Page 70 of I Know She Was There

He stared at me, trying to gauge whether I was bluffing. “You keep going to counseling, but you never seem to get better. If anything, you’re getting crazier. Accusing me of killing our daughter is a new twist. But maybe it’s progress. At least you aren’t still lugging around an empty baby carrier.”

I pressed my lips together as my breath stalled in my throat. I couldn’t let him goad me into submission. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I was looking for the baby bath items under the sink that day, remember? I searched and searched while you balanced Emmy in the tub, but when I turned back, you weren’t holding her.” I stared into his eyes, fighting the urge to circle my hands around his neck and squeeze as hard as I could.

He blinked and stepped away from me. “You’re delusional, as usual.”

“Am I?” I stared at him, wanting nothing more than to look away. I felt the sudden moisture pricking my eyes at the thought of Emmy in the tub. “You knew I didn’t do well with water. I would never bathe her without you. I couldn’t.” I shuddered at the thought of it.

He rolled his eyes. “Just one more example of your everlasting neurosis.”

“I’ve got problems, Tim. I admit it.” My voice turned bitter. “Thanks for caring.”

“Caring for you was exhausting, Caroline. It was like living with two infants rather than one.”

“And now we have none.” My voice broke and I had to look away.Stay strong, Caroline.

“It didn’t have to be that way,” he said, venom dripping from his words. “If you’d just put the shampoo where it belonged, I wouldn’t have needed to look in the towel cabinet. I was only distracted for a second...”

“That’s all it took.”

Tim looked down, staring at the floor between us. Seconds ticked by, but he said nothing. Suddenly, his shoulders sagged. “I tried to revive her; I called for an ambulance.”

“It didn’t have to come to that.” If he’d only been patient, Emmy would still be alive. Now it was far too late.

He looked at me. “Caroline, please.” His eyes looked moist. “We need to face this together, mourn together?—”

“How dare you.” My leg twitched with the need to knee him in the groan.

“I’m hurting too.”

“Don’t give me that! Your recovery was remarkably fast. By the time the authorities arrived, you had your story in place, didn’t you? Said I’d been bathing Emmy and had let her slip into the bathwater.” I shook my head, unbelieving even as I was figuring it out.

“Someone had to tell the police what happened. You wouldn’t get off the bathroom floor. None of us could get you to speak. You simply stared into space like a zombie.”

“You counted on my despair, pointed out my postpartum depression, I’m sure. You knew when it came right down to it, it would be my word against yours.”

He stared at me, his jaw clenching and unclenching. The moisture breaching the lower rims of his eyes evaporated.

“Just tell me the truth,” I whispered.

His eyes, as cold and hard as coal chips, held my gaze. A dangerous version of a staring contest. I didn’t blink.

“I knew you wouldn’t get blamed,” he finally admitted, his voice low, measured. “If there was an inquiry, police would take your history into account.”

“My history didn’t matter,” I ground out. “It was an accident.”

“People have gone to prison for less.” He looked away. “Once the cops discovered we weren’t getting along, that you walked the streets at night, bringing Emmy out in winter weather?—”

“No one has ever been imprisoned for pushing their properly dressed child in a stroller.”

“In the middle of the night, Caroline? In below-freezing temperatures?” He paused, locking his gaze once again with mine. “If the police determined I was negligent too, who would keep us afloat? You had a hard time holding down a job, even before?—”

“Only during the postpartum depression. I planned to go back to work?—”

“You forget I was there, Caroline, watching you fall apart!”

“My hormones were raging. Anyone would have?—”

“Accidentally drowned her baby.” He swallowed hard but held my gaze. “Are you sure you’re remembering things correctly?”

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