“I don’t understand.” She directed her question to the ruins, barely loud enough for Steve to hear. “Why do they pretend he’s still alive?”
“Somebody ought to be in charge. It’s unbearable otherwise.”
Chapter 3
– I Am With You Now –
The next morning Emma stood on the pier while two men hauled Evan’s body onto the dinky charter vessel bound for Perth. He was wrapped in a plastic tarpaulin to preserve as much evidence as possible. One of the men couldn't remember Evan's last name when asked, and the other seemed reluctant to let go of such a nice tarp. The captain huffed and crossed his arms at the idea of loading a cargo that didn't pay. Emma watched from a supervisory distance. She tried to remember something nice about Evan and came up with nothing. The wind whipped the morning fog into pretty little spirals that smelled like seagull shit.
She turned and approached Zoe, who was hanging back by the chip shop. The young woman met her halfway and started talking without offering to shake her hand.
“Yesterday brought to today so lightly, a yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.”
“Come again?”
“Nothing. Just some old rot.”
“Miss Hall, right? Sorry we had to give you a welcome like this.” She attempted a smile. Zoe smiled back.
“It's alright. You're Ned's second, I understand.”
Emma's smile flickered and Zoe's eyebrows wrinkled in the middle.
“Yes. P.C. Emma Cambourne. Emma. I guess there have been a lot of developments since you left.”
“I got a bit of it from Jessie.”
“Word travels quickly.”
Zoe’s eyes circled the harbor. “Well, it doesn't have far to travel on South Alderney. It's funny. Ned tries to off himself. Then his best friend visits Evan, and Evan kills himself. And now I suppose the closest thing Evan had to a friend... is me.”
“I wouldn't think too hard about it.” Emma tried to sound reassuring. In police dramas they would put a hand on a person's shoulder, but surely nobody does that sort of thing in real life.
Zoe reflected her concern perfectly. “Oh, I know sometimes these things just happen.”
“Right. Mind you, we are going to consider everything. Once the lab reports come back, we'll know for sure if there is any evidence of foul play. But I doubt it.”
“Must be a red-letter day for village gossip. Let me guess. Someone has put forward the theory that Evan was overwhelmed by guilt at having stolen Greg's nice telly.”
“No one has mentioned it to me so far.”
“Give it time. On this island, everyone has time to think. I love it. Has anyone tried to convince you the devil did it?”
“Not yet. Should I be worried?”
“Do you believe in the devil?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then you have no reason to worry.”
Emma chuckled. “There was one woman who tried to convince me that murderers are afoot. Showed me some bones bitten in half to prove it.”
Zoe’s smile flickered. “Bitten?”
“I guess she thought a person did it? Probably just some local carnivore.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
“I’m not a scientist.” Emma paused, unsure what to say next. “I'm going to the station. We could walk there together.”
The two women walked side by side up the hill. Zoe was the sort of person Emma expected to work for the Antarctic Survey: confident, unflappable, probably water resistant to a hundred meters. After a minute she noticed Zoe's steps were perfectly in sync with her own.
“Did you have a chance to meet everyone since you came to the island?”
“Not really. I haven’t had time.”
“Really? That’s interesting. Well, you’ll have plenty of opportunity. You’ve met Jessie, at least. What about Red?”
“Big man at the pub? Yes. Why?”
“I like Red. He’s a barrel of laughs, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know that I would describe him that way.”
The ensuing silence struck Emma as a question. “I can’t say I’ve fully enjoyed anyone here.” Emma’s shoulders jerked. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“Yes you did, and it’s fine. Would you like to hear a secret?”
Emma stared at her.
“I feel the same way.”
Emma regained a sliver of her composure. “What kind of scientific work do you do at the station?”
“Not much science, not much work. Mostly we try to keep the beer supply from piling up.”
“Yeah, I got that impression from Evan.”
“Not really your speed around here, is it?”
“I don’t like feeling like I’m standing still.”
“I couldn't agree more. The sun and the wind move around the island, but none of the people ever go anywhere. Do you think it ought to be lonely here?”
“I think most people from the outside would go crazy doing what you and Evan do. Did. The locals seem reasonably well adjusted.”
“Yes and no. I take it you left friends back home?”
“Of course. And a cat.”
“And you'd say they were a big part of your life?”
Emma’s fingers fussed at the buttons of her coat. “Are you trying to make some kind of point? Because I don't see where this is going.”
“I'm trying to figure out how much of yourself you leave behind when it's just you. What's left of Emma when she's stuck on an island? Is it the good parts?”
“I think you'll find I'm not the sort of person who needs a lot of social validation. Good try, though. Does that usually get under people’s skin?”
“No. Not the first time.” Zoe didn’t wait for a reply before changing the subject. “Jessie tells me you've got a ball and chain with you.”
“Yes, David is my husband.”
There was a pause.
“I hope I'm not prying, but is your husband well?”
Emma sighed. “Jesus, does that woman put out a newsletter? He has a condition that causes progressive memory loss.” So everyone knew. Fine. Get the gossip out of the way in time to focus on the important business at hand.
“I'm sorry. That must be very hard for you.”
“Some days are better than others. Mostly it's...” Emma had reached her usual limit of sharing feelings with strangers the moment she said “hello.” But she couldn't stop herself. The sweet, small voice kept chipping away at her. “It feels like it's happening to me, which is obviously not fair. It feels...”
“Like you're the one disappearing?”
Emma stopped dead. Zoe turned and listened patiently.
“Yes. That's exactly what it feels like.”
The two continued up the hill one step at a time.
“Emma, can I ask you a personal question?”
“The accent?”
“Right.”
“I'm American. Not sure if there's more to tell than that.”
“I didn't think the Met hired foreign police officers.”
Emma didn't respond.
“Oh well, I guess they do. You would know after all. Had you ever heard of South Alderney before? I mean before you came here?”
“I can't say that I remember ever hearing about it before this assignment.”
“That's odd, don't you think? I think that's odd. Did you hear about His Excellency? More work for you, I’d imagine. I want to do anything I can to help you. Any way I can help you find the truth, let me know.”
Emma sighed and Zoe let out her own puff of air.
“Look, Zoe, I know you're eager to get up to speed since you've been away, but do you think maybe we could walk and not talk?” Emma scowled at the middle distance and wrapped her coat tightly around herself.
Zoe smiled. “Been away? I never left.”
Her smile faded as Emma stared at her in confusion. The hard-won respite lasted almost to the top of the hill, when Emma broke her own sile
nce.
“What's that smell?”
“What smell?”
“You don't smell that? It's like... something died and then went for a swim.”
They turned the last corner around a boulder of volcanic rock and found David standing in the doorway of the station.
“What are you doing here?”
“You thought you could get away without eating anything? It's nearly lunch time.” He lifted a stained paper bag from the chippy.
“Mystery solved.”
“Sorry about the smell. I tried to convince Gregory to sell me a sheep, but he's suspiciously fond of the thing. Miss Hall.”
Zoe nodded. “You’re the husband.”
“Guilty, I’m afraid. You’re English?”
“I guess so.”
“Whereabouts in England?”
“East London. Barking and Dagenham.”
“Nice area. Hardly Essex at all. You don't find it too stifling around here?”
David's face gave nothing away, and Zoe's tone was equally factual.
“It's not so bad, once you get used to the damp.” She looked at Emma as she continued. “Evan and I used to pass the time thinking up emergency prank calls to container ships from South Africa. Not that we ever did it. Now I guess it's going to be lonelier up on the hill.”
Emma couldn't resist the bait.
“You ought to be pretty good at being alone in your line of work. You two must have come up with better ways of handling isolation than imaginary distress calls over the radio.”
“We'll all find out together how we cope with it, won't we? I'm going to check the weather data from Amsterdam Island against our own, if you want to join me. It's work the Governor General would normally do, if we had one.”
“I think I might steal my wife for a little bit, if you don't mind.” David lifted the paper bag, causing a slight squishing sound.
Emma knew she was beaten. She had berated him for not taking care of his own needs so many times that she had no choice, lest she risk being a hypocrite. And being a hypocrite makes it very difficult to convincingly maintain the moral high ground.
“Not here.”
“Certainly not. I found a nice spot.”
Zoe didn't look away from Emma. “If that's what you want.” She walked past David into the building.
The small cemetery next to the church felt almost normal. In lieu of a public park, wooden benches under stunted, invasive oak trees gave some escape from the reality of the island. And the fresh air carried the smell downwind. David leaned back on a bench and looked up through the branches.
“They have a superstition here about dogs.”
“I thought they didn’t have any dogs.”
“Right. But the story goes that there are dogs on the island. They keep out of sight, stay quiet, ever since the government tried to wipe them out to protect the birds. As if the dogs were to blame for being hungry. The survivors are the ones who know to stay away from the village and keep quiet at night.”
“That’s just a story.”
“Probably. But the weird thing is that it feels more plausible here for some reason. I don’t know how to explain it, but part of me feels like there is a different set of rules at work here.”
“That’s not how rules work. Are you about to tell me you think the Devil stalks the island at night, stealing naughty children who don’t eat their vegetables?”
“All I’m saying is that it’s easy to take the things these people believe seriously. Assuming you can ever figure out what it is they believe in the first place.”
David handed her a bag of soggy chips and she took a handful without looking. She held them up to her mouth as if she had already forgotten about them. “I believe they’re ready to find an excuse. Everyone is. People find monsters more comforting than people who act like monsters.”
“Who are they, then? Have you sorted them into the proper bins yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Bollocks. You don’t know people’s nature any better than they do. Your turn to try the halibut.”
Emma stared at the stone markers. Some of them were worn smooth. Others had fallen over. “I don’t want to sit here anymore, can we go for a walk?”
They took the long way to the harbor, down an alley that zig-zagged between back gardens and sheds in various stages of ruin. Emma didn’t notice how long they had been walking in silence until David poked her with an elbow.
“Hello?”
“Sorry.”
“Still thinking about Evan?”
“No. Zoe.”
“A little off, that one.”
“More than a little.”
“But also strangely normal. You know she's the only person on this island who doesn't pretend there's a Governor General? Somehow that makes her almost stranger. And did you notice where she was from?”
“Barking and Dagenham?”
“Nobody says that. If she was from Dagenham, she would have said Dagenham. And if she was from Barking, she would have lied and said somewhere else.”
“You sound like you know her already. Why is it so easy for you to understand people, David?”
“It's not hard for you either. You're just no good at pretending. When someone's being a tit you can't smile politely and wait for them to go away. I've seen you try. It looked like you were trying to pass a stone without anyone noticing.”
“Thanks for that. But you make it sound like it's impatience. That’s not it.”
“What is it then?”
“I don't like them.”
“Who?”
“Any of them. I'm supposed to protect people, but when they talk to me all I can do is wait for them to shut up.”
“Emma, what did that woman say to you?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe something.”
“What kind of something?”
“Well...”
“Yes! There she goes.”
“Drugs.”
“She said drugs.”
“No, hear me out.” Emma narrowed her eyes and tried to work out all the details. David always accused her of showing the same lurid thrill that regular people felt when dissecting a violent crime. The numerous times he caught her in bed looking at crime scene photos stolen from DI Acharya’s desk would seem very damning evidence. But now Emma was too focused to care what it looked like.
“I neglected to search that glorified tugboat this morning. And she and Evan were completely unsupervised in the station. Except for Ned, who by all accounts treated his job like a suggestion.”
“It doesn't match what I've heard, though.” David leaned in as he walked. “Jessie was telling me that Zoe's one of you lot. The, shall we say, socially reserved type. Painfully shy and frightened of her own shadow is what Jessie said. Struggled to get two words out of her since she came to the island.”
“That's not incompatible with a criminal enterprise. It's actually a point in favor. And that's certainly not the girl I met this morning. Wouldn't shut up. Kind of annoying, actually. She said something very strange about Gregory being Ned's friend, and her being Evan's friend. Out of nowhere. It felt like she was trying to tell me something without coming right out and saying it.”
“She's winding you up.”
“No. This wasn't a joke. She smiled when she said it. You people don't smile when you're tricking Americans. It spoils the fun.”
“Then she's manipulating you. Trying to get you on the back foot for whatever reason.”
“I can guess the reason. God, why didn't I check that boat?”
“Ah, the wheels are turning again! Glad the gerbil is getting some exercise.”
“I'll keep an eye on her. I know something isn't right.” Emma trailed off and stared into an overgrown back garden. David, lost in his own calculations, scowled at his shoes.
“There's something about the way she was looking at you that I didn't like. That wasn't the look of someone trying to hide a secret from the police. She lo
oked almost disappointed when you left.”
“You're seeing things.”
“Yes, troubling things to be specific. This place would make anyone a little nervous, but this whole thing could be more dangerous than a couple of tossers selling meth to sheep farmers. Let me poke around. I can find out what's going on. If you’ll let me in on the secret.”
“What secret?”
“Don’t be cheeky with me, Em. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something.”
“I don’t hide. You’re projecting because you’ve been sneaking around the village trying to do my job.”
“Well, someone has to.”
“I’ll have you know-”
“Kidding, Love! Kidding. But not about the secrets. That’s written all over your face.”
“David…”
“No, no, let me guess. More sporting that way. Let’s see… you’ve gotten me a seal carcass for Christmas! No, that’s not it. I know. There’s a scary cave and it’s full of pirate gold.”
“Well obviously there’s a scary cave full of pirate gold. But I’ll be damned if I know where it is.”
“Then there’s one possibility left. You’ve got a lead and you’re not telling me what it is because you want to keep all the fun for yourself.”
“This isn’t fun, David. It’s a mystery. Possibly of a criminal sort.”
“Do you listen to yourself when you talk, Em?”
“The point is, it’s professional.”
“Not personal.”
“Not recreational. Of course it’s personal.”
“Glad you can admit that.”
“I’ve never denied it.”
“But it’s gotten more personal, hasn’t it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Most people do a job for a paycheck. Some people do a job because it makes a difference. You do this job because you need it. And it’s gotten worse.”
“Worse? That’s what you call being invested in my job?”
“Don’t play word games.”
“…said the pot to the kettle.”
“Touché. You know what? I think I know why you need this so badly.”
“Good for you.”
“Do you?”
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