After the Eclipse

by Fran Dorricott

  “My friends call me Cassie,” I said.

  He smiled showing too many teeth. It was almost a grimace. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I swallowed hard and made a mental note not to rise to his bait. With an expression like that, something told me that not all of what he’d heard was good.

  * * *

  “So what you’re telling me is that you have no one who can vouch for your whereabouts this morning,” Fox said. He held his coffee mug in front of him on the table like it was holy water, stroking the handle gently. I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands, which was probably a good thing because I didn’t want to look at Marion right now. She stood in the corner of the room like a ghost.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I would need one. I already told you what I did. I watched the eclipse at home, went to the hospital, then I went for a drive.”

  “Where did you drive to?”

  I let out an exasperated sigh and looked to Marion. She avoided my gaze.

  “I went to visit my Gran in hospital,” I said pointedly. “She has dementia and she was in an accident. I was stressed. And then I drove around afterwards to calm down. I didn’t go anywhere in particular.”

  I raised my chin and stared right at Marion. Marion, who knew what had happened to Gran. Who knew that I was a coward, an anxious mess who self-medicated with sleeping pills and cheap booze – but I wouldn’t hurt anybody. She stayed silent.

  “So, you watched the eclipse – alone?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “And what about the text messages we found on Bella Kaluza’s phone. Can you tell us about those?”

  “Messages plural?”

  “Yes.”

  I shook my head. “I had one. One. Last night. I didn’t know it was her for sure, but I guessed as much. She said she had information about Grace Butler.”

  “And you were going to meet her. To get this information.”

  “Yes, she said after school today.” I pushed down the exasperation that was making my voice sound reedy.

  “What about the second text?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “This morning,” Fox said. “Bella sent you another text from her phone just before she left home confirming that she was going to meet you. She left her phone on the kitchen table.”

  “I didn’t… I don’t…” I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. My phone. “I didn’t see it. I was…” I looked at Marion. “I was drinking last night. I didn’t check my messages after that one I told you about. I didn’t see the one from this morning. I don’t even have my phone on me right now.”

  Fox stared at me, his eyes flashing.

  “You can do a damn cavity search if you want,” I snapped. “This is ridiculous. Surely you can see that I didn’t text her back today. Why would I hurt her? I was trying to help find her best friend. If I was going to meet her this afternoon why would I have seen her this morning?”

  “Matthew,” Marion said, quiet enough that at first I thought I’d imagined it. But when I looked at her I could see concern on her face. “We talked about this. She’s not a suspect.”

  “Isn’t she? She’s been seen talking to these kids outside school by a teacher; she’s harassed the parents of one of the missing children; she’s been making a general nuisance of herself – and she might be the last person who spoke to Bella Kaluza before she went off radar. It doesn’t exactly look good.”

  Marion opened and closed her mouth. Her skin was pale, her eyes glassy. She hadn’t intended for any of this to happen.

  “I was just doing my job!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m a journalist, that’s what I do. I ask questions – which is more than you seem to be doing.”

  “You’re on thin ice, Miss Warren. Don’t push me.”

  Fox’s eyes were steely. I could see right then what he was: a career ball-buster. Tough on cases, tough on suspects. Probably good at his job – but no flexibility. The thought of Marion with this guy made me squirm.

  I didn’t dare open my mouth for fear of what might come out so I clamped my lips shut tight, only just resisting the urge to bare my teeth at him.

  “Matthew,” Marion said again. “Please don’t.”

  The room fell into silence. Just a moment. Long enough for me to see that she’d rattled him, made him question himself.

  “You’re treating me like I’m a suspect,” I said coldly, “when I’m just trying to help. I’m putting myself at risk, here.”

  Fox’s gaze snapped back to me. “What do you mean by that?” he said. I stared at him in stony silence. “Miss Warren, withholding information from the police is a very serious offence.”

  I clenched my fists. Stupid. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I sighed and turned to Marion.

  “Look, I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it. And then with Gran, I was worried that it was… my fault. But I’ve been getting these messages – texts. Telling me to back off. Threatening. Even before I knew what I was looking at.

  “It’s as though I’m onto something. But I don’t know…” I faltered. Marion was staring at me as though I’d just stabbed her through the heart and she couldn’t understand it. “But I don’t know what I know,” I added. “And I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Fox frowned. “You realise this is very serious,” he said. “We’ll have to look at your phone. Have you any idea who might be sending these messages?”

  I avoided Marion’s gaze. I didn’t want to be stuck in here, waiting, while they proved my story. Not with another girl missing, and the eclipse like a ghostly clock counting down the hours since her disappearance… A hundred and forty-six hours… I remembered the toll after Olive had been taken. A hundred and ninety-two hours… No new leads… I had to give them something else.

  “There was a man outside the school the last time I was there,” I said slowly. “He told me he was allowed to be there but it was a bit weird. He said he knows Grace – and I think he knows Bella too but I’m not sure. I let him type his name into my phone. They could be from him.”

  “Who is he?” Marion asked, her back rigid and her lips drawn in a thin line.

  “His name is Darren Walker.”

  21

  ON THE WAY HOME Marion was silent, but I could see her expression flickering between guilt and hurt. Her shoulders were tense and her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the lucky ring she wore on her index finger dug into the skin. The streets passed by in a grey blur in the late-afternoon light and I stared out of the window so I didn’t have to look at her.

  I ignored the anger that burbled away inside me and tried to focus instead on her guilt. I was glad she felt bad. The way she’d treated me wasn’t fair – she knew me. And if she felt bad, then there was hope.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the threats?” she asked as we pulled into my driveway. “I could have done something.”

  I shook my head. “I told you. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to—”

  “You were worried I would have made you stop.” Marion sighed, her shoulders bobbing. “I get it. We’ll track down this guy and see if he can give us some answers.” She didn’t look away from the windshield. “It might be harmless but given what you told us I don’t want to take any chances. Can we please see if we can find your phone now?”

  “I want to find it too,” I said. “I’ve probably got a hundred texts.” That was a lie but it didn’t matter. Both of us wanted to find it. The thought that Bella was gone, missing too, made me feel like the whole world was spinning backwards – something was going on right under my nose and I just couldn’t figure it out.

  “I think you need a shower,” Marion said turning to me. “I can still smell it on you.”

  I didn’t want to acknowledge this, but Marion didn’t turn the car off until I looked at her.

  “How much did you drink last night?”
she asked, very quietly now.

  I unclipped my seatbelt and started to get out of the car, but Marion reached out for me, grabbing onto my arm.

  “How much?” she pressed.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “A few glasses? Half a bottle? Please Cassie, I’d like to know. You were driving around this morning – the way you spoke to Fox…”

  “What does it matter?” I snapped. “I’m an adult, and sometimes I like to have a drink and just chill out. Gran wasn’t there and I needed to wind down. I didn’t think I’d be needing a bloody alibi. I was fine to drive and anyway who else have I got—”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Why should I? You were probably with Dick Cop back there.” I yanked my arm away from her and got out of the car.

  I stomped up the driveway with my hands inside my jeans pockets, angry at myself for my outburst. I didn’t have the patience for this. While we were here, she wasn’t out there doing her job. While we were arguing, Marion wasn’t ever going to find Grace or Bella and bring them home.

  “It isn’t like that, Cassie.”

  We went into my house. It was empty and cold. Without Gran the whole place felt haunted. I realised just how much I missed her.

  We split up in the lounge, where Marion left me looking for my phone as she headed into the kitchen.

  “If you find it, I need to see it first,” Marion informed me. “Before you do anything else.”

  “Yeah, like chuck it at your head,” I muttered under my breath.

  When we finally found it, it was on the ground near the garden gate, the screen black and cracked right from top to bottom.

  “I’ll have to send it to our lab.”

  “Great. Screen’s fucked anyway.”

  While Marion fiddled with the evidence bag and then some paperwork, I wandered back into the house and collapsed on the sofa.

  “Cassie, you’ve got that look.” I didn’t move at the sound of her voice. She was in the doorway again, and I could see her out of the corner of my eye, running the necklace I’d bought her between her fingers and looking awkward as hell.

  “What look?”

  “That one. The look that means you’re going to do something stupid.” Marion hesitated for a second and then came further into view, stepping around so that she was facing me. “Please, don’t.”

  “Marion, you just hauled me into a police station. I’m supposed to just, what, sit here and take it? Ride it out as though my pride doesn’t mean anything? Come on. You know me better than that.”

  Marion sucked on her teeth, anger making her jaw tight. “I’m sorry about that, okay? I didn’t think he’d be quite so vicious. We just had some – inconsistencies. You know. I thought at the most you might have some information you weren’t sharing. And I was right about that, wasn’t I? You never told me about this Walker bloke before, or the texts.”

  “I didn’t tell you about the texts but I tried to tell you about Walker. You wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Marion’s face softened, and she took a step towards me, indecision on her face. Then she took another step closer, bent and lifted my chin gently with her hand. Where her skin met mine it was like an electric shock.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I want to make it up to you. I was a cow. I didn’t mean to be but I had to do it. Fox pushed, hard. Will you come over later, please? I’ve been working for days straight and I’ve got a couple of hours tonight to grab dinner. We can just… sit. Watch TV. Talk – I don’t know. Just spend some time together away from all of this. Or I can come to you if your gran is coming home?”

  I didn’t say anything immediately, because I didn’t know how I felt. The offer seemed like it was more than just a suggestion; it felt like Marion was offering me a lifeline, and I couldn’t tell her whether, in a few hours, I’d be strong enough to take it.

  I remembered the first time Marion had touched my jaw like that, run her finger across it as she had done just now. Our noses pressed close together, a blanket pulled over our heads so nobody could see us. Gran’s sofa had felt like another world, a world of endless possibilities – at least until Olive had come in and ruined it.

  That was before Fox. Before Helen. It was before the world ate us whole and spat us out; before we started to hate each other, just that little bit, and the guilt we mirrored in each other.

  I thought again of Gran. The accident and the text messages. A shiver raced down my spine. What if, just by being with her, I was putting Marion in danger? I couldn’t lose her again.

  “All right,” Marion said, stepping back as she saw the look on my face. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just want to be there for you.”

  22

  ONCE MARION HAD GONE I sat in my lounge, the world feeling empty. My insides were hollow, my stomach growling. But I couldn’t face food.

  I had done this. To Bella. If she hadn’t stopped to text me would she have been late? Would she have been safe at school in time for registration at the end of the eclipse, gossiping excitedly with her friends?

  I’d put her life in danger, just like I’d done with Gran. Like I was going to do with Marion if I couldn’t distance myself from her. You could have done more, said the voice inside my head.

  As I sat, I heard the landline ring. I checked the caller ID to make sure it wasn’t the hospital and then I ignored it. The answerphone picked up and Henry’s voice filtered out. He was checking up on me. Letting me know he’d heard about Bella. I stopped listening.

  You could have done more. More. Always more. I was sick of the guilt. I ground my teeth and grabbed my laptop. This was more than just a job. I had to do more. More, more, more…

  I started to research, digging up Bella Kaluza’s Facebook page, her Instagram. It seemed she had accounts on several sites despite not being old enough. I devoured every news article I could find, no longer shying away like I had done with Grace. Bella Kaluza, eleven years old from a Polish family. Her parents, it seemed, were going through a messy divorce.

  Just like Olive.

  The thought echoed in my mind. I scrolled through pages of well-wishing commenters, plans for searches along the south and west edges of the lake, the woodland and the fields towards the north, the suburbs and their parks. I saw the same names popping up again and again, two teachers from Arboretum Secondary School and a man who ran a karate class two streets off the Circle. I noted all of their names down. I knew that it wasn’t uncommon for guilty parties to insert themselves into the police investigation and the thought made my blood boil.

  The landline rang. Again I screened it, then ignored it. I went back to my laptop, my brain whirring as I devoured social media pleas for Bella’s return, scanned comments from well-wishers and teenage hopefuls, grasping for something – anything – and getting nothing.

  Bella’s Instagram was photo after photo of books piled high, and fairy lights and artistic arrangements of flowers around Young Adult novels. So Bella, like Olive, loved to read.

  The feeling made me hot, bile rising. The similarities kept on coming. Bella had been in the newspaper her last year of primary school when she won a fancy-dress competition for World Book Day. She got the highest grades. She quoted Darwin and goddamn Nietzsche on her Facebook page and shared articles about space and science too complicated for my brain to comprehend.

  Just like Olive.

  But how did Grace fit into all of this?

  I got into my car intending to drive to Bella’s house, but once I was on the road I hesitated. What good would that do? The hacks would be out in force, and if they got wind of my interview with the police then I wouldn’t be able to move about unnoticed. Even if I wasn’t a suspect my name would be linked to Bella’s disappearance and Olive’s face would be everywhere. And, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about writing about Bella. Or writing at all.

  No, better to get a sense for the police investigation first. I drove aimlessly for a while, sorti
ng through my thoughts. When I finally came to my senses, I was idling outside Marion’s.

  * * *

  I sat in my car with the windows rolled down despite the coolness of the evening. Marion wasn’t there, and I didn’t have a mobile phone to call her now, but I wasn’t ready to go home either. I thought about Henry in his hotel. I could go to him, have dinner, but I just didn’t want to. I wanted Marion.

  I turned the radio on to distract myself, hopping between stations for a good ten minutes. A song here, two more there. There were two girls missing in Bishop’s Green. Two. If one was a coincidence, what did that make two?

  As I sat I couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness. Marion ought to be home already. It was nearly nine and she’d been working late all week. Surely at some point she would have to sleep? What if something was happening right now and I was sitting here without a phone or any way for her to tell me? I flicked between stations, unable to settle on any for long.

  Wrong. Something is wrong.

  I pushed the thought down and kept my eyes trained on the street, where Marion’s car should appear at any moment. Still she didn’t come.

  As the clock ticked over on the hour, the music on the Bishop’s Green local station stopped playing and a newscaster started to read. I wasn’t really listening, only half an ear focused on the distorted chatter.

  But then I heard it.

  “Breaking news on missing local girl Grace Butler.”

  I held my breath, unable to smother the fear that shot through me.

  “Police have announced this evening that missing local pre-teen Grace Butler has been found. At four o’clock this afternoon, Grace and her father – who police had been trying to locate – were spotted coming out of a campsite in Scotland.

  “Her father told police that he had been unaware of Grace’s so-called ‘disappearance’, knowing only that she came to visit him while he had some time off work. The two decided to go camping – and only today was it revealed to him that his daughter had not informed her mother of her whereabouts.