No Stone Tells Where I Lie

by Madeline Kalvis

  She moved through the tall grass and mud without watching her step, until she was close enough for the crowd to notice her. Lisa stood by the fire, staring into it like a doctor looking at an x-ray. Steve sat on a wooden box full of brown bottles a short distance away. A wet slurp drew her attention to a man next to her sucking something out of a shell. The smell like a urinal full of harbor foam told her it was raw sea urchin.

  She spotted Zoe off to the left, glancing around over the top of a beer glass. Emma circled the fire to the right, hoping to put it between them. A muffled sound over her shoulder made her turn.

  “What?”

  “I said, Em!” David’s face was dark and unfamiliar. “Jesus, did something happen to your ears?”

  “Sorry…” She started to give an excuse, then gave up.

  “Where have you been all afternoon?”

  The station. “The station.”

  “I’m sure the fish and the seals will sleep soundly in their beds. Now for God’s sake have a drink.” A hard object materialized in her hand. It was a glass, with a small amount of some black liquid at the bottom. She tried to hold it up to the light.

  “It’s just beer.”

  Emma cut a smile into her face, hoping he would go away. It worked. She looked around at the faces. In the flickering light they were now bright and warm, now hidden and carved by deep shadows. In the anonymous dark it took her a long time to recognize Darren throwing what looked like dried brush and bits of abused furniture into the bonfire.

  The night wind carried the smell of sheep shit and ozone down the slope. Closer to the fire the smell became smoky, with resinous burning grass mixed in. Whenever someone stumbled around her, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady themselves, the only smell was alcohol. Against the wind barreling down the mountain, no sound from the village could reach them. There was only the crunch and crackle of the fire and the wheezing laughter of drunks.

  David was with Lisa now, illustrating some story with his hands. Over his shoulder two women in faded denim jackets threw empty bottles into the fire.

  A man who smelled like sheep sweat and soap asked her something about what it was like to be a police officer on a small island. Or something along those lines.

  The man reminded her of the people she met at parties in London. It took all of Emma’s willpower to introduce herself to David’s old friends, or colleagues of colleagues. Most people say they hate small talk, but that was never the problem for her. Small talk was a Godsend compared to what came later. Nobody judged you for having no emotional investment in whether or not it would rain tomorrow.

  The problem came when they started digging. They always expected to find a nugget of something salacious and personal, and it was her job to provide it to them. Guarded answers elicited blank looks of disappointment from those like David who could detect an ingenuine response from a mile away. From the rest she got bored, polite smiles.

  Emma knew the truth. Trying to open up to people carried with it the danger that it might work. And after she exposed herself, then what? The untroubled minds of the world insist that nice people will always accept you, the real, unvarnished you, just the way you are. Given a comprehensive rundown of her life, Emma knew that people could not do this. More importantly, they should not. Anyone who said otherwise was a fool.

  The sound of conversation turned into a buzz. Not the sound of a noisy cafeteria, or a foreign language, but white noise. The words blended into each other, then began to fade until it was a ringing in her ears. She knew that if she tried, she could hear the words again. But the effort was like pulling a large sofa up a flight of stairs. Twice some people around her shouted “Hoyo!” in unison. She turned and listened the second time but could find no obvious reasoning behind it.

  Behind the man talking at her, she could see Zoe looking at her from the other side of the crowd. Zoe made no expression but did not look away.

  Emma turned and walked the other way, putting the fire between them again. She didn’t check if the man had still been talking to her when she left him. David was watching her. His eyes followed where she had been looking and stopped on Zoe. He may have looked concerned. It was hard to tell when his whole face was cast in high relief. She might have seen the line of his eyebrows lift, but it could have been a trick of the light.

  Zoe finished her drink and floated around the edge of the crowd. She walked down the hill toward the village without looking back.

  Emma discovered she had been holding her breath. With Zoe gone her mind ran through her options. Run away. Drop everything and run. No, that wouldn’t work. She knew getting away from Zoe was the easy part. Or whoever that woman was. But she couldn’t escape the trap she had made for herself. Her jailer would never let her go.

  “I know that look.”

  Emma turned. Steve was standing behind to her, away from the fire, which made his face warm and orange.

  “What?”

  “I said, I know that look. I saw it on Ned’s face more than once.”

  “What kind of face is it?”

  “Scared. Like you’re waiting by the phone for bad news.”

  “You saw all that on Ned’s face, did you?” Emma was glad her own eyes would be too dark to read.

  “It was worse. He was poorly for a long time. Then… You know the rest.”

  “Why didn’t you do something if you knew he was in such a bad place?”

  Steve’s voice was quiet, but perfectly steady. “I think I’m the one who put him there.”

  “I don’t believe it was really you.” Emma forced herself not to look in the direction Zoe had gone. “I think somebody else did it.”

  “I like that. That’s a nice thing to believe.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Steve shrugged. “Maybe that too, if you care about that sort of thing. Point is, we know which way they went, Ned and Evan. What about you? Where are you going?”

  Emma heard the question echo in a rhythm, like a metronome getting louder and louder.

  “I don’t know.” She stumbled through the last word and ended on a whisper.

  “I hope it’s somewhere good.”

  “Why? You shouldn’t.” These words came out clear. She forgot about the other people at the bonfire, forgot to care if anyone heard.

  Steve looked past her into the fire.

  “You remember I told you my mum died? I think that’s when things started to turn to shit around here. Once she was gone, there weren’t any foreigners around, except His Excellency. And me, sort of. People talked about the outside world less and less after that. I think people lost track of what was real.

  “I would have done anything to keep her a little longer. I always think of that when I remember Ned. Do you have a best friend, Emma?”

  “Not really. No. No, not at all.”

  “David, then. If someone said to him the things that you’re saying to yourself in your head, what would you do?

  “I would kick their teeth down their throat.” She answered with no indication of hyperbole.

  “That’s about what I expected.”

  The idea pinged back and forth through Emma’s mind, like a tiny question mark coaxing her through a chain of thought. She thought about all the fight in her, and how little of it had been on her behalf.

  She had botched more than a few things in her time, but she had yet to give up even once. It was time to fight for herself now, figure things out later.

  Don’t listen to doubt, just act. Keep moving, but this time not away from some unspecified danger. Toward something else. Figure it out later. It wasn’t much of a plan, but she had gotten by with less.

  She raised a finger, lowered it, then raised it again. “I have to do something.”

  “OK. What?”

  That was an excellent question. Emma knew there was a narrow window of opportunity before Zoe got in her head again. She was the threat, the only one who could really get to her.

  “Zoe.”

&
nbsp; “What about her?”

  “Does she seem different to you lately? Her personality, I mean?”

  “Of course. She never came out like this before. Barely left the station, and never said a word to anyone.”

  “That’s what I thought. Listen, Steve. I may have to deputize you.”

  “What’s that now?”

  “You ever watch American TV? It’s not important. I need to know everything you can tell me about Zoe. Habits. Social connections. Anything we can use to find evidence of illegal activity.”

  “Is Zoe mixed up in something?”

  Emma considered how candid she dared to be, then decided on total honesty. “I don’t know. I just need to detain her. I need to know where she will be at all times. Keep her at arm’s length.”

  To her surprise, Steve did not look shocked.

  “Jessie could help you. She’s the only person who might know something about her. And Darren. If there’s anything illegal happening on this island, Darren will know about it.”

  “Got it.” Emma searched the faces around the fire with fresh eyes. For the first time she saw a platoon of potential allies. She could fight her. Fight it. Whatever. She needed room to breathe, enough time on her own to process things. The best chance Emma had was if Zoe couldn’t ambush her whenever she wanted with a scalpel to the brain. Get things sorted with David, the Met, and herself. Then deal with her.

  Emma circled the fire looking for Darren. The fire was dying, and a few people were already trickling away, back to the village. The light faded. The smell of the paddock took over. Emma fought the instinct to whisper her conspiracy.

  “Darren, I have a job for you.”

  “Is Steve not letting you use the shed anymore? Because I need my shed. It’s where the wife keeps her newspapers.”

  “No, I need you to come with me to the station tomorrow morning. We’re going to do another sweep, and you are going to help me find out what it is I’m looking for.”

  “Right.”

  “It will all make sense. Trust me, I’m a police officer. Not a word to anyone until I come to you first thing in the morning.”

  She turned without addressing the confused look on his face and introduced herself to a few revelers who looked useful in a fight. Before the fire was down to embers, she was on her way down the hill. Jessie would be at The Rock. David had already gone back. Time to rally the troops.

  Emma didn’t think to look out for Zoe on the walk into the village. In the total darkness between the little stone houses she felt clever and invisible. The chill of the wet, salty air followed her all the way down the street, into The Rock, and up the stairs.

  The room was as dark as outside, but she could see the bed was occupied. The thin slice of light from between the curtains traced a lumpy shape across the covers. Emma turned on a lamp, careful not to subject David to the blazing and humming of the overhead light. He lay on the bed, fast sleep. Emma moved to the chair as quietly as the buckling floorboards would allow.

  “Always the well-adjusted one, aren't we? I don’t even blame you. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we go hunting.”

  She heard the background noise of the faucet and realized it wasn’t coming through the wall. She tip-toed to the bathroom to turn it off and noticed one of David’s pill bottles was missing, a sedative they used in emergencies. One more thing. One more thing to remember for him. The faucet reduced to a trickle, then stopped, but the patter of water from the other room persisted. She returned to the bedroom and leaned against the wall as much as she dared until it wobbled. She stared at her husband while he slept.

  “Not a care in the world. Not a one. Pretty soon…” she lowered her voice and remembered the feeling of his fish-oil covered fingers on the back of her hand. “Not a one.” It felt good to indulge in self pity.

  “I know what she wants, and I’m not going to give it to her. You’re going to help me, while you still can. What do you think about that, lazy bones?”

  The yellow lamp light turned the wrinkles in the blanket into sharp ridges and deep valleys, following the lines of David’s body. He lied there, not moving. Not moving at all.

  Not even breathing.

  Emma moved in close. Her fingers crept forward, hesitated, then pressed under his jaw. No pulse. She leaned one ear over his nose. Nothing. From this angle, she saw the empty bottle that had rolled under the desk.

  Obviously, this was not what it seemed. She had missed something. With shaking hands, she checked David's pulse again. She shook him, a little at first, then violently.

  She whispered his name, afraid to hear her own voice in the quiet room. Then she screamed.

  “David!”

  She needed to think. Somehow this wasn't happening. She needed to figure out how. She paced the length of the room, returned to the bed, and listened to his breathing again. Then she did it again. And again. She lost track of her body’s movement as her mind raced to make sense of what she was seeing.

  She struggled to take a full breath. Pulse. Check again. The booming of her own blood made it impossible to tell. Maybe it was weak. But he wasn't breathing. A doctor. In Perth.

  A doctor might tell her that she wasn't imagining things.

  “Fucking idiot!” Emma tried to scream at her husband but only a hoarse scraping sound came out. “She was after me! Me! Why the fuck would you do this?”

  David said nothing.

  “You think you're protecting me? Wake up! Get the fuck up!”

  Emma didn't realize she was pacing until she stopped and looked around. There was a tapping sound coming from somewhere. Zoe could be here. No, not Zoe. The real Zoe would show up in a few days with a pained expression, jagged fingernails, and no memory. She looked down and saw her foot was tapping against the wooden floor.

  Steve’s mother was a nurse. He might have a defibrillator. Adrenaline. Anything. Maybe she taught him about overdoses and what to do. She threw herself on the ground and snatched up the empty pill bottle. It took effort to make her fingers close around the bottle.

  Someone made a noise behind her, but when she looked over her shoulder there was no one. She glanced into the bathroom, and stepped through the door into the dark, moldering hallway. There was no one. Still she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there with her. There was someone.

  What was she doing? She looked down at David’s empty pill bottle in her hand. No sense in carrying something like that around. She put it on the nightstand.

  Emma stood in the hallway and noticed that her hands were shaking. Her heart pounded and her face felt wet. How embarrassing. Whoever she had been talking to, they shouldn’t see her in a state like this. She tried to wipe her eyes and was surprised when her hand didn’t move. She looked at it and tried again, clearing the tears from her eyes and cheeks. When she could see clearly again, she turned around.

  “Sorry, I'm not feeling...” There was no one, just the door to the room she shared with her husband. Funny. Someone had been there a moment ago. She peeked through the door at David, lying perfectly still on the bed.

  “God, how does he manage to sleep through anything?” There had been something she needed to talk to him about, something about that girl who showed up that morning. But it wasn’t important, whatever it was. Right now, there was another job to do.

  She closed the door as gingerly as she could so as not to wake David, wiped her face one more time with the end of her sleeve, and walked down the stairs to the pub.

  The Rock never changed. Jessie fussed over a dust pan full of broken glass. Darren was settled in with his back to the fire slurping the head off of a fresh pour. The snooker table still had the one sagging corner. Red slouched over his usual table. Good old Red.

  The large man nursing his beer was in pain. It couldn’t go on any longer. He needed her help.

  “Hello, Red.” She sat down across from him and assumed his hunched posture. He smiled. She smiled back.

  “Constable. Are you alright?” His eyes narro
wed. “Your eyes look a bit red.”

  Emma matched his expression. “The salt air doesn't agree with them. Just wanted to check in, see how you all are holding up with everything that's gone on lately.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  “Can't have anyone fall to pieces on my watch. Very unprofessional. Reflects bad on our whole operation. How is work?”

  “Fine, fine.”

  “And Sarah?”

  Red shuffled his feet under the table. “Same.”

  “No better, then?”

  “How do you mean?”

  Emma ignored him and looked at his glass. “Have you been here all day?”

  “That’s not a crime, is it?” Emma could hear his foot tapping under the table.

  “I get it. It’s a good place to forget. You can forget quite a lot here, I guarantee it. To answer your question, nothing is a crime when there are no police around to see it.” She watched him squint in confusion. “What I mean is, I didn’t see you at the bonfire.”

  “I wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Sure, I get that. Crowds. Sheep shit. What I’m getting at is, when I was up there, nobody asked where you were. I guess they didn’t ask because they already knew. Tell me, though, did anyone ask you if you wanted to go to the bonfire?”

  Red’s body turned a little to the side. “What are you haranguing me for? Do you want something from me or not?”

  Emma put an elbow on the table, twisting her torso sideways. “I’m trying to get to know South Alderney. I need to know the people around here if I’m going to protect them. It’s not been a good few days for you all, has it?”

  Red lowered his voice. “What the hell are you going on about?”

  Emma smiled and leaned in closer.

  “Red, can I ask you a personal question?”

  He sighed. “I suppose so?”

  “Why do you pretend that Sarah is still alive?”

  “What?”