The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  She wondered what John had been made to do as she reached her car and debated paying him a visit. Instead, she took a page from her sister’s playbook. It had gotten her more answers so far.

  She drove in the direction of Bones Bay, hoping John’s employer knew how late he had been working, and moreover, where he’d gone afterwards all those nights he was late getting home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m surprised to see you again so soon,” Evette said.

  John opened the door all the way and stepped to the side. Evette smiled up at her from the same seat on the couch, and Madigan took the seat she had the day before. John closed the door and stood facing it.

  “Please, help yourself to a drink,” Evette said. “Still like room-temperature water?”

  Madigan pressed her lips together and shook her head with a small smile.

  “See, I remember everything,” Evette said, the smile fading from her lips as she picked up the butt of her cigarette. “I could have guessed it was just a phase.”

  “She’s a reporter,” John said, striding into the living room and standing by Evette. “She’s the one who ambushed me, quite literally, that night.”

  “Oh,” Evette said, her mouth remaining open.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Madigan said. “I honestly didn’t know who you were, and I was just doing my job.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” John asked, and Evette stared at her with the same skeptical look.

  “I’ve been thinking about old times,” Madigan said, glancing at the clock.

  Fifteen more minutes. Then I’ll be home in time to start dinner.

  “So have we,” Evette said, nodding. “We were just catching up.”

  John walked around the coffee table and sat on the other end of Evette’s couch.

  “How long’s it been since you two saw each other?” Madigan asked.

  John opened his mouth.

  “Oh,” Evette said, “must be a while now.”

  John shot her a look but kept his mouth shut.

  “I thought you only sent him cards—like me,” Madigan said.

  “Well, we’ve seen each other from time to time. Right, Johnny?”

  He nodded and rested his hands in his lap.

  Why did she lie to me?

  “I’m really am sorry for your loss, John,” Madigan said.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. His long sleeves hid his tattoo, and she willed him to roll them up like they’d been the night she first saw the scorpion.

  “It’s terrible,” Evette said, fussing with her rings. “Just terrible. I was just telling John if he needs me to help organize the funeral services at all—”

  “I told you,” John said. “Her parents will be doing that after they’re finished with her body. They won’t let me have any part of it, I’m sure, and since we were only engaged…”

  Tears welled up in his eyes, and he licked his lips before clearing his throat.

  “It’s just as well they’re taking care of it, Johnny. You’re grieving right now,” Evette said, grabbing a cigarette out of her pack. A taller pile than the day before sat in the ashtray.

  “I’m sure if you speak to them,” Madigan said. “Or maybe write them a letter to let them know how much Lily means—meant to you—”

  “Why are you here?” John lifted his head. “Really, is this for a story?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be here. To my knowledge, you didn’t even visit each other.”

  “We do, Maddie. I just—I didn’t want to say too much yesterday.” Evette lit her cigarette, taking a puff before waving the smoke away.

  “Why?”

  “I’m protective of him.” Evette shrugged, like she couldn’t help it. “I’m his mom. I’d feel the same if, God forbid, you should ever go through something like this. Losing a loved one.”

  Madigan clenched her jaw and sat back, recoiling from the sting and memory of Drew drifting down the river away from her.

  “Seriously,” John asked, “why are you here?”

  I came to find out your last name, but having you here might be even better.

  “John,” Evette said, barely finishing his name before a coughing fit came on.

  Gain his trust. His weakness is the loss of Lily. His strength is his skepticism.

  “I lost someone, too,” Madigan said. “It was almost ten years ago, but I’m still not over it, so I don’t suppose you’ll be in that time, John, I’m sorry to say.”

  John stared at her, his eyes a deeper red than when she’d arrived.

  “I was going to tell you,” Madigan said, turning to Evette. “The day after it happened, I was going to come here and tell you. I wanted you to comfort me. Make it better somehow, like you used to when things were bad. Really bad. They’d never been that bad.”

  Drew’s head disappeared under the water and never came up. The harder she tried to swim, the further away from him she felt.

  They both stared at her.

  Remember why you’re here.

  “I came to admit something,” Madigan said. “I’ve kept all the cards you sent me. Ever since I was eleven.”

  “I’ve kept yours too,” Evette said.

  “Me too,” John muttered.

  Evette stood and rubbed her temple with her index finger. “I’ve got vertigo worse than ever. It takes me a minute after I stand up to get my footing. Patience for me?”

  Madigan nodded and checked the time again.

  Eight minutes.

  She disappeared down the hallway, and Madigan sat in an awkward silence with John until a thump came from down the hall.

  “You alright, Ma?” John called.

  “Fine,” Evette called back.

  “I never knew much about you and your sister,” John said. “Not back then. She’s told me a bit about you since, though.”

  Madigan nodded. “She kept a picture of you. You looked familiar.”

  “Ah. Listen, I’m sorry about your loss. Who was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “My brother. Best brother in the whole world.”

  John pressed his lips together and stared down at his lap as Evette shuffled her way into the living room with a shoebox in each hand. Evette set them on the table and coughed as she bent over, opening one. She took out one of the cards and handed it to Madigan.

  “This is the most recent, and all the way to the back is from when—when you left.”

  Madigan opened the card and pretended to read it, although she still remembered picking it out. Choosing a card with the proper wording always took longer than she liked, but it was important to express her feelings and be true to herself. To their relationship.

  Evette had seemed to do the same.

  While each of Madigan’s cards ended only with her first name, Evette always included the word love.

  Evette handed John a card. “That’s the first one you ever sent me back. After you left.”

  John lifted one leg over the other, resting his ankle against it as he opened the card.

  He’s relaxing. Good.

  “Evette, could I have that glass of water now?” Madigan asked with a smile.

  “O’course,” Evette said, shuffling her way into the kitchen.

  “I came when I was seven, to Eli and Evette’s,” Madigan said. “Left when I was eleven. How about you?”

  “They adopted me at birth. You didn’t know?”

  Madigan shook her head and lowered her voice. “She didn’t really talk about you. Especially not in front of Eli.”

  He nodded. “No, I guess she wouldn’t.”

  “I took my adoptive family’s name.” Madigan leaned forward, still whispering. “I was never more proud than to share my brother’s last name.”

  He nodded. “I kept my birth name. Briar. Only thing I have from my parents, and they insisted it not be changed.”

  Madigan nodded and leaned back. “More than I have. Why did you change it?”

  “I wanted to start over,
” he said, pursing his lips afterward.

  “I know what that’s like.” Madigan stared at her hands in her lap, avoiding his gaze.

  “It’s nice that you get it. I don’t know anyone else who was adopted, or fostered, I mean,” John said.

  “Me either. Just my sister.”

  “Grace,” John said.

  “Madigan,” Evette said, stopping just in front of her with the glass in her frail hand. “I love you and Gracie. And Johnny. You know that?”

  Madigan nodded, although she hadn’t known that for sure back then. She’d since discovered what real love was.

  Evette handed her the glass. “But I tried, and I’m still trying.”

  She picked her cigarette back up from the tray and took a puff before sitting back down, coughing until she got comfortable.

  Madigan glanced at the clock.

  Time to go.

  “Madigan,” Evette said and leaned over her lap. “You kept the cards, and I’m glad for that, but why didn’t you come to me that day? When you needed me? I’d have been there for you. What happened?”

  “The day my brother died,” Madigan said.

  Evette looked around the room and tilted her head back, wiping at her eyes. “So much loss,” she huffed. “I’m so sorry for both of you.”

  “It felt like we’d grown too distant, Evette. It’s hard to explain, I guess.”

  “But you still wanted to come here,” Evette said.

  Madigan nodded.

  “It’s natural,” Evette said, before taking another puff. “Just like Johnny.”

  Madigan gave John a half-hearted smile, and he returned one.

  “We have a connection,” Evette said. “A bond that time and distance just can’t break. I even share one with Gracie, whether she’ll ever admit it or not.”

  Madigan shrugged.

  “I don’t understand that girl,” Evette said.

  Madigan frowned.

  “What?” Evette asked. “I know it was difficult, but she must know I tried. I did my best, and I just don’t think she can appreciate that.”

  “It’s complicated,” Madigan said.

  “Still sticking up for her?” Evette raised her brow.

  “Evette—“ Madigan started.

  “You don’t think I was a good mother either,” Evette said, crossing her arm over her lap. “Just say it.”

  “You’re not going to put that on me,” Madigan said, standing from her chair.

  “No,” Evette said, her voice quivering. “I’m not. You’re a grown woman. You make your own choices. You understand consequences now too. It was my fault. All of it was my fault, and what I said to you the day the police came—”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Ma,” John said, reaching for her hand.

  Madigan opened her mouth, but Evette held up her hand. “I’ll never forgive myself,” Evette hissed. “You were just a child—and you saved us. You ended it.”

  Madigan’s shoulders drooped, and she grabbed both arms of her chair.

  She’s admitting she was wrong. That I did the right thing.

  She doesn’t hold it against me anymore.

  Evette shook her head. “I know I made mistakes, but now I’m all alone. Johnny’s all I have left. When you came yesterday, I was shocked, but it was the best thing to happen to me in a long time. You’ve always been a ray of sunshine, Maddie.”

  Madigan stood in front of her, speechless.

  “I’m glad you came to see her,” John said, grabbing Evette’s hand. “I’m glad I got to meet you. Officially. There was something about you…”

  Madigan nodded and caught the clock from her peripheral.

  Ten minutes late.

  “I should go.” Madigan grabbed a pen from her bag. “I’m leaving you my number, okay?”

  Evette nodded. “Whatever you think of me, and whether or not you decide you want to see me again, when you walk out that door, you hold your head up high, my girl.”

  Madigan wrote her number on the newspaper on the coffee table, wishing she could show Evette that same tenderness John did.

  Finally, just let it go. Forgive her.

  “Good bye, John. Evette, you can call me, alright?”

  Evette released an exaggerated sigh and nodded, smiling up at her.

  “I forgive you,” Madigan whispered before slipping out the first door.

  A weight lifted off her chest as she trotted down the front stairs, repeating one word over and over.

  “Briar.”

  It would help with her search for the paper, and for truth about what really happened that night.

  A nightmare or reality—she had to know.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace entered the shop to hearty laughter and two men standing by the front counter.

  “You tell your son to bring him here next time,” the tall man with salt and pepper hair said before turning to her. “Hello, there. Fine day we’re having.”

  Grace nodded. “Great weather.”

  “Great weather for fishing,” the other man said and nodded to her with a wink. “So, I’m off.”

  “Good luck!” The man nodded and waved as the other passed her, staring at her chest.

  Covered or uncovered. Doesn’t matter to the ones who view women as less than.

  “How can I help you?” The older man asked as he walked back behind the counter.

  “I’m Detective Inspector Grace Sheppard,” she said, and he winced. “I’m investigating Lily Martin’s death. I’d like to speak to the owner, Thom Hanks.”

  “That’d be me,” he nodded and rested his hands on the counter in front of him.

  “I’m here regarding specifics about John Talbot’s employment here,” she said. “Were you working with him the night of the nineteenth?”

  Thom shook his head. “He closed up that night.”

  “Okay, when was the last time you saw John?”

  “Morning of the nineteenth.”

  “How did he seem?”

  Thom shrugged.

  Grace waited instead of making any suggestions for him. People always told you more when it was in their own words, when you forced them to break the silence.

  “He went about his work as usual,” Thom said.

  Didn’t answer my question.

  “Did he seem like his normal self?”

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, but she stared at him.

  “He was working hard; I know that much. We’re just finishing the busy season here, and there’s lots of preparations ahead, so he’s been busy.”

  “Mr. Hanks, how would you describe John’s demeanor that morning?”

  “A little stressed maybe.” Thom shrugged again. “I told you, he’s got lots of work ahead of him.”

  “I need to know his work hours for the past month.”

  “Well, he’s not just an employee,” Thom said. “I made him partner of this place. As such, he makes his own hours. There’s no clock in or out here.”

  So the times he was late were his choice.

  “What can you tell me about the past month, Mr. Hanks? Was John here a lot?”

  “Oh yes, he sure was. He’s here more often than I am, now. That was the point of making him partner—so I could work retirement hours.”

  “Mornings or afternoons?” she asked.

  “Both. John’s a great worker. He didn’t always have a great work ethic, but it developed over those first few years here as his passion for fishing grew. He’s here all the time, before and after close too.”

  “Do you have security cameras here?”

  “You’re not from here, are ya?” Thom laughed. “This isn’t the type of place that needs protection, Ms. Sheppard. No need for that sort of thing here.”

  But they do now.

  “What can you tell me about John?”

  “He’s a great man. This loss has hit him hard. He loved Lily with all his heart—more than anything in the world—I guarantee it.”
<
br />   “John has a history of criminal activity and drug use.”

  Thom pressed his lips together and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, he’s not on drugs and hasn’t been since I became his sponsor. Didn’t relapse once. Not once.”

  He seems sure of it.

  “What do you know of John’s past?”

  Her cell phone vibrated again, and she took it out of her pocket.

  Madigan’s name lit up the screen, and she read the part of her text that showed up on the home screen.

  I’ll be at the dinner from hell but…

  Grace shoved it back in her pocket. “I’m sorry, go on.”

  “I know he’s a different man now than he was back then. Raised by people who adopted him—the father sounds like a nightmare—and went it alone when he was of age. Hooked on drugs since he was a teen, he said, but he didn’t blame anyone but himself. We got him clean, and he’s been sober for well over a decade now. Has to be closer to two.”

  “Did he tell you much about his family?”

  “John doesn’t like to talk about it. Just here and there he’s said some things, a lot of it I forget, but one thing he said struck me. He said good people do bad things, and bad people do good things, but what makes a person good isn’t their intentions. It’s their actions. He said that’s how he changed. He’d always had good intentions, but he realized his actions didn’t match up. He said he wanted to make up for his past. To start new and be the man he always wished he was. He became that man, Detective. He didn’t do anything to Lily.”

  “What did you know of John’s relationship with Lily?”

  “Had its ups and downs like any relationship.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe I’m talking in past tense, here. They had a bright future. They supported each other’s dreams, and now—”

  Now Lily didn’t have a future.

  Lily was dead.

  So was Leah.

  “I understand it’s difficult to think about.” Grace bowed her head, thinking of all the things Leah would miss out on.

  “Do you?” Thom asked, and she peered up at him.

  “I do. It’s a dark void where a bright light used to be.”