Black Violet

by Alex Hyland

  Stories about the doll collection spread around the neighborhood where she lived. Plenty of local girls talked about the collection, but their parents had always warned them away from Lizzie. She was considered a damaged child, with one witness describing her as, ‘a little shadow at the curtain that we’d occasionally see as we walked past the house.’ However, the daughter of one of Lizzie’s neighbors, Kristen Strand, found the prospect of seeing the dolls too tempting.

  Unknown to her parents, Kristen decided to pay Lizzie an impromptu visit one afternoon. Lizzie’s mother, Helena, answered the door. Lizzie was asleep at the time, however, with her having so few visitors, her mother didn’t want to turn Kristen away. She showed the girl up to the top floor where the dolls were, then asked her to wait while she woke up Lizzie. But Kristen didn’t wait – she entered one of the rooms that housed the collection.

  When Lizzie entered the room, she found Kristen reading one of the doll’s journals. Lizzie grabbed it from her. Although Kristen apologized, Lizzie screamed for her to get out. Kristen did what she was told. However, as she left the room, she apparently made some comment about how everyone was right and that Lizzie was strange. In a rage, Lizzie pushed her. Kristen slipped down the stairs, and smacked her head against the floorboards at the bottom. She spent two weeks in hospital. Kristen’s parents pressed charges against Lizzie’s mother, insisting that Lizzie was mentally unbalanced and needed to be put into care. Lizzie’s mother refused to even consider this, and the case ended up going to some tribunal. The dolls’ diaries were submitted at the hearing. One entry read:

  ‘Sunday 14th. Elizabeth made me lunch today. Pasta shells in tomato sauce. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t tell her. She’s angry at me, and I deserve it. I promised to sew up the holes in the night where the morning gets in. Sew them up tight so the day won’t hurt her. But the sun was high today. I’ve let her down. I’m scared.’

  The tribunal ordered a psychiatric evaluation of Lizzie, but its findings were inconclusive. Lizzie’s mother ended up paying damages to Kristen’s parents, and Lizzie remained at home. But I doubt anyone ever visited her again.

  Although Kristen wasn’t seriously hurt, the story got more than its fair share of local press coverage because of the Brager name. The Bragers are old Norwegian money – a shipping dynasty. They’re a long line, and it seems that Lizzie wasn’t the only fucked-up member of the clan. Her skin condition might have made her childhood a misery, but by the sound of it, it was her father, Hugo, who screwed her head up. He was a physicist. In 1957 he gave up a promising career at Oslo University, and started writing books about infinity. Lizzie and Marcus’ yacht, The Warren Gate, is named after his final book, a pseudo-spiritual treatise on the nature of the self. In it he writes that death doesn’t exist. How the limitless combinations of subatomic particles just roll on forever – the sequence that signifies the self, randomly and repeatedly coalescing into form. It’s eternal life whether you want it or not – it’s just numbers – an indifferent universe devoid of morality or meaning. He writes that the greatest gift we have is the absence of a soul. As a result, the identical lives that the individual experiences are eternally fresh and vibrant. The only hell that could ever exist would be to have a memory of it all.

  He committed suicide when he was forty-three. Lizzie was six at the time. He left a note saying that he’d see her again, but I doubt it was much consolation to her.

  Her dad may have continued his eternal journey through the infinite, but her mom moved to Bermuda. Seventy-eight, she lives in a hotel in Mount Pleasant that Lizzie and Marcus own. She’s not nearly as reclusive as her kids, but nonetheless refuses to talk about them no matter how many people ask – and plenty do. Marcus is a big player in the arms industry now. He’s turned an already sizable family fortune into billions and, according to Tully, has been involved in all kinds of shit in the process. Illegal arms exports to Sudan. Hit squads in Niger. There was even talk that he and Lizzie were responsible for an explosion at a shopping mall in Cape Town. Nine people died, including some diplomat that they were dealing with at the time. With their expanding influence in conflict zones, there are plenty of people who want to know what they’re up to. Some journalist turned up in Bermuda a few years back, asking the mother questions about them. She poured boiling coffee over him.

  Although there are accounts of Marcus visiting the mother at the hotel, Lizzie’s never with him. By the sound of it, she never leaves the yacht. The only time she comes in is when the yacht needs maintenance, and then she remains veiled. The only other noteworthy rumor that’s circulating is that she and Marcus are romantically involved with each other, and have been for years – but that sounds more like gossip. That said, it wouldn’t surprise me if it were true.

  It’s hard to know exactly what to believe when it came to the Bragers. They sounded like a horror story that arms dealers tell each other on camping trips.

  It was getting dark. Geary turned off Route 93 and onto a small trail that led into Bitterroot Forest. Two thousand square miles of wilderness – the coordinates lying deep within it.

  We didn’t pass a solitary soul as we weaved into the hills. November, and the forest was still. Just towering pines thickening around us – the Jeep’s headlights throwing ghosts through the branches.

  With the coordinates not close to any kind of access route, we were going to have to hike once the forest closed in – and that moment didn’t seem too far off now. The trees began to interweave above us, turning what was left of the trail into a tunnel – the Jeep jumping around on the broken mud and rocks. Geary fought to keep the car under control as he pushed us forward – weaving past boulders and thumping through low-hanging branches. But soon there was nowhere left to drive. The wild heart of Bitterroot had closed in.

  Geary brought the Jeep to a stop in a dry riverbed – nothing but root infested inclines ahead of us.

  ‘Rise and shine,’ he said.

  He switched off the engine, then checked the GPS locator on his phone.

  ‘It’s about twelve miles northwest of here,’ he said.

  Through the treetops I could see a huge mountain range way ahead of us – maybe two thousand feet high. Gentle slopes, but it was covered in dense forest. It would take us hours to cross it.

  We got out of the car, the mountain cold waking me like a slap in the face. We pulled on heavy duty army jackets and gloves, then swung on our backpacks. We had a little food, some water – Tully had given us a satellite phone.

  Geary produced the three rifles from the rear seat floor. He checked one – slid the bolt, snapped the magazine – then handed it to Ella. He checked the second and swung it around his shoulder. The third, he just tossed to me.

  I stared wearily at him. ‘This one’s fine, is it?’ I said.

  ‘You’re baggage,’ he said. ‘Baggage don’t talk.’ He stared up at the ridge for a moment, then turned to Ella. ‘You good?’

  Ella nodded. As she tightened her rifle strap, Geary switched on a flashlight and started walking. I stared awkwardly at the rifle in my hand. I’d never held one before, and Ella could see it – she smiled. She took it from me, checked it and handed it back to me. I nodded gratefully, then followed on after her and Geary.

  We slowly made our way through the forest, the hills stretching out ahead of us. Shadows and silence. Just the crunch of thick ferns beneath our boots. A creek bubbling somewhere nearby.

  As Geary plowed on ahead, I took off my glove and pulled the bandage away from my palm. I checked the wound. It had sealed – a thin scab running down my lifeline. I grabbed a coin and spun it, checking the movement in my hand again. The coin zipped across my fingertips, flickering in the moonlight like it had a life of its own.

  Ella watched it dance. ‘You have a real talent,’ she said.

  I raised a grateful smile.

  ‘You shouldn’t be wasting it,’ she added.

  I grabbed the coin to a halt and sighed. ‘Still on this, huh? One of
the good guys.’

  ‘Why’s that such a bad thing for you?’

  I said nothing. I just put away the coin, then pulled the glove back on.

  ‘Are you self-taught?’ she asked.

  I nodded. But as an answer it wasn’t strictly true – nor fair.

  ‘I knew a guy for a while though,’ I said. ‘He definitely upped my game.’

  ‘Who was that?'

  ‘Patrick, his name was.’ I smiled fondly as I thought about him. ‘Great pickpocket.’

  ‘Better than you?’

  ‘Oh yeah. ET, people used to call him. Light-fingered. He asked for this starlet’s autograph once...before she even finished writing her name, he had her watch and jewelry. The guy was absurd.’

  ‘Is he still working?’

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘No, he died a few years back. Cancer. I mean he was old when I met him, but...the guy was obsessed. I spent those last few weeks with him, and all he did was get me to practice the moves, finger positions, the Hanson Grip. Until his dying breath, I swear. ’

  ‘Sounds like you were close.’

  I nodded. ‘One of my prized possessions is a calf-skin wallet that I lifted from him while he was on his deathbed.’ I laughed to myself. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.’

  She smiled easily – like she and I were old friends. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to bring up the subject of her scars right then, but she noticed me glancing at her body.

  ‘So what happened with you?’ I said.

  She eyed me carefully. As I waited for her to speak, I went still – a shuffling noise to our right. Geary swung back and pointed the flashlight at the trees. A few insects fluttered around in the beam. More shuffling. Footsteps. I stared nervously into the darkness, then slipped the rifle from my shoulder. Ella gazed at the shadows beyond the trees. We waited. No movement.

  ‘It’s an animal,’ said Geary.

  He was probably right, but I was in no mood to take any chances. I kept looking. Whatever was there couldn’t have been more than thirty or forty feet away. If they’d run off, I’d have heard. I kept my eyes on the shadows and searched for any movement.

  ‘Leave it,’ said Geary. ‘Let’s go.’

  I gazed at the trees, my finger hovering over the trigger.

  Ella nodded at me. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.

  ‘We’re wasting time,’ said Geary. ‘You get freaked by every noise, this is going to take days. Let’s go.’

  Geary headed back up the hill, his flashlight disappearing into fragments within the trees. As Ella followed him, I heard the shuffling sound behind me again. I turned and stared into the darkness – at the few pools of moonlight that reached the forest floor. A quiet snap came from a black void between the pools. There were eyes in there looking back at me, I could feel it. An iciness in my veins like the darkness itself was watching me.

  I gazed into the void, then slowly stepped away – my finger glued to the trigger as I headed on through the trees.

  It was two a.m. by the time we reached the crest of the ridge. It might have risen a couple of thousand feet above the forest, but it must have been a good four or five thousand above sea level. I could feel the air thinning. The temperature dropping.

  The trees gave way to bare rock as we reached the top. We stopped and surveyed the valleys below us. Thick blankets of forests and grassy plains. Silver rivers that snaked into the distance. It looked like the frontier land – beautiful through one eye, threatening through the other.

  Geary checked the GPS locator. ‘Another two miles,’ he said, pointing west. ‘We can probably see it from here.’

  I scanned the western valleys. They were darker, more densely wooded. Whatever was down there was well hidden.

  ‘We’ll rest for ten minutes,’ he said.

  As Ella studied the valley with a set of binoculars, I sat down on the bare rock. Geary grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack. He took a mouthful, then smiled at me.

  ‘So tell me, Mr. Pickpocket,’ he said. ‘How many cars do you think you’ve stolen?’

  Ella sighed.

  ‘I’m just curious,’ he said to her. ‘How many?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied.

  ‘More than a hundred?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘A thousand?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You must have made some money. You keep it all for yourself?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I’m just trying to figure what you stand for. You and Jon were like night and day. I just want to know why.’

  I stayed quiet.

  ‘Leave it,’ said Ella.

  ‘We’re just talking,’ he said. He turned back to me. ‘You know what I think?’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I replied.

  ‘You couldn’t compete with him, could you.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re a therapist now? I’m not going to get a bill for this, am I?’

  ‘I mean, he was the talented one, wasn’t he? He could write, play sports, good at school…what was it, UCLA he graduated from? And you couldn’t do any of that, could you? Black sheep.’

  ‘Come on, Geary,’ said Ella.

  I eyed him carefully. ‘Jon and I weren’t as different as you think,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah? He weren’t no snake in the grass, I’ll tell you that.’

  ‘That’s what I am, is it?’

  ‘You’re bad news, boy.’

  I laughed – I wasn’t going to listen to this shit any more.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ said Ella.

  ‘What, that’s my hour done?’ I said. ‘We didn’t even get to my fear of giraffes.’

  Geary threw Ella a long agitated look.

  ‘Why are you defending him?’ he asked her. ‘You like him now?’

  She said nothing.

  He nodded thoughtfully to himself, then turned back to me. ‘You want to hear something really funny?’ he said. ‘How do you think Jon found out you’re a thief?’

  ‘Geary!’ said Ella.

  ‘How do you think?’ he said.

  She eyed him in disbelief.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘Jon said that some friend of his saw you steal a car.’

  I glanced uneasily at Ella.

  Geary smiled. ‘It’s funny, ‘cos that ain’t even close to what happened.’

  Ella closed her eyes. ‘You’re such a fucking ass, Geary.’

  ‘Truth is the truth, sweetie,’ he said. ‘Hell, you taught me that.’

  ‘What’s he talking about?’ I asked Ella.

  She didn’t look at me – and my blood started to race.

  ‘Are you going to tell him or am I?’ Geary asked her.

  Ella sighed, then threw me an uneasy look.

  ‘I told Jon about you,’ she said. ‘He was worried. He thought someone was following you. He didn’t know if he was just being paranoid or not. I looked into it.’

  I gazed at her for a moment.

  ‘You looked into it,’ I said. ‘You mean, you looked into me.’

  She stayed silent.

  ‘Did he ask you to?’ I said.

  She took a deep breath, then shook her head.

  ‘And you told him what you found?’ I said.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘My relationship with Jon was my business! You didn’t think for one moment it might be better if he didn’t know?’

  ‘Better for who? For you?’

  ‘Things were fine between me and Jon!’

  ‘You’re a thief, Michael. He needed to know.’

  ‘We never spoke again!’

  ‘That was your doing!’

  Geary laughed. ‘Hell, where’s a bag of popcorn when you need one?’

  ‘Shut up!’ said Ella.

  She may have been right, but I didn’t give a shit – I felt betrayed by her. That might have made me a hypocrite, but again, I didn’t give a shit.

  A muffled ringing came from inside
Ella’s backpack – the satellite phone. She delved around inside the pack and pulled it out. It stopped ringing before she could answer it. She stared nervously at Geary.

  ‘No caller ID,’ she said.

  ‘It’s Tully’s phone,’ said Geary. ‘He’s the only one who has the number. Call him back, make sure it was him.’

  She dialed his number. No answer.

  ‘Try the land line,’ he said.

  Ella hung up and dialed DND Storage. As she did, I scanned the tree line just below us. Those fuckers had called me in the nightclub – a ringing phone sounded like an alarm bell to me now.

  ‘Answering machine,’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t like this.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Geary.

  ‘We need to move,’ I said. ‘We need to find whatever’s down there and get the fuck out of here.’

  I got up and took the lead. I started moving as fast as I could down the broken ground on the western side of the ridge. Ella tried Tully again. No answer.

  ‘Hang up,’ I said. ‘I mean it. Now!’

  She ended the call.

  ‘Try Cooper,’ said Geary.

  ‘Switch off the fucking phone!’ I said and grabbed it from her.

  ‘They don’t know about Tully,’ she replied.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘They might have been watching you for weeks.’

  I picked up the pace – kept the flashlight off, it would signal our position like a neon sign. We headed down toward the valley system, adrenaline pumping through me. I saw shapes starting to move in the corners of my eyes. I slowed and looked around. Everything was still.