Darkness My Old Friend

“He walked in on her with someone, went into a rage, and killed her. But he adored her, couldn’t stand what he had done. So he repressed the memory.”

Eloise knew that Ray was just talking, sounding it out.

“There was another man there, too,” she reminded him. She looked at the steeping pot, the blue and white flowers on porcelain. It had been a gift from her daughter. Eloise missed her girl so much. For whatever reason, in that moment, the ache of it was almost unbearable. Eloise was going to call her. They needed to talk. Maybe she would go to see her daughter, invited or not; maybe it would help Amanda not to have to come to this house where so many ghosts lived and visited.

“Mack.” Ray’s voice brought her back. She wanted to be present for him, but somehow she couldn’t stop thinking about what Jones Cooper had said to her. His words had wormed their way into her thoughts about who she was, about what she was doing, about her relationship to Ray, whom she really did love.

“He was working that night,” she said.

“Maybe he came home? Maybe he covered for Michael all these years. That’s what sent him over the edge. A fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t have the wherewithal to bury his mother.”

“Maybe not.” She didn’t want to think about these things anymore tonight.

“Michael thought the answers were in that house,” Ray said. “He also suspected that Claudia Miller knew more than she ever said.”

“So maybe you should pay her one more visit,” Eloise suggested. “Tell her about the bones.”

“You think she’ll talk now? Now that we’ve found Marla Holt?”

Eloise had no idea. She just knew she didn’t want to talk anymore-not about death, not about murder, not about pain and suffering and decades of lies.

“Maybe,” she said.

He didn’t need much more encouragement; he was in that agitated state. He wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sit still until he knew he’d exhausted every avenue. And then he’d brood. Karen was right to have left him. He’d never cared as much about anyone as he’d cared about this work. Not even Eloise.

He was walking past her then, to get his coat from the laundry room. And then he was at the door. Before he left, he glanced at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His hand rested on the doorknob.

She took a step toward him. “You know, Ray, I’m thinking about taking a little time off. Maybe I’ll go to Seattle to see Amanda and the kids.”

Something played out on his face, a pull of sadness, a shade of regret. She expected him to argue, to remind her about their waiting list, about their responsibilities to everyone who needed justice and answers. But no.

“That sounds like a great idea, Eloise,” he said. He gave her a warm smile, came back to hold her wrist lightly in his hand. “You should do that. It would be good for you. It would be good for Amanda.”

“Ray.”

He drew her into a quick, tight embrace and then opened the door. She was about to ask him if he’d consider going with her. But by the time she got the words out, he was gone.

“Did you hear?” said Jolie. “About the bones?”

Jolie was sitting in the front seat with Cole. The car reeked of stale cigarette smoke. It lived in the upholstery, tickled the back of Willow’s throat, made her sinuses ache. Jolie lit another cigarette, let the smoke drift from her mouth into her nostrils.

“Crack the window,” Cole said. She rolled her eyes at him but did as he said. Willow watched as the smoke was sucked out in a thin, flat line.

“What bones?” asked Willow. She was already there, in that place of regret she knew so well. It sat in the pit of her stomach. In the rearview mirror, she saw Cole staring at her, though he’d barely acknowledged her since she slipped out to meet him. She hadn’t asked him why he didn’t show up the other day. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Out by the Chapel,” Jolie said. She had the ghost-story face. A gleeful, wide-eyed menace lit her gaze. “Where you saw that freak Michael Holt digging? They found bones.”

Willow felt the tingle of curiosity. “Just like he told my mom.”

“No,” said Jolie. “The bones belonged to his mother. Everyone thought she’d run off ages ago. Turns out she was murdered.”

Cole brought the car to a stop by the side of the road, and Willow saw that they were back at the awful graveyard. Oh, no. What’s wrong with me? Why do I do things like this?

“What are we doing here?” Willow asked.

“Don’t you want to see where he was digging?”

“No,” she said.

“He’s still back here,” said Jolie. “He ran off when they found the bones. They think he went down into the mines, that he might be living down there.”

“Yeah, like the mole people,” said Cole. “Did you ever hear about that? People live in the abandoned subway tunnels beneath New York City.”

“That’s an urban legend,” said Willow, even though she knew it wasn’t. Her voice came out more sharply than she’d intended. She didn’t like it when people who’d never lived there pretended to know things about New York City. He was still staring at her in the mirror, but she forced herself to look at Jolie.

“You don’t want to go?” said Jolie. She seemed incredulous.

“Last time we were out here, you thought I was lying,” Willow said. “You didn’t believe me.”

“Well, I believe you now.”

Cole turned to look at Willow; his face was pale in the dim light. He had dark shiners of fatigue under his eyes. If she didn’t hate him, she’d have asked him if he was okay. But she did hate him, a little. The rain was drumming on the roof of the car. Out the window she could barely see the tombstones. Why would anyone want to go tramping through the dark woods in the pouring rain when a crazy murderous freak could be lurking out there? She asked Jolie as much, and Cole issued a laugh.

“That’s what I said,” said Cole.

Jolie started to get sullen. “That’s the problem with this place. Everyone is so fucking dull, dull, dull. Where is your sense of adventure?”

Willow found that she didn’t really care what Jolie thought of her anymore. The whole enterprise was asinine. It was stupid, and beyond that, she had been so awful to her mother and now she was out here in the middle of a huge storm with these two. She’d run off on her mother again, let her down again. She didn’t have her cell phone. When her mother discovered she was gone-and it wouldn’t be long-she was going to be terrified.

“Those kids are lost,” her mother had told her. “No one’s looking after them. You might think that’s cool. But you’re wrong. It’s sad.” In this moment Willow finally understood what her mother meant. But it was probably too late. Her mother was never going to forgive her for this night. She looked at Cole in the rearview mirror.

“Can you take me home?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. He turned on the ignition.

“What?” said Jolie. Her voice went shrill, her eyes narrowing to two small points of anger. “You guys are such pussies.”

And in the next second, Jolie pulled on her hood and stepped out into the rain. Willow saw the bouncing of her flashlight beam in the night as she stalked off.

“She’s crazy,” said Willow. She rolled down the window. “Jolie!” she yelled. “This is nuts! Come back!”

“Fuck you guys!” Jolie’s voice sounded small and childlike in the rain, barely a whisper on the air. Willow brought the window back up when the beam disappeared into the trees. Cole was looking out after Jolie, too.

“Let’s go get her,” said Willow, yanking up her hood.

“Hold on,” he said. “She’s going to be back in like one minute. Trust me.”

She didn’t say anything, watching the night, willing Jolie to come back. Otherwise Willow knew they were going to have to go out after her. They wouldn’t leave her out there. And Jolie knew it, too.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said after a moment.

“For what?” Now he was looking at her over the seat. Willow tried not to stare at him. Those eyes thick with