Unlike the gradual slope of the high street, the alley ended in a staircase. They made their way down the slippery steps using both hands to steady themselves on the mossy rock wall. It delivered them directly to the harbor, where a circle of men and women were swearing at a boat motor. Emma and David stopped at the sea wall.
“OK, we’re here. We’ve got today, probably the next day and the one after that. You’ve got a job to do. But you don’t have to do it alone. I can help.”
“No... No, David don't get involved with this. I don't know what that woman might do.”
“You mean you don't know what I might do.”
The man with the giant beard and one good eye sat on the sea wall a few feet away and lit a pipe.
Emma looked down and tried to think of a lie. She lowered her voice so the man wouldn’t hear. “I'm just trying to protect you. What if I'm not there when something happens?” She wondered if he would complain about her later to Jessie. David probably had friends all over the island by now.
He said nothing. It was always the worst when he wouldn't yell at her, when he let her stew in it by herself. It wasn't fair. But she deserved it.
They stood by the sea wall and looked out on the water. The day wind came off the sea, blowing the fog uphill. On the horizon the water was a single plane of bluish gray. As Emma looked closer to shore it separated into lines and then individual waves. The white caps looked like soap on a greasy puddle. On the shoreline the waves smashed into the stone wall that circled the island splashing foam up and onto her shoes. It smelled like stale urine after a music festival. The ocean formed swirls and eddies in its struggle to pulverize the island, and in one of these pools of calm water a pair of eyes stared back at her. A set of whiskers flicked up and down in front of each eye. The face disappeared under the water. A flipper slapped the surface a few feet away and the face popped up again.
The fisherman watching Emma from the sea wall tapped his pipe against the stones and followed her eyes. “Ha! I see you’ve met Ned.”
“You named it Ned?”
“Well, he likes to keep an eye on things. Seemed appropriate.”
“How do you know it’s the same seal?”
“There’s only one fur seal visits this island. Never leaves either, just hangs around and watches.”
The three of them looked at the animal. It blinked twice and disappeared below the water. David wiped the grease from his fingers as best he could and put his hand on hers.
“There are ways you can be a good cop that don’t involve chasing down a suspect. Try doing one good thing and see where it goes.”
Emma kept looking to see if the seal came back.
After lunch Emma put her plan into action. She did her best power walk back to the station, where Zoe sat in Evan’s chair with her feet on the desk.
“How was lunch, Copper?”
Emma wiped mud from the desk with the corner of her coat. “I’m paying a visit to Steve today, see how he’s holding up.”
“You do that a lot.”
“This is only the second time I’ve been out to his place.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” Zoe tapped her boots together, causing a few fresh crumbles of dried mud to scatter across the desk.
Emma resisted the urge to wipe the desk clean a second time. “It would be helpful if you came with me.”
“Oh? Why?”
“I want to get a statement from him about Evan. You knew Evan better than I did, so you might be able to help. Like a deputy of sorts.”
“Ooh, like on American TV. Love it. I’m eager to help any way that I can.”
An isolated location seemed the best place to get Zoe talking. And if Emma could catch her out in a lie, she needed to search the station before Zoe had a chance to hide the evidence.
“In fact, Constable, I know the fastest way to get there.”
During daylight hours The Culley offered a tempting shortcut around the rough terrain of the downs. It was a small, wooded fissure that ran straight through the volcanic landscape like a hatchet wound. The stunted buckthorn trees that grew in the thin soil formed a canopy so low the two women needed to duck under the branches in places. It was widely known that only children could see far enough not to get lost in The Culley, which led Emma to wonder if anyone on South Alderney had heard of crouching. The lowest branches could be dodged, but some higher up combed through her hair like dangling fingers. The air settled in the low trench of rock, bringing a whisper of the smell from the cannery.
The disorienting thing was the sound. There was hardly any of it. And when an occasional storm petrel or a seagull screamed nearby, she couldn't tell where it was coming from. It was so quiet she almost jumped when Zoe spoke.
“Where abouts are you from in America?”
“Pennsylvania. Harrisburg.”
“And you were a copper back home?”
“London's my home. What about you, do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Home, Ms. Hall.”
“I am home.”
“You know what I mean. You’re not from around here, really.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Emma. This is my island. My own little forgotten corner of the world. Like a yacht for me and my closest friends.”
Emma rolled her eyes but said nothing while Zoe prattled on.
“When you think
