“What’s going on up there? Is everyone okay?”
Caroline recognized the voice.
“She’s bleeding,” the woman standing beside Officer Dugan said. She was a short, middle-aged woman wearing a pink robe and slippers. And she was shaking an empty coffee cup up at the tree house. The woman’s blond hair was in what Caroline thought were rollers, though she had never actually seen rollers in real life. She looked like something out of a 1950s sitcom. “Who’s bleeding?” Caroline asked.
“You’re bleeding,” the woman shouted. “You’re bleeding all over my tree house.” Then she turned to Officer Dugan. “That woman is bleeding all over my tree house.”
Caroline didn’t like the way the woman had said my tree house.
“It’s true,” Emily said, looking up. “Your forehead is bleeding like hell.”
“What in the name of God were you two doing up there?” the woman asked.
Caroline touched her forehead. It was wet and sticky. She looked at her hand. Her fingertips were spotted with blood. “I must have cut it when I hit my head on that beam.”
“Can you climb down?” Officer Dugan asked.
“Of course.”
“Do you feel light-headed?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine. I’m coming down.”
“Wait,” he said, holding his hand out like a traffic cop. “Maybe I should get the fire department out here. Just to be safe.”
“Don’t you dare,” Caroline said, moving to the ladder and beginning her descent.
“I’m not going to let you drive a fire engine over my lawn,” the woman snapped at Dugan.
“Relax, Barbara,” Officer Dugan said.
“Don’t tell me to relax.”
“We were just looking for my friend’s daughter,” Emily said. “We thought she might’ve been hiding in the tree house. My friend used to live here when she was a kid.”
“That doesn’t just give you permission to traipse around my backyard.”
“We knocked on your door,” Caroline said, finally joining Emily, Dugan, and Barbara. “You didn’t answer.”
“I was sleeping. I’m home sick today. But just because I didn’t answer the door doesn’t mean you can trespass on my property.”
“Barbara has a problem with kids using her tree house,” Dugan explained. “It happens a lot.”
“Smoking. Drinking. God knows what happens up there.”
“You’re really bleeding,” Emily said, leaning in close to examine Caroline’s scalp. She turned to Barbara. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“I have one in the cruiser,” Dugan said. “I’ll go get it.”
“I’m coming with you,” Barbara said. The two crossed the backyard and turned the corner at the edge of the house. A second later Emily and Carline were alone.
“I’m worried about Polly,” Caroline said.
“Don’t be,” Emily said. “We know she was here last night. She’s probably on her way back to your mother’s place right now.”
“I can’t stand the thought of her sleeping in that tree house alone.”
Emily laughed. “I did it on more than one occasion. It’s uncomfortable but not all that bad.”
“You did? When?”
“When I was in high school,” Emily said. “I got along with my parents for the most part, but things weren’t always rosy. When I would run away from home, I would come here and spend the night. I didn’t know it at the time, but my parents always knew where I was.”
“I had no idea that you used to run away from home.”
“Not really running away,” Emily said. “More like a cooling down period. You know teenagers. Everything has to be dramatic. You never came back here after you moved?”
“I couldn’t even stand the thought of seeing this place. I missed it so much. Still do. This was the last place that I can remember being perfectly happy.”
“You’re not happy now?”
“I’m happy,” Caroline said. “It’s been a tough few years for me and Polly. We fight a lot. Actually, we used to fight a lot. Now we just don’t talk. But that’s normal, I guess. So yeah, I’m happy. But I’m talking about that special brand of perfect childhood happiness. You know what I mean? When the only thing you worried about was getting home before the street lights came on.”
“I don’t know if I ever had a time when I felt like that. My childhood was great, but there was always a lot of pressure to get good grades. And my parents fought a lot. I think they put all of their attention and effort on me so they wouldn’t have to focus on each other.”
“Are they still together?” Caroline asked, surprised and a little embarrassed that it had taken her this long to ask. For a good portion of her childhood, they had been like surrogate parents to her.
“No, they got divorced after I graduated. I think they were waiting until I moved out to split. Dad lives in Maine. He got remarried to a woman he met online. A sheep farmer, if you can believe it. I actually like her a lot. He moved onto her farm. He shears sheep and raises chickens now.”
“I can’t imagine your father raising chickens,” Caroline said. “That’s wild.”
“Right,” Emily said. “No blue suits needed on a farm.”
“And your mom?” Caroline asked. “What about her?”
“She lives on the Cape. Bought a bed-and-breakfast and works her ass off every summer so she can spend the winter on the couch, reading and knitting.”
“Is she married?” Caroline asked.
“No. She’s had a few boyfriends, but nothing’s stuck.”
“I always thought your parents had the perfect marriage.”
Emily laughed. “They did a good job of faking it for the benefit of the world, but behind closed doors there was a lot of yelling. And a lot of silence.”
“It makes me wonder if anyone stays together anymore.”
“You and your husband are still together.”
“That’s true,” Caroline said, feeling more proud of this fact than she ever had.
Officer Dugan rounded the corner, carrying a white first-aid box in his hand. Barbara trailed him, arms folded.
“How’s the head?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess,” Caroline said. “It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean.”
“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Dugan said. “They often look worse than they really are. I’m just going to put a bandage on it for now.”
After several attempts to tape sterile gauze to the wound, Dugan finally took out a roll of gauze and wrapped it around her head in order to hold the bandage in place.
“Damn, you look like someone brained you,” Emily said.
“I brained myself,” Caroline said. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” Dugan said. “No arguments.”
“And?” Barbara Kingman said.
Dugan looked to Caroline and Emily and rolled his eyes. “Would you mind apologizing to Mrs. Kingman for trespassing on her property?”
“Oh, come on,” Emily said.
“No, it’s fine,” Caroline said. “You’ve done enough apologizing for one day.” She turned to Barbara Kingman. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kingman. We didn’t mean any harm.”
“Try harder next time,” she said.
A minute later, Dugan was helping Caroline into her car. “I don’t blame the lady,” he said. “Kids are in that tree house constantly. She must call us twice a month. And if the kids see us coming, which they usually do, they bolt into those woods behind the house and it’s damn near impossible to catch them.”
“She’s still a bitch,” Emily said.
“I won’t argue with that,” Dugan said. “I’ll follow you back to your mom’s. See if Polly’s shown up there yet. Call off the dogs.”
Emily turned to Caroline. “You mind if I go with you back to your mom’s house? I want to see this through with you. Make sure Polly’s safe and sound.”
“Sure,” Caroline said. Then she smiled. “But I can’t guarantee that she’ll be nice to you when we find her.”
“That’s okay,” Emily said. “I deserve it.”
* * *
Tom tensed at the sight of the cruiser pulling into Penelope’s driveway.
“It’s fine, Tom,” Caroline said, climbing out of her own car.
“Oh my God!” Tom, moving quickly to close the gap between them. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Caroline said. “He’s just here to see if Polly made it home yet.”
“I’m taking about your head,” he said, motioning to her forehead.
“Oh, God. I forgot. I hit my head on a beam.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning in to get a closer look.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Jesus. You’re covered in blood. Are you sure?”
“She’s fine,” Dugan said. “You can take her to the hospital if you’d like. Better safe than sorry. But I don’t think there’s any concussion, and I’m pretty sure it’s stopped bleeding.”
“How did you hit your head on a beam?” Tom asked.
“In a tree house. It’s a long story. Any word from Polly?”
“No,” Tom said, shaking his head. “I just pulled in. I went to White Hen and the diner and that plaza down the street. I thought she might be hanging out somewhere, nursing a coffee. You didn’t find anything either?”
“I did,” Caroline said, remembering her possibly good news. “Charleston Chew wrappers and Red Bull. Looks like Polly stayed in my old tree house last night. But she’d left already by the time we got there.”
Tom looked relieved. “At least we know she’s okay.”
“Are you guys still looking for Polly?” All four heads turned to the porch, where Agnes was sitting in the rocking chair that had been occupied by Spartacus the day before.
“Yes?” Caroline said.
“She’s in the backyard,” Agnes said.
“What?”
“She’s in the backyard,” Agnes repeated.
“What’s she doing in the backyard?” Tom asked.
“Attending a funeral,” Agnes said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.