“There's nothing normal about any of it.”
“I think you should stay in the village for a while, just until-”
“My home is here, Miss. I'll be fine, honestly. Could be worse.” His eyes flicked toward David, then back at the rocky ground.
Chapter 2
– I Am Waiting –
In the morning Emma sat on the edge of the bed, or at least the general margin where bed became not bed. She listened to her husband's snoring and the dripping sound of the faucet. When the tapping noise began to sound like rocks falling on a bass drum she got up and walked to the bathroom. There was no drip. The sound continued from some other room on the other side of the wall.
In the bedroom, the early morning light hit David on the horizontal plane. The beam was choked with spiraling dust. For some reason it reminded her of the time in her first criminal investigation when she used a black light in a hotel room. They always made the rookies do that. It wasn't part of any forensic technique, but it was fun to see the new girl try not to be sick.
She took the sweaters out of the drawer where she had shoved them the day before and started folding them neatly on the desk. From the desk she got a good view out the window.
The little houses hadn’t changed. The narrow street wound between the houses and down to the sea like a drainage canal. Fog obscured the waterline while the winds changed direction, giving the impression that the village was built on the edge of an abyss. A quiet mind would love this scene, a cute tumbledown village scrubbed clean each night by wind and water. She tucked the sleeves of a dark green sweater into a fold and set it aside. Looking at the pile again, she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t folded the same sweater three times already.
David hadn't moved from where they had plopped him the night before. The whole walk from Steve's place they had taken turns propping him up and assuring him that everything was alright. Emma was tired of resenting him and felt guilty for being ashamed. She always knew she didn't want to be one of those people on the television taking care of a chronically ill child or a parent with dementia. She knew what people meant when they said “so courageous” with those flinching eyes. She hated the thoughts that forced their way into her mind when she let her guard down. And her guard was dropping more often than usual.
One of the memories she wished she could purge from her brain was the man in the hotel bar in Derby. She didn’t even know his name. Nothing happened between them, but at the time she wished it had. That was the part that made her sick. That moron switching between Stella and cheap vodka was the unknown. Something, anything else. It was disgusting to think that this was all it took to tempt her. A fresh start anywhere, even a hotel bar in Derby.
There is no such thing as a clean slate.
Emma sat back down on the bed and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. She was tired of wanting it to be over with, and tired of hating herself every time she thought about what it would be like on her own, working a case without distraction.
An urgent knock interrupted her thoughts. She tried to ignore it, but it grew louder with each bang. Emma fumbled for the door knob. It gave her a moment’s pleasure to imagine locking the door and never dealing with Jessie or anyone else again.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Cambourne, PC Cambourne. Ma'am.”
“Jessie?”
“It's me, Jessie.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“It's very important, can I come in?”
“Can it wait? I'll be down later.”
Jessie shouted at breakneck speed into the door. “Well, I don't think it can, Mrs. PC, ma'am. It's Gregory Browne's wife Lily, see. She went to the station early this morning, and Evan didn't answer, which on its own is pretty normal because he's usually dead to the world this time of morning...”
Emma opened the door. The younger woman was shouting into the keyhole as if the whole door wasn't made of saw dust and good intentions.
“Jessie, if it's important could you just say it?”
“Evan's dead, Ma'am. At the station.”
Emma only noticed she had lost track of time when Jessie started talking again.
“…or should I not?”
Emma tried to shake her head clear. “What? How did he die?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Who?” Her skin felt alternately hot and cold.
“Lily, Constable. I said, she-”
“Lily? Is she there now? Who’s up there?”
“I don't know. She ran here and told me to get you and then ran off again.”
“Jesus, there's an unattended body up on the hill?” The shock parted and revealed a burning fight or flight response. “I'm on my way. Find the Governor General and tell him to meet me at the station immediately.”
The day wind was picking up speed when Emma ran out into the street and up the hill. She felt it at her back, pushing her up the hill to the station.
Emma used her only latex glove and a delicate grip to turn the handle of the front door. A man was on the other side, helping himself to a cup of tea. Evan's body was slumped forward in a chair surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. Two people took turns poking Evan in the stomach. Several men and women wandered around the room looking bored.
Emma shouted over the heads of the small crowd. “What in the blazing Christ is going on here? Get the hell out, all of you! Wait. Who found the body?”
Lily Browne raised her hand. To do so she had to put down a bulky television set.
“You stay. Everyone else, get out, and for fuck's sake, don't touch anything.”
On their way out, the people covered their own tracks with fresh muddy prints, which in turn
