The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  “Will’s perfect as usual, and I’m so, so far from it. As usual.”

  Grace sipped from her wine glass and rolled her eyes as she swallowed. “Madigan, you never give yourself enough credit.”

  “Will’s like this dream guy. He’s—he’s your kind of guy.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t have a kind of guy. I haven’t thought about a guy in a long time.”

  She had to pretend to like the last man who paid her attention while undercover. Pretend to have chosen of her own volition.

  They told her that eventually, it might feel normal. Get easier.

  It didn’t—especially not when she had no choice but to shoot him.

  “Well, maybe you should be open to it.” Madigan shrugged and sipped on her drink.

  “Back to you,” Grace said. “You’re not getting away so easily.”

  “He’s just so—he’s a surgeon for crying out loud. I’m a local news entertainment reporter who—” She stopped and took a drink, shaking her head. “He gives medical lectures at fancy conferences. I lecture Buster about waking me up in the middle of the night to be let out. He’s written medical articles. I write articles for the local paper. He’s successful, even-tempered, reliable. And he wants to be with me. It’s pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic. Will loves you. You yourself claim he’s brilliant. He has a good head on his shoulders, and he’s chosen to be with you. Do you want to be with him?”

  “I do,” Madigan said, resting her drink against her chest, covering the A and M in Pearl Jam. “You’re right, I have to get over it. Sometimes I wish he was more passionate. More emotional.”

  “You can’t change him, Mads. You know that.”

  Madigan tossed the rest of her drink back. “I’m all vented out. How about you?”

  Madigan had been open and honest, and she felt the need to reciprocate, but not about the dark things. She couldn’t open Pandora’s Box.

  “My new partner’s kind of a jerk.” Grace sighed.

  “How so?”

  “He doesn’t want to work with me, for starters. I think he’s heard rumors about me, and just like every one else, he believes what he hears.”

  “What has he heard?” Madigan asked.

  Grace shook her head. “Hell if I know, but it makes this case harder than it needs to be. I don’t feed into it. I keep hoping maybe once he sees how I operate, he’ll get a better understanding of who I really am.”

  A man at the railing by the corner post caught her eye. He kept looking her over, puffing on his cigarette. Dread washed over her as she fought to concentrate on Madigan.

  “…but I’m sure it’ll get better,” she said.

  The man pushed himself off the railing and sauntered toward them.

  She didn’t know many people in town, and no one should recognize her. If they did, they were from the city. Maybe from her time undercover.

  “We should go,” Grace whispered to her.

  If her cover had been blown, despite the reassurance that her mistake had been contained, someone could want revenge.

  Madigan gave her a confused look as the man stopped at their table.

  “Ladies.” He smiled and focused on Grace. “I was wondering if I could buy you both your next drink?”

  Grace stared up at him, but the man only smiled, swaying back and forth from side to side, waiting for someone to speak.

  Grace exhaled and shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “Thanks for the offer.” Madigan smiled up at him with her big blue eyes, set off with thicker black eyeliner that reminded Grace of the way she’d done her make up undercover as Cheyenne. “But I’m taken.”

  He held his hands up and flicked the butt of his cigarette over the railing.

  “Had to try.” He grinned and backed away from them.

  “You alright?” Madigan asked.

  Grace nodded and fixed her hair.

  “Grace, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Sometimes, I feel like someone from the past is looking for me. Someone from my undercover op.”

  Madigan frowned. “I thought they were all in jail or…”

  Dead.

  “The ones who had any power are, yes.” Grace leaned in closer. “But I met a lot of people during that time, and if anyone knew who I really was…”

  “You’re safe, Grace.” Madigan leaned over close to the table. “You put the bad guys away, and you moved here. No one knows you here. It’s a clean start.”

  My past always catches up with me.

  “Madigan, you know better than most that there’s no such thing as a fresh start.”

  Madigan pursed her lips. “I’m starting to wish I’d taken him up on that drink.”

  “Me too,” Grace sighed. “I know I’m just paranoid sometimes, but it’s part of the job.”

  “It must be exhausting.”

  “Sometimes. I try to focus on moving forward, though.”

  “Me too. You’re right. Let’s get another drink. It’s on me.”

  “I think I’m good for the night. I have an early start ahead and files to go over.”

  Madigan nodded, and Grace recognized the disappointment in her eyes. “How about you come over tomorrow night?” Grace asked.

  “I can’t. I have the family dinner from hell.”

  “Ah yes.” Grace laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be better than you think.” She stood and tugged at the bottom of her blazer.

  “Maybe,” Madigan said, standing with her glass in hand. “I’m not holding my breath, though. I’m going to bring these inside for Roy. I’ll text you if I learn anything else, alright?”

  Grace nodded and handed her the wine glass. “Thank you. Sounds good.”

  Madigan disappeared through the door into the noisy bar. She took the steps down off the deck toward the path to the parking lot and wondered if John was having a drink of his own.

  She knew he had more in common with her than she thought—an advantage that could help her understanding of him as a suspect.

  The roses. Just like Eli gave to Evette after a fight.

  If Banning kept her on the case, she’d make the connection an asset. Even if he did, her connection to John would be another strike against her in Mac’s eyes. Another reason she wasn’t fit for the job.

  Still, truth was the best policy.

  Nothing good has ever come from a lie.

  Chapter Eleven

  Raven Lockwood stood at the counter, staring down at her clipboard. Grace knocked at the window of the steel door, and she waved her in with a polite smile.

  “Grace Sheppard. We met the other night.”

  “Raven Lockwood,” she said, leading Grace over to Lily’s body, taking long strides as her voluptuous curves swayed back and forth. “I remember you because it’s not often there’s a new face in town. Especially not with the Tall Pines PD.”

  Grace cleared her throat and folded her hands together in front of her, glancing at the covered body of Lily Martin.

  “How do you like it here?” Raven asked.

  “It’s a beautiful town,” Grace said.

  “Charming, right?” Raven smiled. “If it hasn’t yet, it’ll grow on you. I’ve been here all my life, and once people come to visit, they usually stay.”

  “Is that so?” Grace said.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It has its downsides. Everybody knows everyone else’s business like any small town. There’s a bit of ignorance here, too, but I’m proud to call it home. Visible minorities like us are generally met with tolerance at the very least. What’s your background?”

  It had been a long time since anyone had asked.

  “I actually don’t know. I’m told my dad was white and my mom was aboriginal,” Grace said. “How about yourself?”

  “Dad’s grandparents were from Sudan before they came here. Mom’s Caucasian, and her parents’ side traces back to England.” Lockwood smiled and tossed her thick dark braid over her shoulder. “Have you
had any bad experiences here regarding your race? Being mixed?”

  “In Tall Pines? No.” Grace shook her head. “But I haven’t been here long.”

  Amherst was another story.

  Lockwood nodded. “You do plan on staying, right?”

  The steel door opened, and Mac strutted into the room in a dark suit.

  “Mac, you clean up nice,” Raven smiled. “For me?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Always for you. I also happen to have a meeting later on.”

  “Ah, with the lawyers?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You didn’t start without me, did ya?”

  Lawyers. Personal or professional?

  “Of course not,” Raven smiled. “Just getting to know Grace a bit. Let’s begin.”

  They stood around the slab, and Lockwood pulled the sheet down, revealing Lily’s grey face and dull blonde hair, chunks of which had kept their orange tinge from soaking in blood.

  “I’ll begin with the obvious,” she said. “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head leaving a triangular laceration deep enough to mark the skull. That was the COD.”

  “Instant?” Mac asked.

  “Not long after,” she said. “The laceration is one point three inches deep, right against the skull, as I said. No further causes contributed to her death.”

  Mac nodded. “With a cut that deep, it seems like our suspect had to be close to create that kind of mark. In your opinion, could it have been caused by a vase, or would the edge of the table be more plausible?”

  Lockwood grabbed a photo from the file on the tray beside them and held it under the light.

  “The marks line up exactly with the corner of the table,” she said, pointing to the corner stained in blood. “Stomach contents included spaghetti, tomato sauce, and bread. No materials found under her fingernails or in her mouth; however, through a rape kit, I was able to produce a sample to send for testing along with the underwear she was wearing.”

  “Good,” Mac said. “What else?”

  “No broken bones, current or previous, and a few small bruises on her knees and forearms. Aside from a papercut, she’s clean.”

  “Tox?” Grace asked.

  Raven stared down at Lily. “The tox screening showed a .07 blood alcohol level. Other than that, she was clean.”

  “Anything else you feel worth noting?” Mac asked.

  Raven pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “In regards to the COD,” Grace said, “where exactly is the head wound?”

  Raven grabbed a file and handed it to Grace. “That’s my copy. I have yours to go. First page.”

  Mac stepped over and stood over Grace’s shoulder as she flipped the page.

  “See where I’ve made the mark? That’s an exact replicate.”

  Grace nodded. “Right on the very back of her head. So she wasn’t turning around. The bruises, were they recent?”

  “Some.” She pulled the sheet down all the way, “One on each knee were recent, but the marks and bruises on her forearm in the shape of finger prints have almost healed. I’ve documented them all.”

  Mac nodded. “Thanks for meeting with us, Raven.”

  “Of course,” she said, covering Lily back up. “Any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  Lockwood held the file out to Grace, but Mac swiped it away from her and tucked it under his arm.

  “Have a good one.” Mac nodded and started for the door.

  “Take care.” Grace nodded to Raven, and she nodded back, leaning closer.

  “Don’t let him do that,” Raven whispered. “Us women have to stick together, and you can’t let him walk over you like that.”

  Grace’s cheeks emanated heat, and she hesitated before following Mac out of the building where he held the front door open for her.

  “Thanks,” she nodded as she stepped by him. “So the only way this was an accident is if she was holding the vase, then slipped and dropped it, because the glass was beneath her too. It broke before she hit her head against the corner of the table, and then she bled out.”

  “What could she have tripped on?” Mac asked.

  “I don’t—“

  “I’ve checked the pictures. There was nothing there to trip on. Why would she have picked up the vase? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “You think someone else touched the vase? Threw it? Broke it?” Grace asked.

  “Or she moved it,” Mac said, stopping as they reached the side lot. “Listen, I don’t want to speculate on this until we can get to the crime scene and go over it with what we know. How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t work on theories. I want the facts.”

  Mac sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Just meet me at the crime scene, alright?” he said.

  Grace nodded, and they parted ways. Being passive wasn’t getting her any further with Mac. No matter what she said or did, it wasn’t right.

  So what? I just shut up? Let him embarrass and belittle me to gain his respect?

  She followed his car out of the lot before he sped up on the street.

  He doesn’t even want me near him while we’re driving. He can’t stand me.

  Maybe he thinks I don’t belong here, but this is my case too.

  Raven Lockwood is right. It’s just as much mine, if not more.

  She stopped just after the traffic light turned yellow and let him speed through the intersection.

  Then act like it, Grace.

  Chapter Twelve

  Madigan clicked the bookmarked link to the previous year’s fishing competition and read the article headline from the Tall Pines Gazette.

  Thom Hanks and John Talbot win Biggest Catch, Tall Pines 2016.

  She skimmed through the article, but found no new information to be gleaned. She clicked the next article she’d saved, an event held at Thom’s Tackle. Even less information that time, but a related article led to a link she hadn’t noticed before.

  It was coverage of a charity event held by Thom Hanks to raise money for the Big Brothers and Sisters program in Tall Pines. She saw the same picture from Thom’s office of Thom and his wife with their arms wrapped around each other, and Thom’s arm around John, while John held the hand of Lily Martin.

  All four had huge smiles and seemed close.

  John Talbot was an easy man to track, but he’d only existed for the past decade. Before then, Madigan couldn’t find his last name or any articles or websites that mentioned him.

  Grace has access to background checks. She must already have information from his time at Eli and Evette’s. Time served, if any. His whereabouts during that year after he left and we moved in.

  The year someone dragged a body through the hallway on Warbler Way.

  She typed in the year she and Grace had turned seven along with Eli and Evette’s last name, Thornberry.

  No results.

  Her cell phone rang, and she answered it. Paul from the business section shot her a dirty look from the cubicle across the way.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe,” Will said. “Listen, I’m on my way into an emergency surgery. I’ll be out by 2:30, 3:00 at the latest, but I was wondering if you could pick up those groceries for tonight?”

  Madigan shrunk down in her seat. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thanks, babe,” he said. “Gotta go.”

  “Bye,” she said, pulling the phone away from her ear, but he’d already hung up.

  Great.

  She caught Paul looking at her again.

  “This isn’t a library,” she said. “We don’t have to be quiet.” She shook her head, glancing back at the screen.

  Did you take their last name when you were adopted, John? Or did you keep the last name you were born with?

  “That’s cute,” Thane said from behind her, and she sat up rigid in her seat. “You’re trying to find a lead, aren’t you?”

  She ignored him and minimized the internet tab.

  One last piece
of information to check out before grocery shopping for the dreaded dinner. Paul from the business section had unwittingly given her the idea.

  The newspaper’s archives for the year in question had yet to be transferred online, including unpublished articles and research the reporter at the time may have done on any missing persons. Tall Pines Library kept the archives, no doubt collecting dust, but if there were any leads, she’d find them there.

  “Not talking to me now?” Thane smirked. “Real professional, Knox.”

  Madigan swiveled around in her chair. “And it was so professional of you to have lied about the police department.”

  Thane shrugged. “You know what they say about the early worm. Anyhow, how’d you like the front page today?”

  His interview with Chief Banning that he’d tricked her out of had made front page, and she assumed Ornella hadn’t even questioned him when she learned the article had been his alone.

  Madigan picked up her side bag and threw it over her shoulder, grabbing her helmet from the floor under her desk. He stepped in front of her, his chest puffed out and his arms crossed in front of it.

  “You don’t want to work together?” She raised her brow. “That suits me just fine—but stay out of my way.”

  She pushed past him and strutted down the hallway to the front door, feeling his eyes burning into her until she left the building.

  On the way to the library, she passed the on-ramp for the highway to the city. There was one person who could tell her John’s prior last name, something Thane didn’t have, and all it would take was a quick visit.

  This time, I won’t let her avoid the question.

  She made a U-turn and merged into the right lane and onto the highway. The whole way there, she blasted music on the radio, trying to settle her nerves.

  When she arrived, she found a parking spot a long way down the road. As she drifted into it, a man jogged to the stairs of the triplex and looked up and down the street.

  John?

  Madigan took off her sunglasses and squinted in his direction. He jogged up the front steps, looking both ways again before entering the building.