma’am,” said one of the two tall, blue-uniformed police officers standing on the stoop. The thin one on the left. I nodded and the other one, stocky, introduced them. Their names made no impact. I couldn’t hear more than a murmur above the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I opened the door wider, and the two officers stepped inside.

We stood awkwardly in the tiny vestibule. I looked at the skinny officer, then the chubby one.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” asked Skinny.

“Caroline Case.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Well, I have the baby, but my husband isn’t here.” I looked down, feeling shame wash through me, causing my face to flush. Then I remembered I had nothing to be ashamed of. I raised my head, looked the officer in the eye. “He left me.”

He nodded, my declaration not appearing to have an impact on him. “Ms. Case, did you go into a house on Pine Hill Road this evening?”

“Yes, I had to, you see?—”

“And did you ask a...” Skinny took out a notepad and leafed through it. “Jeffrey Trembly to call in a murder at the house?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was a...” I couldn’t say the wordmurder. “It could have been a suicide attempt.”

“Why don’t you tell us about it,” said Chubby, placing his hands on his hips.

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