Kendall stood there, frozen. Finally, she bent down and turned the woman over, and looked into her sightless eyes. “Oh, my God!” Kendall whispered. She felt the bile rising in her throat. She looked up, desperate, not knowing what to do. She swung around in a panic. There were no cars in sight. She’s dead, Kendall thought. I can’t help her. This was not my fault, but they’ll accuse me of reckless drunk driving. My blood will show alcohol. I’ll go to prison!
She took one last look at the body of the woman, then hurried back to her car. The left front fender was dented, and there were blood spots on it. I’ve got to put the car away in a garage, Kendall thought. The police will be searching for it. She got into the car and drove off.
For the rest of the drive into New York, she kept looking into the rearview mirror, expecting to see flashing red lights and to hear the sound of a siren. She drove into the garage on Ninety-sixth Street where she kept her car. Sam, the owner of the garage, was talking to Red, his mechanic. Kendall got out of the car.
“Evenin’, Mrs. Renaud,” Sam said.
“Go…Good evening.” She was fighting to keep her teeth from chattering.
“Put it away for the night?”
“Yes…yes, please.”
Red was looking at the fender. “You got a bad dent here, Mrs. Renaud. Looks like there’s blood on it.”
The two men were looking at her.
Kendall took a deep breath. “Yes. I…I hit a deer on the highway.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t do more damage,” Sam said. “A friend of mine hit a deer, and it ruined his car.” He grinned. “Didn’t do much for the deer either.”
“If you’ll just put it away,” Kendall said tightly.
“Sure.”
Kendall walked over to the garage door, then looked back. The two men were staring at the fender.
When Kendall got home and told Marc about the terrible thing that had happened, he took her in his arms and said, “Oh, my God! Darling, how could…?”
Kendall was sobbing. “I…I couldn’t help it. She started across the road right in front of me. She…she had been picking flowers and—”
“Ssh! I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. We’ve got to report this to the police.”
“I know. You’re right. I…I should have stayed there and waited for them to come. I just…panicked, Marc. Now it’s a hit-and-run. But there wasn’t anything I could do for her. She was dead. You should have seen her face. It was awful.”
He held her for a long time, until she quieted down.
When Kendall spoke, she said tentatively, “Marc…do we have to go to the police?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She was fighting hysteria. “Well, it’s over, isn’t it? Nothing can bring her back. What good would it do for them to punish me? I didn’t mean to do it. Why couldn’t we just pretend it never happened?”
“Kendall, if they ever traced—”
“How can they? There was no one around.”
“What about your car? Was it damaged?”
“There’s a dent. I told the garage attendant I hit a deer.” She was fighting for control. “Marc, no one saw the accident…Do you know what would happen to me if they arrested me and sent me to prison? I’d lose my business, everything I’ve built up all these years, and for what? For something that’s already done! It’s over!” She began to sob again.
He held her close. “Ssh! We’ll see. We’ll see.”
The morning papers gave the story a big play. What gave it added drama was the fact that the dead woman had been on her way to Manhattan to be married. The New York Times covered it as a straight news story, but the Daily News and Newsday played it up as a heart-tugging drama.
Kendall bought a copy of each newspaper, and she became more and more horrified at what she had done. Her mind was filled with all the terrible if’s.
If I hadn’t gone to Connecticut for my friend’s birthday….
If I had stayed home that day….
If I hadn’t had anything to drink….