The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  “That’s a great idea.” Will nodded, and Madigan sat back in her seat.

  “Of course,” Maureen said, “they might need more credentials than someone who’s only made the front page of her local paper once.”

  “Mom,” Will said.

  “I’m just saying,” Maureen said, holding her hands up in front of her. “Maybe a bit more experience would do you some good, Madigan. Couldn’t hurt to pad the resume. Unless, of course, you don’t plan on working after having children. Might not be worth it, then.”

  Madigan almost choked on her broccoli.

  “No plans for children,” Madigan said after swallowing. “I’m just going to get myself another drink. Would anyone—”

  “No children?” Maureen placed her hand over the center of her chest and glared at Will. “She can’t be serious.”

  Madigan started to stand, but Will grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

  “Maybe we should move on to dessert?” Will asked.

  “That sounds great,” Madigan said. “Right after your mom tells me why it’s any of her business whether I want kids or not.”

  “Ha,” Maureen laughed. “I want grandchildren, Madigan. I know my son wants children, too. You’re…who he has chosen to be with. That’s why it’s my business.”

  “We haven’t discussed that, yet,” Will said. “That’s a conversation for Madigan and me.”

  “Of course,” Maureen said, rubbing his shoulder. “I’d have thought you’d already discussed something so important.”

  “Dessert sounds great.” Will’s dad nodded to Madigan.

  She stood from the table and marched to the kitchen, rolling her eyes and pulling her cell phone from her pocket. One missed call from an unknown number and another two from work.

  Maybe something happened with the case.

  She hit the word Work on the screen and leaned against the counter.

  “Hello, Madigan?” Ornella said.

  “Hi, Ornella. What’s going on?”

  “I tried to call you earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I’m sorry,” Madigan whispered. “I was having dinner with my boyfriend’s parents.”

  “Alright. An important piece of information has come to my attention and has forced my hand. I’m afraid since you’ve been keeping your personal connection to one of the suspects in the investigation into Lily Martin’s death, and other pertinent information to the case from The Gazette, I have no choice but to let you go.”

  Madigan’s chest heaved as she steadied herself against the counter.

  “Would you be this upset if Thane had used his personal connections?” Madigan shook her head. “Thane can do no wrong in your eyes. How did you find out?”

  “About your foster connection to John Talbot?” Ornella folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Let’s just say I have employees here who are true professionals and know how to find crucial information and the importance of sharing it with the company.”

  Thane.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Madigan said.

  I never belonged at the paper.

  I’m not a true professional.

  I’m nothing.

  She took shallow breaths, pressing the phone to her ear.

  “Madigan, your actual writing is average at best. You put your own personal gains above telling the truth, which is what we’re about here at this paper. It’s what professional journalists do.”

  “I thought you were about selling papers, Ornella,” Madigan spat.

  Madigan remembered her confrontation with Thane the day before, and the search information she must have left on her computer before she left the office with him standing by the cubicle.

  “My employees remember their journalistic integrity—”

  “Journalistic integrity—ha.”

  “You always make it personal.”

  Madigan opened her mouth to argue, but she was right.

  She wanted to work on stories that meant something to her. To the community. To find the truth and let it be known. To inform her community. To hold people accountable for what they’d done. To make things better and make a difference.

  As long as the paper employed her, they’d stand in her way of each of those objectives. Her own writing abilities would stand in her way.

  I’m not good enough.

  Who did I think I was?

  “Best of luck on your future endeavors, Madigan,” Ornella said, and Madigan could tell she was smiling. “Cindy will bring you any personal belongings you may have left here, if you’d like to call her and arrange that.”

  Madigan shook her head.

  Not even allowed back in the building.

  Maureen’s heels clicked across the tile and stopped just before they reached her. Madigan pressed the end button and set her phone on the counter.

  What now?

  “If I said something that upset you, I apologize.” Maureen pressed her lips together and folded her hands in front of her. Will and his dad rounded the corner.

  She knew what she’d done, and pretending she didn’t was probably just one more way she acted her way through life, but Madigan wanted her gone. She wanted them all gone and wished they hadn’t come in the first place.

  Will’s shoulders hung forward, and his straight face hurt her to see.

  He’s disappointed.

  Just keep it together a bit longer—for him.

  Madigan nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for dinner.” Maureen hugged her, tapping her back as Will came to her side, smiling.

  It’s okay. It’s okay.

  “We’ll be skipping dessert to get home before the storm,” Maureen said.

  A storm? The dark sky seems calm, but any excuse for them to leave is a good one.

  “I’m glad you’re both alright,” Will’s dad said and put his arm around Madigan as she parted ways with Maureen. He pressed the itchy wool from her sweater against her skin, and she found the urge to scratch it.

  “Son,” his dad said, shaking his hand, “we’re proud of you, and I have every confidence that you’ll do great at the conference. You’re a smart young man, and we trust you’ll do right in this world.”

  However fake they seemed at times, their love for Will was real.

  Their awkward, stiff love.

  Maybe I’m jealous?

  “Thanks, Dad,” Will said and showed them to the door. “Have a safe drive home.”

  “Come by tomorrow after work,” Maureen said. “I’ve got delicious apple pie waiting for you.”

  Nope. Not jealous. Irritated by their facades and judgments.

  And I tried to be someone I’m not to please them.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Will laughed, and he waved as his parents walked down the driveway.

  “Wow,” Madigan whispered.

  They stepped back inside and shut the door.

  “You don’t have to say I told you so,” Will said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed to have my parents here.”

  Madigan shook her head, and he wrapped both arms around her, rubbing the itchy wool against her skin once more.

  “Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking you shouldn’t feel bad to want to invite your parents over, but I shouldn’t have been attacked like that.”

  “Attacked?” he asked, pulling away with a grin on his face.

  “Okay,” Madigan said, sighing, “maybe that’s dramatic, but I’m not here for her to make me feel this small and stick her nose in my business. I mean, kids? We haven’t been together a year.”

  The smile faded from Will’s face, and he took a step back.

  “Listen, my mom was rude. You know how she can be. I should have listened to you—but this isn’t how it’s always going to be, you know.”

  Madigan sighed, wondering what a life filled with Maureen’s judgments and arguments over family dinners would be like.

  “I do
n’t want to find out,” Madigan said, shaking her head.

  “Babe,” he said.

  He never calls me that with his parents around.

  “Once my mom realizes we’re together for the long term, I’m sure things will be better. They’ll be amazing, actually.”

  “I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.”

  Will frowned. “You normally are.”

  She shook her head and shrugged, recalling Ornella’s words.

  I’m a bad writer.

  I always make it personal.

  I’m not good enough.

  “I’m just not having a good night,” Madigan said, pulling her sweater over her head, leaving her tank top on and freeing herself of the frustrating itch.

  “Is it true?” Will asked. “You don’t want kids?”

  “Not anytime soon. Can we not—”

  “Hold on,” he said, pulling her in closer. “I’m not attacking you, alright? It was already brought up, and it’s almost been a year, babe. I know things with your folks might be complicated, and I know your past with adoption and foster homes might factor into your decision about children, but I think you’ll change your mind.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me and my life.” Madigan pulled away from him. “My relationship with my parents isn’t just complicated. They—they blame me for what happened to Drew. Not directly, but I was the only one with him at the time, and I think they wish I’d done something. That I could have—”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Will wrapped his arms around her.

  “I wish I could have saved him too,” she cried.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “That’s my fault,” she whispered. “I just wasn’t ready to share that yet. It’s hard.”

  She tried to catch her breath and let herself relax in his arms. “It’s hard to even admit it to myself.”

  “Okay,” he said, “that’s—I understand, and you have to know, it wasn’t your fault. That was an accident. You couldn’t do anything about it.”

  Madigan nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes as he bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “I didn’t mean to push you, okay? Now that I know, I won’t mention your parents unless you want to talk about it, alright?”

  She nodded again, and her shoulders drooped. Drained and exhausted, as her cell phone rang, she remembered the unknown number.

  What now?

  Cindy’s name flashed across the screen.

  “Leave it,” Will said. “Let’s go to bed and cuddle up, alright? I’ll give you a nice massage.”

  She held his hand as they walked back to the kitchen.

  “I’ll clean this up and meet you up there, okay? Hey, dinner tasted amazing.”

  “You’re the best,” Madigan whispered and walked back to the stairs as her cell buzzed in her hand again.

  A voicemail. She pushed the button and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Madigan, Ornella just called to tell me—well, that she let you go, and I’m so sorry. She told me you’ll be calling about your things. I won’t—”

  Mumbling in the background distracted her.

  “Sorry,” Cindy said. “There’s a fire at John Talbot’s house. I have to make some calls. Talk soon, alright? Call me anytime.”

  A fire.

  Madigan hung up and turned back to Will.

  “Work?” he asked, defeated.

  Kind of.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry your night was spoiled.”

  Will shook his head and followed her to the front door where she grabbed her keys.

  “Do you have to go?” he asked, and she bit her lip. “I guess that’s a yes.”

  “Sorry, this is big.”

  “Sure,” he muttered, nodding.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, but as the words left her mouth, she knew that’s what she’d been promising for the last half of their relationship.

  “Sure,” Will said again and turned away, walking back toward the kitchen with his head hung down. It wasn’t like him to not at least fake a smile to make her feel better.

  Will or the other?

  That’s the choice she had to keep making, and she rarely chose him.

  Tonight…

  She swayed in the doorway, feeling each second slip by and the fire growing in John’s home.

  What if John’s still inside?

  She grabbed her jacket and swung the door shut behind her, rushing down the steps toward her bike.

  Tonight would be the same—her own solemn escape into the unknown.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Fire at John Talbot’s house,” Banning said. “I’m on my way now.”

  “Fire?” Grace asked, standing beside her bed.

  “I told Mac to call you,” Banning said, mumbling to himself. “Just get out there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Grace hung up and scrambled to her feet, grabbing her jacket and slipping her cell phone into her pocket before strapping on her holster.

  Of course Mac wouldn’t call.

  As she pulled onto the main road, smoke swilled up into the sky above John’s neighbourhood.

  John, where are you? Please don’t be inside.

  A fire usually meant someone was sending a warning, or there was something someone wanted to destroy.

  Did you set the fire, John?

  Maybe someone’s got something to hide from the night Lily died.

  As Grace turned down his street, a fire truck sat several meters away from John and Lily’s on their neighbour Dorothy’s side of the road. The local news van had a reporter getting ready to go live, no doubt, and Mac stood out front with Chief Banning, speaking to Madigan and another man beside her.

  Even Madigan knew before me.

  As Grace got out of the car, she glanced over at the neighbour’s home.

  Have you seen anything, Dorothy?

  “That’s all we’ve got,” Banning told Madigan and the other man. “Please leave room for the firefighters to do their job.”

  Banning stepped away from them and turned to Grace.

  “What do we know so far?” she whispered.

  “Someone driving past the street called it in,” he said.

  Mac stepped beside them. “John was apparently in the city and then out for a drive again.” His gruff voice sounded even more coarse than usual. Tired.

  “No alibi?” Grace asked.

  “We’ve got Malone on him now back at the motel,” Banning said. “After you speak to the neighbours, I want you talking to him.”

  Grace nodded. “From now on, he needs a tail on him at all times.”

  Banning nodded. “Done.”

  Mac stepped aside and started for the police tape.

  “Stick with him.” Banning nodded toward Mac. “His bark’s worse than his bite, okay?”

  Grace nodded and stared at the flames.

  “Shouldn’t be too long before it’s out,” Banning said.

  Grace stepped back while staring up at the flames. She turned toward the police tape, and Madigan stood on the other side, waiting for her, while Mac had already jogged across the street.

  “Grace,” Madigan said as Grace ducked under the tape and lowered her voice. “Have you told them about what I said? About Evette maybe knowing something?”

  Grace shook her head and kept walking down the boulevard. “Not a word, alright? Not until we see her.”

  Madigan stopped and reached for her arm, but Grace kept going.

  “Listen, I have work to do,” Grace said. “If you find out anything, text me before you put it in an article, alright? Call you in the a.m.”

  I shouldn’t have snipped at her.

  It’s not her fault she was here before me.

  She left Madigan behind as she crossed the street and caught up with Mac as he stopped in front of Dorothy’s front door. He knocked and waited.

 
; “Her car’s not out front,” Grace said.

  “Was it the other day?” Mac asked.

  I don’t remember. Damnit.

  Why didn’t I pay attention to that?

  Mac turned around and strode down her pathway as Grace followed.

  “Thanks for calling me,” Grace huffed as she caught up with him.

  “We’re not working together anymore,” Mac said.

  “Actually, Banning said I’m still on the case. Got the go-ahead from the DA, and I think it’s in the best interest of the case to pool our resources.”

  Mac let out a short burst of laughter. “You saying you need my help?”

  “I’m saying we should put our differences aside for the sake of the case,” she said. “We’re questioning people twice; you’ve kept things from me—”

  “If I believed you’d be a help to me,” Mac said without looking over at her, “maybe I’d agree, but I’m not here to carry your weight.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Grace said, walking double time to keep up with him.

  Mac turned up the driveway to the other neighbour’s house, and she followed him. The couple hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual, and until the fire truck showed up, they had been asleep, unaware of the fire. As they walked back down the driveway, Grace stood in front of him, stopping him.

  He’s acting like a petulant child. Someone has to take the high road.

  “Before we go to see John,” she said, “I want you to know I went to see his employer turned partner today.”

  Mac frowned. “Why?”

  “If I knew you’d already been there, maybe I wouldn’t have. He said John’s been sober—he’s his NA sponsor too—but he also wasn’t up front or open about John’s state of mind the morning of Lily’s death.”

  Mac scratched his chin and glanced down the street at the fire. “I didn’t get that impression. He didn’t have any new info when I asked.”

  Maybe you didn’t ask the right questions.

  Grace shrugged, trying to bite back her opinion.

  “The friend John met up with that night, Luke?” he said. “His alibi? He’s got several drug-related arrests on his record.”

  “So if John’s clean, why is he hanging around him?”

  “I didn’t think much of it except poor taste in friends,” Mac said. “I want to follow up on the guy. See if they have any mutual friends with similar backgrounds.”