Page 44 of Savage Row
“Let me,” I say. “It’s probably Sarah dropping off another casserole.”
“God.” He turns the fire up and repositions the pan. “Not another one.”
When I round the corner, the reflection through the glass catches my eye. It’s not Sarah. It’s two uniformed officers. Glancing out the peephole, I see one male, one female. Assuming they are here about Jack Mooney, I open the door without hesitation. The woman speaks first. “We’re looking for Amy Stone,” she states, but in her expression I see that she is certain she’s already found her.
“I’m Amy.”
The officer glances over my shoulder like he’s feeling the place out. His brows rise when he looks back at me. “Are you alone, Mrs. Stone?”
The woman says, “May we come in?”
“My husband and children are here,” I reply before I scoot aside and usher them in.
Greg walks into the living area with a spatula in hand. His eyes widen when he sees it isn’t Sarah. “If it’s okay,” the officer says, “we’d like to speak with your wife alone.”
“Is everything all right?” He glances my way.
“We just have a few questions,” he answers. “We won’t take up too much of your time.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Maybe Greg says something more, but whatever it is, I don’t catch it, because the officer is leading me back out onto the porch, where she gets straight to the point. Her eyes level with me. “We’re here to do a welfare check.”
“Okay…”
The officer clears his throat. “We received a call about a video that was posted online.”
My eyes flit from one to the other, before eventually settling on the woman. Her partner looks like he’s barely out of high school. It is clear they expect me to say more, but I have nothing. “A video?”
“It was posted on YouTube and several neighborhood apps, and from what I am told, your neighborhood website.”
“I’m a realtor.”
From across the street, Mr. Crowley waves. I wave back. The officer furrows his brow. “It was uploaded in the early morning hours.”
My throat sticks. I can see that they’re expecting me to offer something, but I don’t know what that something is.
“It was a graphic video,” the officer finally says.
“Pornographic in nature,” his partner adds.
Next door, Mrs. Crump’s son waters the lawn. It seems odd to water in December, but then again, he is odd. I refocus my attention on the officer, and lower my voice. “Pornographic?”
“It has since been pulled, but you know how these things go. Every time one gets taken down, another is uploaded in its place.”
“I didn’t upload any videos, if that’s what you mean. But I have a stalker—”
“You were identified as being the female in the video. Your husband is said to be the other party. We understand if this isn’t a good time, but we’d like to talk with you…”
“I don’t understand.”
“The video depicted a violent act, possibly a rape. Several people have come forward stating it was you in the recording and asked us to check on your welfare.”
“My what?” It hits me what they might be referring to. “Oh, my God.”
“Are you currently in any danger, Mrs. Stone?”
“Me?” My hand flies to my chest. I think I am going to be sick. “No. I mean…like I said…there’s a man who’s been stalking me.” My eyes narrow. “But I get the sense that’s not what you’re talking about.”
The woman looks over at her partner and then at me. “Domestic violence is a very common offense. But it’s something we take seriously.”