Fire in the Sea

by Myke Bartlett

  ‘I know what happened.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Last night you asked me if we could ever die. Well we can. If you know how, you can pull out our souls. Or, you can do this.’ He tapped at the front page. ‘He was shot three times. Once in the gut, once in the heart and once in the head.’ Jake’s hands identified each wound. ‘Anything metal will do the trick. A knife, a sword, a bullet.’

  Sadie took the paper off him, skimming the details. A newsagent. ‘That’s the man you went to see about Vincent.’

  ‘Patrick.’ Jake threw the paper aside and thumped his fist on the kitchen table. ‘The address book!’

  ‘You think that’s why Frobisher was killed?’

  ‘Maybe it’s not just the relic they’re after. Maybe they’re hunting us down, one by one.’

  ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  There was a knock at the door. Those three raps chilled Sadie more than any talk of murder.

  Jake started for the door, but Sadie held him back.

  ‘That’s either a murderer or my grandparents. Do you really want to answer it?’

  ‘I’m not scared, Sadie.’

  ‘You haven’t met my grandpa.’ There was another knock, more insistent this time. A murderer wouldn’t knock, she decided. ‘I’ll go.’

  It wasn’t a murderer waiting on the tatty doormat and neither was it Stan. As the door opened, Sergeant Bradbury glared in. He had an announcement ready but, seeing Sadie, forgot all about it.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’

  ‘This is my house.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘It is.’ Sadie was more nervous than she sounded. She remembered lying to him in Frobisher’s office. I’m watching you, he’d said.

  ‘Sarge.’ Behind him, Sadie saw Constable Williams shake her head, sinking her hands further into her pockets. There was another woman there too. She was in her mid-forties, probably, and craning her head anxiously to peer around the policeman, at Sadie—no, beyond Sadie, to the hallway. Her eyes were glassy with tears.

  ‘Yeah, anyway.’ Bradbury cleared his throat. ‘This isn’t about you, Miss Miller. We’re looking for Sam Mitchell.’

  ‘Who’s Sam Mitchell?’

  ‘Kid’s been missing for a week. Picture’s been in the papers. Neighbours think they’ve seen him. You going to let us in?’

  ‘There’s no Sam Mitchell here. I’ve never heard of him.’

  But, at that moment, the woman broke whatever invisible tether had held her back and hurried up the wonky stairs. ‘Sam! Sam!’ She shoved both Sadie and Bradbury aside, running along the hall to where she had glimpsed Jake waiting in the shadows.

  ‘Oh Sam!’ she cried, grabbing Jake in a fierce hug. Her tears soaked his T-shirt.

  Sadie didn’t understand any of this, but she could see Jake did. There wasn’t any confusion in the brief, guilty look he gave her. His head lowered and his shoulders slumped.

  Bradbury stepped back from the doorstep, clearing a path for Sadie from hallway to police car. ‘I think you’d both better come down to the station.’

  part two

  the old ones

  13

  THE KILLER INSIDE

  The woman had barely sat still in the hour since they had arrived at the station. At first, Sadie thought she had seemed relieved, if impatient. She had clutched Jake to her shoulder and promised him she would take him home. Then, when Jake hadn’t recognised her, or hadn’t said the right things, she had become angry, telling him to stop fooling around. When he still hadn’t said the right things, she started looking scared.

  She blamed Sadie, that much was certain. Sadie had done something to her son—lured him from his happy home. Now, waiting to be interviewed, it was all Sadie could do not to look guilty, shifting in her plastic seat.

  Constable Williams assured Sadie she wasn’t under arrest. ‘Don’t worry about the Sarge, it’s all bark, no bite with him. Just a quick chat and you’ll be off home.’

  That was three hours ago. In the meantime, Sadie’s grandparents had arrived. Stan paced the waiting room, making demands at the front desk, while Ida waved at her, a little forlornly. That simple gesture put heat in Sadie’s cheeks and she needed to look away. She had lied to the two people she most cared about, and they knew it. But her grandmother still waved.

  Finally, Constable Williams led her through to a small white room, where Bradbury waited with a manilla folder and a tape recorder. They were joined by her grandparents. Ida lightly touched her shoulder and Stan refused to sit down until Bradbury threatened to eject him if he didn’t.

  The policeman asked her where she had met Sam Mitchell and what he had told her. Had he been involved in Frobisher’s murder? Was that why he was in hiding? She answered as truthfully as she could, leaving out the more outlandish details. With every answer, she felt Stan’s folded arms tighten until his fingers dug bloodless into his shirtsleeves. With every answer, she felt more ashamed.

  Finally, Bradbury lifted his biro and read back over his page of notes. ‘So, in summary, you met Sam Mitchell when he was breaking into a house left to you by one Jacob Freeman. Mr Mitchell then claimed to be Mr Freeman and was present when you discovered Horace Frobisher’s body. Mr Mitchell fled the scene before myself and Constable Williams arrived, although you insist he couldn’t have committed the murder as he was with you at all times. Is that correct?’

  Sadie shifted in her seat. ‘Well, not at all times, now you put it like that. I sort of, stormed off and left them there. But just for a few minutes.’

  ‘So Mr Mitchell was alone with the lawyer, shortly before you found him dead.’

  ‘Yes, but he wouldn’t have killed him. They were friends. Frobisher had been Jake’s—Mr Freeman’s—lawyer for years.’

  ‘Mr Freeman’s. But not Mr Mitchell’s?’

  Sadie could feel a familiar red blush spread out across her collarbone and rise up into her cheeks. The policeman was over-complicating things. But Jake had been alone with Frobisher, just before the lawyer was killed. And Jake had been to see the newsagent. Could Jake be the killer? No, she wouldn’t believe that. She needed to talk to him; she needed him to explain all of this away.

  ‘I told you. Frobisher recognised him. He called him Mr Freeman. Look, don’t think I don’t know how it sounds, okay? But maybe that woman out there’s got it wrong, maybe Jake isn’t her missing son. Maybe he just looks a bit similar?’

  Bradbury nodded, as if accepting the possibility, and opened the folder in front of him. From it, he produced three grainy black-and-white photographs, each of which showed three or four dark figures in a hospital hallway. Sadie’s face was clearly visible in one.

  ‘Don’t suppose that face looks a bit similar to anyone you know?’

  Caught off guard, Sadie could only nod.

  ‘You want to tell me what the bloody hell went on there? From what we can make out, some kind of wild animal went crazy in the wards, killing two nurses and one doctor. S’pose it was just coincidence you and Mr Mitchell were there too?’

  Sadie nodded again.

  ‘And I s’pose young Mr Mitchell had nothing to do with it? It wasn’t some stupid prank that went wrong?’

  Stan took the prints from the policeman and studied each in turn, his face impassive. He handed them to Ida, who murmured, ‘She never said anything about this.’

  ‘It wasn’t a prank,’ Sadie insisted, trying not to look at either of her grandparents. ‘Jake wouldn’t have anything to do with stupid pranks. If you really want to know, he stopped that thing killing a whole lot more people.’

  Bradbury tutted. ‘You keep calling him Jake.’

  ‘That’s his name. I told you, that woman out there has made a mistake.’

  With barely concealed pleasure,
Bradbury returned to the folder, taking out two sets of near-identical inky fingerprints. ‘I’m afraid Mr Mitchell is known to us from past misadventure, sweetheart. Shoplifting, vandalism. The usual dumb stuff. So, yeah, he’s exactly the sort of guy who’d have a lot to do with stupid pranks.’

  Sadie wanted to object, but found herself silent. The fingerprints were a precise match and, there beside them, was a colour snap of a younger, miserable-looking Jake in a flannel shirt, with his wrists in cuffs.

  ‘His mother thinks he’s lost it. Maybe he actually believes he is the late Mr Freeman. Certainly threw himself into the part, with the voice and the accent and everything. But that doesn’t really excuse you, does it, sweetheart?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  There was a smirk behind that red moustache. ‘Well, maybe the kid is crazy. But why would you believe the bullshit story he fed you? Most people would have spotted a mile off he had a screw loose. Not you though, huh?’

  Sadie could hear her teeth click in a hollow mouth.

  The strangest thing was, her grandfather wasn’t angry. Leaving the interview room, he put his arm around Sadie’s shoulders and pulled her into him, guiding her towards the door. There was strength in that grasp, and more comfort than she might have expected.

  ‘Excuse me, it’s Sadie, isn’t it?’

  Sadie had entered the station foyer with her head down, looking at her boots as they scuffed the carpet tiles. She had hoped the woman—Mrs Mitchell—would stay sitting on the hard plastic chairs. At worst, she had imagined the woman might hurl abuse as Stan and Ida bundled her out to their waiting car. No, this was even worse.

  ‘I’m Dianne Mitchell,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to say, I don’t blame you at all.’

  Sadie nodded, but she was no longer sure what she thought. Her skin felt raw, her tongue was loose and her muscles twanged like rubber bands.

  ‘The girl’s tired,’ Stan said. ‘It’s late, and she needs to go home.’

  ‘It’s okay Grandpa,’ Sadie said, releasing herself from his hug.

  Ida patted her elbow. ‘We’ll be in the car.’

  Dianne still held out her hand, so Sadie took it, a little weakly. ‘Hi.’

  ‘I think you’ve done an amazing job, dealing with all this. We thought we’d lost him, forever.’ She put a hand on Sadie’s shoulder. ‘I just want you to know, we’ll look after him now. He’ll get the help he needs and, soon, he’ll get better.’

  Sadie trembled. She nodded and tried half a smile, as if she was pleased for this woman.

  The truth was, the more she heard people say Jake was crazy, the less she believed it. She had seen things. Things that couldn’t be explained away. Blood and viscera glistening on the Minotaur’s jaw. The Drowners erupting from the harbour waters. A perfect, eternal rose.

  No, believing Jake wasn’t the problem. What troubled Sadie was that she also believed Dianne. The boy she knew as Jake was also Sam Mitchell, or had been, until recently. Behind Dianne, across the white brick wall, were a dozen posters of missing children, teenagers, parents and grandparents.

  Sadie stared at the faces staring back at her from the noticeboard. She almost marvelled no one else had seen the full horror of what had happened. She was thinking back a week to that hot morning in the lawyer’s stuffy office. Thinking about the Dalai Lama.

  How can you be here, she had asked, that age, this week? And Jake had fobbed her off with some half-hearted mumbo jumbo. A gift from the Gods.

  Now, the answer was clear to her. This wasn’t re- incarnation. Jake hadn’t been given a new body. He had stolen one. He had crawled into a young boy’s head and booted him out. Sam Mitchell, the real Sam Mitchell, was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

  Dianne took a sharp breath and stepped back. For a moment, Sadie worried the woman had read her mind.

  No. It was Jake being led through to the interview room. Seeing Sadie in the foyer, he moved towards her, then stopped. He saw the pale horror about her cheeks and he flinched. He knew she knew. For a second he looked guilty and then nodded, as if offering the smallest of confessions. Yes, it must be true. He had killed Sam Mitchell and taken his body. Then his head went down and he let the policeman lead him away.

  Sadie never wanted to see him again.

  14

  NOT THE GIRL YOU THINK YOU ARE

  It was two days before Sadie agreed to see Tom. He went in shuffling his sneakers across the carpet like he was sure the floor was booby-trapped. Any minute, Sadie would hit the switch and consign him to the flames.

  She was reading, with Nick Cave playing in the background. Tom sat on the edge of the sofa, trying and failing to make himself comfortable. His torso was still tightly bandaged and the stitches in his side made him lean so that he looked like he might topple sideways at any moment. He waited for Sadie to say something, but it was clear she wasn’t in the mood.

  ‘They’re saying it probably fell off the back of a cattle truck,’ he said.

  Sadie didn’t look up and didn’t ask what he was talking about. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. My dad’s all over it. The way he sees it, there’s always someone to sue.’

  ‘Right.’

  Another silence arrived. Tom was left holding the conversation.

  ‘Probably gonna have to give up athletics, for a couple of months anyway…Dad reckons I could’ve got a scholarship to some university over east or something. You know, a sports scholarship.’

  Sadie’s book dipped, but only for a moment. ‘You don’t want a sports scholarship.’

  ‘I know. It’s all about the suing. He wants to say I missed out.’

  Tom licked his lips, pressing on.

  ‘The doctor says all that other stuff was endorphins. You know, the stuff about—’ he trailed off, unable to think of a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. ‘Pain can make you see weird shit, he reckons.’

  Sadie sighed, throwing the book aside. She got up and changed the CD.

  ‘Kim was asking about you.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Sadie was thumbing through the booklet, skim-reading lyrics she already knew by heart. ‘What was she asking? “Who was that weird chick we used to hang out with?”’

  Tom laughed, but just once. ‘He was a bit weird, wasn’t he? Jake, I mean, or whatever his name really is.’

  ‘He wasn’t weird,’ Sadie spat, with such force that it surprised them both. ‘What is wrong with everyone? This isn’t just some funny story about some crazy guy. We’re not just going to laugh it off.’

  Now, Tom was silent, but felt no less uncomfortable.

  ‘I mean, listen to yourself, Tom. All that crap about endorphins. You can’t really think it’s that simple. You thought you’d seen the devil, remember? But it wasn’t the devil, it was the Minotaur. An ancient, impossible monster. We saw it kill two people. It almost killed you. I mean, seriously, that’s not a funny story, is it? People died.’

  Sadie swung her legs around and over the foot of her bed, to face Tom. Her eyes were wide and red. ‘Jake isn’t strange; he isn’t wacky. He’s a killer, Tom. I’ve seen him, you’ve seen him. Maybe that cop’s right, maybe he did kill the lawyer, maybe he’s still killing people.’

  ‘But I heard, I mean, he’s not even really called Jake, is he? That was all made up. He’s just some kid called Sam.’

  ‘Sam’s gone, Tom. That’s what Jake and his people do. That’s how he came back from the dead. They creep into your head and take you over. I saw it in the police station—all those posters, all those people who go missing.’ She pointed at the flyscreen. ‘There could be hundreds of them out there, thousands maybe. It’s how they live forever—they steal other people’s lives.’

  Tom shifted on the sofa. He had never seen her so worked up. It worried him. ‘Sades, you can’t say stuff like that.’

&n
bsp; ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you sound as crazy as him. Like you believed all the stuff he told you.’

  ‘I don’t have to believe him. I saw it. You saw it.’

  ‘Yeah, well. I don’t know what I saw. But I know what I’m saying. I saw nothing. If you don’t want people thinking you’ve lost it, you should say the same.’

  ‘You think I give a shit what anyone else thinks? This is serious, Tom. I’m not going to—’

  ‘Shut up.’ Tom was on his feet before he realised, standing over Sadie. She shrank back from him. ‘I’m just saying, you know, I’m your friend. And I want to stay your friend. Maybe some weird stuff did happen, but maybe we should work that out before we go telling anyone. Serious now Sades, do you want to try telling Kim any of this?’

  Sadie thought a moment before she said anything. ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘I don’t want you making it easy for them to have a go at you. You’re the smart one Sades. You’re the sane one. That’s the way it’s gotta be.’

  Sadie’s chin quivered. ‘I trusted him,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why, but I wanted to trust him.’

  Tom was already moving back and away from her. He was worried he had upset her. ‘Well, yeah. Maybe that was a bit stupid, hey?’

  Sadie put her face in her hands. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘Are you grounded?’ he asked, when enough nothing had been said.

  ‘No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. I don’t care. Why?’

  ‘Just, maybe you should get out of the house for a bit.’

  ‘I think maybe I should never see anybody, ever again.’

  ‘The thing is, Kim’s asked you to come sailing tonight. Her dad’s doing that twilight sail thing near the uni. Kim says it’s really boring, so we’re all invited.’

  ‘How thoughtful.’

  ‘Seriously Sades, you need to get out of the house. Do something normal.’

  ‘Normal.’ Sadie nodded. ‘Suppose I could give that a go.’