The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  “And listen, I have a lead I want to work on. It could give us some solid evidence before we speak to him.”

  “Maybe we let him sweat it out,” Mac said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’s got Malone watching him. He’s not going anywhere. He’s gotta know about the fire too.”

  If we wait, he could have time to form a false alibi.

  “You want to talk to him in the morning instead of tonight?” Grace asked. “Why?”

  “I think he’s scared of something. He’s hiding something, don’t you think?”

  She nodded.

  Thom too.

  “Together,” Grace said. “We go to see him in the morning, together.”

  “Yeah.” Mac turned away from her. “Fine. Eight. We’ll get the story on the vase too. Where Lily put it and all that.”

  He started walking away from her, back down the street, and she searched for Madigan. Her motorcycle was still parked in the same spot, and she saw her sister’s back, not far off, talking to someone behind the fire truck.

  Madigan had parked between John’s house and his only other neighbour’s property on Dorothy’s side of the road. A team of firefighters worked to extinguish the burning fire, and she spotted Jack, Drew’s closest friend, by the wheel of the hose straight away.

  Two cars were parked outside the house, one police and one unmarked, along with the local news van.

  The first time it doesn’t matter, I make it here before Thane.

  Madigan jogged toward the house where two officers unrolled a new line of police tape closer to the road.

  Paul Banning, Chief of Police, stood speaking with one of the firefighters in front of the flames, and not even the reporter and cameraman had approached him yet.

  Where’s Grace?

  Thane’s station wagon pulled up by the curb behind Madigan’s bike. When he saw Madigan, he did a double take, and Madigan laughed to herself.

  He can’t believe I’m here first.

  It’d be funnier if I hadn’t just been fired.

  “Knox,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “What does it matter to you anymore?”

  “I heard you were just fired,” he said, rubbing his chin.

  “News travels fast,” Madigan sighed.

  “Does when I’m around,” Thane said. “Seriously, why are you here?”

  “I want to know what’s happening. I wanted to make sure no one was in there, and, well, I guess you know about my personal connection to the case.”

  “Yeah,” he said, taking out his notepad. “Ornella wants me to look into that more.”

  Madigan pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’m sure she does.”

  “I don’t think it was fair how it all happened.” He pursed his lips and stared past her at the fire, its bright orange lights reflected in his eyes.

  “Wonder where John Talbot is tonight?” he asked.

  Not inside. If he were in there, they’d all be scrambling.

  Maybe he thinks I know where John is.

  Chief Banning and Officer MacIntyre walked toward them.

  “No official statement yet,” Chief Banning said. “But there’s another truck on the way. Fire’s under control for now.”

  “Is there anyone inside?” Madigan asked.

  “We can’t confirm or deny that right now,” Chief Banning said, and Officer MacIntyre whispered something to him as Grace stepped beside him.

  She’s just getting here now?

  I should have called to let her know.

  As Grace pulled the Chief aside, Madigan walked away from the gathering group of news outlets down the line. No lights on at Dot’s place.

  Wonder if she saw anything.

  She caught Jack staring down at her from the firetruck. She nodded to him, but he turned his attention back to the fire.

  Great. He thinks I’m so awkward.

  Officer Mac jogged past her, and Grace followed further behind.

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

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

  She’ll know if John was in there.

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

  No more worries about what I do or don’t know, Grace.

  I’m unemployed now.

  Grace crossed the street and caught up with Mac and stopped in front of Dorothy’s house.

  I have to talk to Dot.

  They stood at the door and looked up at the house before striding down the driveway toward the other neighbour’s house.

  Guess she’s not home.

  When she turned around, the Amherst City news reporter was in front of the camera, as composed as ever.

  I’m not like them. I’m not a professional.

  “So,” Thane said, stepping beside her. “What do you bet whoever set this fire killed Lily Martin?”

  Madigan rolled her eyes. “I’m not placing a bet about a dead woman.”

  “Sorry about your luck, Knox,” Thane said, taking out a cigarette. “For what it’s worth, you almost gave me a run for my money this week.”

  Madigan pressed her lips together and folded her arms in front of her. Thane shrugged and took a puff of his cigarette before walking back across the street as the last of the fire smouldered and grey smoke lingered around the property.

  Her cell vibrated against her side, and she took it out. It was the unidentified number from earlier that day.

  “Hello?”

  Please don’t be a bill collector. I don’t have the patience.

  “Madigan?” a voice said.

  “Yes.” An ache swirled in her stomach. “John?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “I’m at the Whitestone Lodge. Are you at my house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How bad?” he asked.

  “It’s bad.” She huffed. “I’m glad you’re not inside. No one was telling me anything.”

  “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I was with Evette for a while and then took the long drive back to the lodge here. I’m sorry for calling you, but I just needed to know how it was over there.”

  “Why don’t you come? Speak to the police. To Grace?”

  “They’ll be coming to see me soon,” he said. “Could you keep this talk between us? Please?”

  He sounds desperate.

  “I don’t know.”

  I have to tell Grace.

  “I’m sorry to burden you with this,” he said. “I just thought you’d be there for the paper. I’m sorry I called. Take care, alright?”

  He’s reaching out for help.

  “John?” she said, pressing the phone to her ear. “I’m glad you called.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, like I said. I was worried. So don’t feel bad for calling, okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, with warmth to his voice she’d only heard when he spoke to Evette. “Okay.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  She pressed end and walked back toward the small group gathered by the police tape, searching for Grace.

  Jack caught her eye, climbing down from the truck. “Madigan,” he called to her, and she walked toward him. “How are you?”

  “Good.” She nodded. “You?”

  “Busy,” he sighed. “The other truck’s taking care of what’s left of it, but I’ve got to go in and…”

  “And?” She smiled as he froze.

  “And I forgot. I’m speaking to Madigan Knox, reporter for the Tall Pines Gazette.”

  Madigan grinned. “You’re speaking to a friend. Off the record.”

  “I saw your article on the front page,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Congrats.” Ja
ck smiled, putting on his hard hat.

  “Thanks. It’s no big deal.”

  Jack shrugged. “Isn’t that an accomplishment? To make front page news?”

  “I guess.”

  A few lines formed across his forehead as he stared down at her. “You sure you’re good?”

  She nodded. “I’d be even better if you could tell me something about the fire. Strictly off-record.”

  “You know I can’t say anything,” he said, pressing his lips together afterward, but smiling with his eyes. “I don’t really know anything yet anyway, except no one was inside. I’m going in to see if we can determine cause.”

  “Ah,” Madigan nodded.

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “Still riding Drew’s bike,” he said, nodding past her.

  She turned and caught Grace walking toward her bike from her peripheral.

  “Yeah. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Me too.” Jack nodded. “You take care.”

  “You too.” Madigan turned and walked toward Grace. “So?”

  Do I tell her John called?

  Like he said, she’ll find out everything they talked about later anyway.

  “So,” Grace said, putting her hands on her hips. “We’re going to Evette’s. Tonight.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The smooth ride across the highway would have given Grace time to think if Madigan could keep her mouth shut.

  “If John’s childhood was anything like ours, we know more about him than we thought,” Madigan said, and Grace glanced at her for a second before returning her attention to the road. “If he’s closer with Evette, maybe their connection will help you with the case?”

  She had thought of the same scenario and many others like it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if John had turned out the way people would assume an abused, manipulated, and neglected child would.

  Growing up, although Eli controlled the drugs, Evette did them too. Maybe she even had favourites that Eli would bring in just for her, but she didn’t tell the police that when they were caught.

  Finding their file was one of the first things Grace did once she had access to them.

  The day Eli was arrested on charges of possession, dealing, child endangerment, child abuse, and evading the law, Madigan faced some of her own minor charges after dealing to a local teen who’d sell the pills at his high school. Grace had been there too, but she’d had a funny feeling as they rode their bikes to meet with the teen that summer day. She told Madigan, and instead of Madigan accusing her of being a worrywart, or cautioning her of the trouble they’d be in when they got home if they didn’t make the deal, she told Grace to wait in the bushes with their bikes as she met with their contact.

  Grace stayed out of sight as Madigan made the deal, and when the police car drove past the park, Grace shouted to Madigan—tried to warn her it was time to leave by whistling as Eli had taught them—but Madigan couldn’t hear her.

  The police came after her, and instead of stopping or running back to Grace and their bikes, she took one look at Grace and ran the other way. The police caught her after a longer chase through the neighbourhood than they had admitted in the report, and when they found her, she wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t say where she was from or how she had the drugs. The police found their foster parents’ address in her file from their records, and before they called, a female officer found the bruising on her arms and backside.

  Later, Madigan told Grace she hated the woman for noticing the abuse and loved her at the same time. She’d been brought to tears when she finally told Grace about it. She hated the officer because of the trouble she’d get into when, yet again, the police and child services didn’t find enough to back up any claims of abuse or neglect from neighbours or teachers. When Eli would know she got caught on a deal because he’d believe she ratted him out, and the punishment would be far worse than anything she’d ever dealt with.

  But she also loved the officer because she was the only one who made her feel safe besides Grace. Who promised her that she and Grace wouldn’t be hurt by them again if she just told the truth about the abuse, neglect, and drugs. And she was the only person to follow through.

  That day, the police brought them back to their foster home to collect their things as Eli was being cuffed and taken away, and Evette screamed her head off. She’d told them so many times how she protected them. How if it were up to her, they’d be safe together without Eli.

  And yet that day, as he was taken, she spat the cruellest, most vile words at Madigan. Grace couldn’t remember her exact words, but she doubted Madigan could forget them.

  “Maybe Evette could have John come over and…” Madigan continued, but Grace tuned her out.

  But Madigan went back to see her—after all these years.

  Had the ugly scars of the past worn away, or had she found a way to hide them? Deny them in favour of the possibility that the lies Evette told them were true? That she was the good cop and Eli, the bad?

  “… I don’t know if that’s an option. Grace?”

  Do you want to believe her so badly that you can’t see the truth?

  “Grace?” Madigan repeated.

  “Yeah?” Grace said.

  “I said, I guess you just want it to be us and Evette this time,” Madigan said. “I didn’t know if involving John was an option at this point or—”

  “Just us and Evette,” Grace said, sighing. “I’d say you should call to make sure she’s home, but I don’t want to give her the heads up.”

  “I don’t even have her number,” Madigan said. “She’s got mine though.”

  Why am I not shocked?

  “I need you to let me do the talking, alright?” Grace asked. “You’re here to facilitate the meeting and corroborate what you told me earlier this evening if she tries to deny what she said or change her story at all from what she told you. That she didn’t see John. That she had minimal communication with him.”

  “Alright,” Madigan said. “Are you nervous? To see her again?”

  “No.”

  But her heart beat fast.

  This is something else. Not fear. Not nerves.

  “I was,” Madigan said. They got off the highway and merged with city traffic. “I honestly never thought I’d see her again. I just thought it’d be birthday cards until she passed away, and that’s how I’d know she was gone.”

  Grace clenched her jaw, hearing the sadness in her sister’s voice.

  “Have you ever checked up on Eli?” Madigan asked as thunder rolled through the sky.

  “Here comes the rain they needed earlier for the house,” Grace said, looking up at the dark sky.

  “Grace?” Madigan said, and she could tell Grace was staring at her.

  “Yeah. I do. To make sure he’s not getting out.”

  Her answer must have satisfied Madigan because she didn’t speak again until she pointed to a triplex on their right.

  “She’s in the middle one.”

  Grace parked down the road a little. Rain pattered against the windshield as they sat in silence.

  Madigan nodded. “Let’s get going.”

  Grace followed her upstairs and waited as she pressed the button.

  “Who’s there?” a raspy voice came from the other side of the door.

  Grace wouldn’t have been able to identify it, and it threw her off.

  “It’s Madigan. And Grace.”

  “Come in,” Evette said, and the lock clicked out of place.

  There, that sounds like her.

  Dread washed over Grace.

  What if John’s the killer?

  What if Evette becomes part of the investigation?

  What if she knows?

  What if…

  Madigan walked inside without hesitation, as if walking into her own house.

  She’s happy to be here—happy that I’m here.

  Madigan closed the door, and they came face to face with Evette. Her frizzy curls hung on her sh
oulders, and she couldn’t remember Evette having all those wrinkles around her mouth. Black mascara was smudged under her lids, and she blinked her red eyes up at Grace.

  Grace nodded as Evette stared.

  “I know it’s late,” Madigan said.

  “I knew you’d be back,” Evette said. “But I never thought you’d come.”

  The house reeked of cigarette smoke, just like on Warbler Way, and Grace took shallow breaths.

  “I’m here on police business,” Grace said.

  Evette nodded and squinted one of her disapproving looks at Madigan. Madigan walked past her and sat down on an armchair in the small living room.

  Good. Don’t let her get to you.

  “I need to ask you some questions about John Talbot. What’s your relation to him?”

  “He’s my son,” Evette said, sticking out her chin.

  Does she still consider us her daughters?

  No, because John was adopted and we weren’t.

  Just focus on the case, Grace.

  “And how often are you in contact with him?” Grace asked.

  Evette stared at Madigan, as if willing her to send a signal of how much Grace knew.

  She’s not your puppet anymore.

  “How often are you in contact with John?” she repeated.

  Evette took a cigarette out of her package. “We speak monthly—not every week—not usually.”

  “How often do you see him?”

  Evette lit her cigarette and took a puff. “I don’t know, Gracie. Maybe once a month?”

  Don’t say my name like that.

  She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, washing the nickname from focus.

  “Where were you the day before Lily Martin was found dead?” Grace asked. She glanced at Madigan, who stared at Evette.

  “You can cut straight to the chase. I saw Johnny the day before. He told me he was getting out.”

  “Of?” Grace asked before she could go on.

  Madigan frowned, staring at Evette.

  She doesn’t know, either.

  “Of his involvement with some bad men,” Evette said, butting her ash into the ashtray. “He told me he’d been done with it for a while, like a month, but they wouldn’t let him go. That the next night, he’d be done with them for good.”

  Some bad men.