“Hold on a second,” she said, closing the door.
I assumed she was just going to undo the chain, but the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. I stood there staring into the closed, quiet door. Wasn’t she going to let me in? I waited patiently for a few minutes, then rang the bell again.
Soon her feet padded across the floor. Then silence. I said her name, and at last she let me in.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I just had to … come in.”
I hung up my coat and bent down to untie my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the shoe rack.
They were gone. All the other shoes were still there on the rack, but that particular pair, the shoes that were identical to Stella’s, were missing.
“It shouldn’t take long,” I said when Linda offered me a seat.
She looked at me in surprise and pointed at her neck.
“You don’t have…？”
“My clerical collar,” I said, feeling for it. “A person can’t always be on the job. Sometimes even pastors have to have a private life.”
She gave a hesitant smile and sat down.
“So, here’s the thing,” I said, wondering how to lay it out. “Everything you told me last time I was here, about how Christopher abused you, I believe it. I believe that what you told me is true.”
“Great,” she said, still looking hesitant.
“But why did you take it all back during the police interrogation? You said you didn’t know what was real and what was your imagination. But you did know, didn’t you?”
“No one believed me anyway.”
“So you retracted your accusation because no one believed what you said?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you have trouble telling the difference between reality and fantasy?” I asked.
Linda didn’t respond.
“The police didn’t listen to you,” I said. “What were you planning to do about it, instead?”
She shifted her position in her chair. Gazed around the room.
“Nothing. Or…”
“Or?”
She twisted her arm behind her back and scratched her shoulder. There was nothing to suggest that this woman was crazy, that she couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Why had she said such a thing during the police interrogation?
“I know who you are,” she said suddenly.
My thoughts froze.
“What do you mean?”
“I looked into it after the last time you were here.”
I opened my mouth, but the words got stuck somewhere on the way out.
“I thought a lot about getting revenge on Chris,” said Linda Lokind. “I don’t think I could have killed him, but I thought about various ways to hurt him. I did do that.”
She stared at me.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last, her shoulders sagging. “Stella was the one who killed Chris. I tried to warn her. I know you don’t want to believe it, but the police are right. Your daughter did it.”
I couldn’t move. I was collapsing inside, drowning in my thoughts, caught in a vise of darkness.
“You’re lying.”
She shook her head.
She cautiously folded up the sleeve of her blouse and looked at the clock.
A knock came at the door. Three hard raps.
Linda rose and my legs nearly collapsed beneath me as I followed. The whole room seemed to be tumbling around.
“I have to go,” I said.
Linda walked ahead of me. I stopped in the middle of the living room as she continued to the hall. I heard her turn the lock. A man’s voice echoed in the stairwell, but I couldn’t make out what he said. Meanwhile I hurried for the kitchen, trying to find a place to hide, a way out—I don’t know what, exactly.
I could only see Linda’s back as she closed the door. Her movements seemed somehow hesitant now. Out of sheer instinct I recoiled, trying to keep out of sight.
The man clomped in without removing his shoes. His footsteps sounded like jackboots against the hardwood floor and without even thinking, I took a quick step to the side and grabbed the neck of the large, bottle-shaped floor vase.
I believe this is deeply human. There’s no understanding it if you’ve never experienced a direct and serious threat to yourself and your loved ones. You make irrational decisions and overstep boundaries as you never would otherwise. A person who can no longer flee must fight.
I lifted the vase off the floor slightly to determine how heavy it was and realized I would have to use both hands. Just as I looked up, the man rounded the corner in front of me. I saw his shiny black boots and my adrenaline pumped out full force.