“You have one?” Phillip was immediately interested.
“Unbeknownst to me, yes. Robin put one in Sophie’s room before he left. He says he told me. I was too out of it to register that … apparently.”
Phillip was wise enough to let that pass by. “So did you watch the recording already?”
“We did, before we turned it over to Cathy Trumble.”
Phillip was clearly disappointed he hadn’t gotten to watch. “See anything interesting?”
I’d seen an intruder in my daughter’s room, and it had scared the hell out of me. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute. Listen, when did Sarah leave? When did you get to bed?”
“Sarah had to be home by eleven thirty,” Phillip said. “She walked out the door at eleven twenty. She’d driven her mom’s car.”
I nodded. Sarah’s family lived only two streets over.
“I was in bed by midnight. I read awhile before I turned out my light. At the latest, that might have been a quarter to one.” Phillip shook his head. “That’s all.”
“I guess you and Sarah saw Virginia during the evening?”
“Not much. She sat in the living room maybe an hour. We talked to her,” Phillip assured me. “She watched part of the movie. She had the monitor, so when she heard Sophie making noise, she left the room. That was about—ahhh—ten? Anyway, we didn’t see her again.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“Like who?”
“Like the woman who got killed. She was in the house. It was on the nanny cam.”
Phillip was aghast. “That’s awful.”
“She went in the baby’s room. With a knife. In Sophie’s room.”
“I would have killed her myself if I had caught her doing that.” He meant it.
I had tears in my eyes. This was a declaration of love. And I knew exactly how he felt, because I did, too. “You’ve been great throughout this,” I said. “And before I forget it, I want to say thanks.”
Phillip gave me an awkward hug. Our mutual dad and my brother’s mom were not big huggers, apparently. But Phillip was learning our ways.
“You think it would be okay if I went to the track to run?” he asked. “Josh is going. He can bring me home.”
“I don’t see why not.” My conscience twanged, and I looked at the kitchen clock. It was too late to get to church for the service, and I was mostly relieved. I needed to go, but it would have been an ordeal.
Phillip might as well burn off some energy.
In five minutes, Phillip was out the door in track gear. “I’m running to the school,” he called over his shoulder. He’d begun doing that after I’d observed that it was pretty silly to drive to a place and then run around the track. “Oh, Roe, your mom called last night, late. She said you hadn’t answered your cell.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Just for a minute. She was in a big hurry, and plenty unhappy.”
I could no longer ignore my conscience. I had to respond to messages. I called Mother first, but she didn’t answer; if she and John were back from the reunion, she was probably at church. I left a voice mail.
Sarah Washington’s mother had left a voice mail, too. I could tell Beatrice had thought out what she wanted to say very carefully. “I’m so sorry you’ve got troubles. I hope the police clear it up real soon. If you need anything, call me.” I could hear the undertone of relief, of course; Beatrice had to be thinking, Thank God Sarah had left by then.
My pharmacy had called to tell me a prescription was ready for pickup. The children’s librarian had called to say if I wasn’t coming back to work, a friend of hers would love to apply for my job. I grimaced. I had to get off the fence about going back to work. But I was putting all this off until another day. My real life still felt far away from the current situation.
Angel had called, but she hadn’t left a message. I decided to fill her in on recent events later.
Right at eleven, when it was safe to conclude we were all up and dressed (under normal circumstances), our neighbors Deborah and Jonathan Cohen came to the front door. I was not particularly glad to see them.
The Cohens were decent people, but they were sticklers about their property and the appearance of our neighborhood. (Though I had never heard the Cohens’ history, I guessed it had included privation.) They were vigilant about the upkeep of all the houses and yards on McBride Street. You could expect to hear from the Cohens if your garbage can stayed out at the curb after pickup day (guilty once), or if your Halloween pumpkin was rotting on your front porch, or if your Christmas lights stayed up past January 31. In the course of a neighborly conversation, either Jonathan or Deborah would give you a strong hint about correcting your infraction.
I answered the door very quickly, since Robin was still asleep. I was literally armed with Sophie. The retired couple bent over our beautiful baby and admired her, almost as much as I thought was Sophie’s due. They’d never mentioned any children. I figured it would have entered the conversation by now, if they had. Though I was not enthusiastic about talking to the Cohens this afternoon, I had no option; I had to invite them in.
Of course they accepted, since they had a message to deliver.
I put Sophie in her bouncer seat, and she made some tentative moves. She was always surprised when the seat reacted.
After they’d refused a drink, Deborah began, “You can imagine how we felt last night. We had to get out of bed, Lulu created such a ruckus! And we were awfully surprised when we saw the lights, people everywhere, the ambulance and whatnot.” Lulu the dachshund was a frequent barker who could get really excited about a squirrel, or the shadow of a bird flying over the yard. I could only imagine Lulu’s excitement at the flashing lights and the strange people.
“I was certainly scared too, especially with Robin out of town,” I said, playing the I-was-all-by-myself card. Shamelessly. I glanced down at Sophie, and I saw that her eyelids shut for a second. Then she rallied, waving her arms and looking up at me. Who are these people? she was saying.
You might as well go to sleep, I told her.
Deborah and Jonathan (who were weirdly alike, short and stocky with curly gray hair and glasses) exchanged a loaded look. I knew something bad was coming. Something else bad. I went on the alert.
“I’m surprised you’re telling me that,” Jonathan said, with heavy significance. “Since when I got up in the night to go the bathroom I looked out the window and I saw someone I was sure was Robin. I thought, ‘What the heck is Mr. Crusoe doing wandering around the yard at this hour of the night?’”
I could only stare at him. Finally, I got my reply together. “Jonathan, Robin was out of town at a banquet at that moment, winning an award. So whoever you saw, it wasn’t my husband.” I smiled, to show how unconcerned I was.