Chapter 8 - THE NEIGHBOR
Marilyn Webb lived next door.
Sixty-two.
Retired school librarian.
She had known Lucy since infancy.
Her statement was not dramatic.
That made it powerful.
Three months earlier, she heard Wade shouting in the backyard.
Could not distinguish words.
Saw Claire later.
Asked:
“Everything okay?”
Claire said yes.
Two months earlier, Lucy knocked on Marilyn’s door alone.
Not because she was fleeing abuse.
She had chased a cat through the side gate.
Wade found her within two minutes.
He was furious.
Not violent.
Marilyn heard him say:
“You make everybody think I can’t control this house.”
That phrase stayed.
Six weeks earlier, Marilyn saw Claire sitting in her car for nearly an hour after returning from work.
No significance then.
Four days before the fracture, Claire asked Marilyn:
“If I needed Lucy to stay here for ten minutes, would that be okay?”
Marilyn said of course.
Claire never explained.
Then injury day.
At 4:42 p.m., Marilyn heard something break.
At 5:07, Wade’s truck left with Lucy.
At 5:13, Claire knocked on Marilyn’s back door.
Barefoot.
No phone.
Lip bleeding.
She said:
“Call police, but please tell them my daughter is at St. Anne’s Hospital.”
Then:
“And tell Daniel.”
That was the first time in months Claire asked someone to contact me.
May you like
Not too late for judgment.
Just late.
