After sliding on my track pantsand trying—and failing—to finger brush my hair on the way back, Itake a deep breath and open the door.
“Good morning,” says the plainclothes cop, giving me a tight smile. “Are you Jade Banks?”
I nod.
“Ms. Banks, I’m DetectiveDickson, and this is Constable Lyster. I was wondering if we couldhave a few minutes of your time? Is it okay if we come in?”
I hold the door open and the menwalk in. The tall, plain clothes man is much older than histag-a-long. There’s a sharp, easy arrogance to him. His sidekicklooks like he’s still trying to fit into his rigid uniform.
“What can I do for you,gentlemen?”
“Have a seat, Jade. Thisshouldn’t take long.”
I should be nervous. I should beremembering the lies I just told the police a few days before. Ishould be panicking, but all I can think about is Annie.
“I’m a detective from Vancouver.I was assigned to the case of the recovered body, a few bays overfrom here. A man named Robert James.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But Ialready talked to the cops at the beach. I don’t know anything morethan what I told them.” I don’t intend to sound rude, but Ifail.
Dickson reaches into his blazerpocket and pulls out a picture. “This was found underneath thebody. Does this belong to you?”
I take the picture and lookdown. It’s a picture of a blue square in an evidence bag. I’mconfused for a moment before it hits me. What I’d thought was abackpack was actually a pad. A floatation seat pad that has Banksstenciled on it. Oh my God, it’s from my boat.
Denny. The name explodes in mybrain. The air sucks from my lungs.
The detective doesn’t take hiseyes off me, looking for a sign of guilt, I presume—something theyprobably taught him how to do in training. I stare back, trying toconvey an aura of innocence, trying to breath at a normal rate. I’ma lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them.
“Did you know the man?” he asks,slightly tilting his head.
“Did I know him? No.” I’m onlyhalf lying. The truth is, I have no idea who Robbie really is, butI don’t think that’s what Dickson is asking.
Dickson stands, and Lysterfollows suit. “Do you mind if we look around the property?”
“No, of course not. Anything tohelp with your investigation.”
He gives me a smile—aprofessional one.
The two men head to the door.Just before Dickson walks out, he turns to me. “Any idea how thedead man ended up with your floatation device?”
“I guess it’s possible that hewas roaming around the area and stumbled across my wharf. My boatis always uncovered. Anyone can go into it.”
He smiles again and then followsthe tenderfoot out into the yard.
As soon they’re out of sight, Ilook down at my hands. They start to shake. Thankfully, this wasn’thappening while the men were here.
I pour myself a glass of waterand sit at the kitchen table. I take a long drink and look acrossthe yard to the wharf. Watching as my small skiff gently rocks backand forth on the waves. How the hell did things get so messed up soquickly? And how, after everything we’ve been through, could Anniejust walk out on me? I’ll wait to cry until I’m sure the cops aregone, just in case they see me and assume my tears mean somethingelse.
The detective is walking out onthe dock, toward my boat. He peers into the K&C, then takes outa pen and paper from a pocket and writes something down. Then hestands for a few minutes and looks out over the bay. He’s thinking,trying to piece together how Robbie could’ve taken the floatationpad and then ended up dead just a couple bays down. Solving crimemust be a lot like putting a huge puzzle together. I don’t envyhim.
However, if any information doescome his way, I hope he shares it. I realise that I want to knowwhat happened, maybe that way, I’ll find out what happened to Anniethat night. If he did rape her, he’s exactly where he shouldbe.
Not having anyone to nag me, Igrab a smoke from a tin I hide under the couch and light one.Taking a deep puff, I immediately start to cough—I guess goingwithout one for so long lowered my resistance. I walk outside andstomp out the rest of my smoke just as the cops get back in theircar and drive off.
It dawns on me only then what Ihad done. Or rather, what I hadn’t done. I’m not sure why I hadn’ttold them what I knew about Robbie.
I think of Annie and her fieryeyes. ``If you even so much as whisper about what I went through, Iwill never trust you again.’
I think about what I can tellher now. I didn’t say a word. I looked him in the eye and lied—liedto a detective from Vancouver. For you, Annie.
I walk back in the house and lieon her side of the bed, my face buried in her pillow.
Chapter Seven
The next three weeks at work arepainful. I can’t stop thinking about Annie. I keep screwing up thesimplest tasks, tasks I’ve done without flaw for years. Yesterday,the boss called me into his office and asked what was up. I didn’tsay anything about my current situation, I just apologizedprofusely. I need this job. If I were fired, I’d have no income atall.
I think of those papers Dennyhad wanted me to sign. I’ve wondered before if my father left meanything in the will. I doubted it. If he did, I’d have to contactDenny and frankly, I’d rather starve.
The weather changes. Summer ison the way out as autumn pushes its way into the West Coast. It’s abeautiful time of year, lots of vibrant colors on the trees, butthe wind on a small island is strong and cold. I grab my bag andnod to Tim as I head out to the almost empty lot of the hatchery.It’s pissing rain.
When I get off the ferry andhead toward home, I notice a dog veering from the shoulder of theroad to yellow center line. I honk twice, but he doesn’t run
