The Girls Across the Bay Read online

  “I don’t think she was.”

  Grace shrugged. “I think she knew if she didn’t find us, Eli would know she took us out against his wishes. She wasn’t even mad at us when we returned home. Do you remember that?”

  “I remember she told us never to leave her again.” Madigan clenched her jaw remembering the beating they’d each gotten the night before. They’d been given a mission to collect money from one of the richest neighbourhoods in Amherst for their supposed girl scout troupe, or some organization young girls collected money for. Eli changed the charity each time.

  They’d both gotten tired, and Madigan pitched a fit in front of one of the houses.

  When they returned back to the house, they each received their first bad beating from Eli, because they hadn’t followed through or hadn’t collected enough money. They were too young to remember, but whatever the reason, they both had trouble sitting for the week after. Madigan had tried to fight him off, ending up with an extra beating too.

  “She knew if she was caught bringing us the to the fair, she’d get a beating worse than ours,” Madigan said.

  “Eli knew the police wouldn’t follow up with us,” Grace sighed. “No matter how many marks or bruises, they really bought the whole kids-will-be-kids line.”

  “When he beat us the night before the fair—”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Grace asked, putting her feet up on the cooler, knocking sand from the bottom of her shoes onto the top of it. “Damn.”

  “Like?”

  “How was your day?” Grace asked. “Anything exciting going on in this town I don’t know about?”

  “Business as usual. Unless you know of anything?”

  Grace shook her head.

  She’d been careful not to burden Grace with any of her own problems since she came back, and after the rough day she guessed Grace had, she wanted to lighten the mood.

  “I set up our chief editor, Cindy, with the owner of Roy’s Tavern.”

  “Roy?”

  “Right, and looks like I might have a talent for matchmaking.”

  “Oh yeah?” Grace asked. “And speaking of, how’s your match?”

  After Grace came back from her undercover job, she seemed shocked to hear Madigan not only had a boyfriend, but that they’d moved in together. After hearing about him, she’d run his name through whatever system they had at the department, disappointed to report back that he was clean. According to her, that meant trouble—until she met Will soon after she moved in. He could win over even the toughest critics.

  “He’s good,” Madigan nodded. “At the hospital a lot.”

  “I know what it’s like to work crazy hours.” Grace set her beer back in the holder. “Do you two see each other a lot?”

  Madigan nodded. “It’s nice. He does his whole trauma surgery thing, and I have time to do my investigative reporting. Then, when we’re together, we get to relax a bit or do something fun.”

  “Like English horseback riding?” Grace asked and stifled a chuckle.

  Madigan shot her a look. “It’s good to try new things, and it was Will’s turn to pick.”

  “I know. You’re more of a western girl though. I’m surprised he didn’t choose that style.”

  “His parents are members of the country club, and they get free lessons. Plus, Will doesn’t know me as well as you do. We’ve only been together… six months. Or is it eight?”

  “Okay, okay. Any progress on getting closer to that front page?” Grace asked.

  In other words, why haven’t I made the front page yet? Change the subject.

  “Oh, actually, about Will. He texted to tell me he has some good news for me, so we’ll see what that is. I bet he got a promotion.”

  “Another one?”

  “Everyone at the hospital loves him,” Madigan said. “I bet they’re trying to hold on to a good thing.”

  “And how about you?” Grace asked, turning to her. “Are you finally doing the same?”

  Madigan sighed and took a swig from her bottle. She wondered if Grace was alluding to the fact she’d never been with any guy for long or any job for too long.

  Probably both.

  But she’d seen better days at the paper when she’d first started, and ever since Grace had implied there must be something wrong with Will, Madigan had tried to find his imperfections, as she always inevitably did.

  “You’re doing good,” Grace said. “I’m proud of you. You really seem like you have it together, you know?”

  Madigan had never done a good job of fooling Grace. They had both been trained with the same manipulation techniques, and they knew each other better than anyone.

  Or they used to.

  Grace hadn’t paid attention to the way Madigan’s smile faltered when she asked how her day was. How Madigan drank to avoid answering whether or not she was really trying to hang on to the life she’d built since Grace left to go undercover for over a year.

  “Better than my usual hot mess, huh?” Madigan smiled.

  “Well, I just meant—since Drew, you know?”

  The smile slipped from her lips as she nodded, pretending to agree, and losing focus as she glanced out at the ocean.

  It’s been ten years. No, eleven. How? How could you be gone for that long?

  Tears filled her eyes as the wind swept her hair across her face.

  I miss ya, Drew.

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” Grace whispered, and Madigan shook her head, although she was sorry too. “He was a great guy.”

  Madigan nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling.

  “Have you heard from your parents?” Grace asked.

  Madigan shook her head.

  Her adoptive parents, the Knoxes, had bought a summer home in Florida a year after their son—her brother—Drew’s death. They needed to get away from the things that reminded them of him—that was what they told Madigan—but she knew the truth.

  They wanted to get away from her.

  After she and Grace had been taken from Eli and Evette and split apart, she felt so lucky to have been sent to the Knox family. To become one of them and feel like she belonged—even if something had always and would always be missing.

  The Knoxes weren’t perfect, but she didn’t know a family who was.

  Grace’s next foster parents never adopted her or showed her much affection. Nothing like the bond Madigan developed with her new brother, Drew.

  You’re lucky, she would remind herself every day—until the accident.

  They had gone on a family camping trip, and while out on their kayaks, away from their parents, Drew’s had flipped over. The current had carried him away, drowning him before Madigan could reach him.

  “It kind of felt like I had a brother, too,” Grace whispered. “I loved coming to stay with you guys. He’d be proud of you.”

  Grace’s phone rang, the bleeping notes faint over the crashing waves.

  “I have to take this,” she said, bringing the phone to her ear. “Sheppard.”

  Madigan played with the loose material hanging from the arm of her chair as she sniffled back her tears.

  How could he be proud of me? If he saw me now and knew what Mom and Dad thought of me…

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to her sister. Grace frowned and stared down at the rocks.

  Something’s wrong.

  “We’ve got a possible homicide down near the subdivision by Thornhill,” Banning said, and Grace pressed the phone against her ear. “I’m sending you the address now. Get down here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Grace said. “I’m on my way.”

  As she turned to Madigan, her long highlighted hair blowing in the wind across her face, her heart sank a little, wishing they could have sat together a while longer.

  “This town’s not as quiet as it seems,” Grace said, standing from her chair.

  “What is it?” Madigan asked.

  Grace shook her head. “Can’t s
ay. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  Her heart thudded harder. Faster.

  I have to go now. I have to show them I’m reliable.

  “I totally understand,” Madigan nodded, her blue eyes staring up at her as she pulled on her faux leather jacket. “We’ll catch up later.”

  “Thanks for this,” Grace said, zipping her jacket up.

  “Anytime.” Madigan nodded and stood.

  She never wore much colour, and her rocker chic style hadn’t changed much since high school. While she had sometimes swapped out her black combat boots for sexy black ankle boots, rocker t-shirts and black nail polish had remained fashion staples for Madigan.

  Grace waved goodbye and jogged back up the beach toward the small rocky pathway.

  “It’s not a real first day on the job unless there’s a murder,” Grace muttered to herself as she backed out of her driveway.

  It was just as well. She hadn’t sat beside her sister for more than a minute before the beautiful moment had been filled with guilt, the guilt she felt that Leah would never get to see the ocean again, or spend time with her own sister, or any of her family.

  Why didn’t I leave it alone?

  The question seemed simple, but the answer proved to be complicated. She had spoken to her therapist about it on multiple occasions, and she must have given the right answer, because she was approved for work again.

  Leah Culper had been the contact chosen for Grace by the undercover unit, and they made fast friends right away—not only because Grace had the advantage of knowing an incredible amount of information about her—but because Leah surprised her.

  Leah hadn’t just been the girlfriend of the Drug King of Amherst. She was an artist. A friend. A doting daughter. Most of all, a protective sister who’d do anything for her sibling.

  The thing that connected them from the beginning had been something Leah never knew they had in common. Leah’s strength and weakness had been doing everything with all her heart.

  The trick Eli had taught Grace at a young age was something she’d later been trained to use as a detective. The most important part of her undercover assignment had been to exploit Leah, but her boyfriend, Conrad Burke, had been doing a better job of it before Grace came along. He’d abused her emotionally in front of everyone and physically behind closed doors. After more than a year of watching them together, Grace knew Leah would never leave him on her own.

  And that’s why she’d done what she did.

  Leah’s death rested on Grace’s shoulders, and although the weight had been almost too difficult to bear at times, she carried it because she needed to carry it.

  Simple as that.

  Every time something good happened, she reminded herself what a terrible person she was for what she’d done and that she didn’t deserve anything good.

  It made it easier to take the painful remarks from her colleagues after she came back in, the intense glares, and finally, the demotion she’d received to move from the city to Tall Pines.

  I got what was coming to me.

  The only thing left to do was work her way up again. It was the only way she could think of to atone for her mistake.

  As she turned down the short country road with only three houses, an ambulance and two police cars sat in front of the first house on the right. She knew who the first car belonged to before she could even read the plate. Chief Banning must have called her after realizing Mac was on the scene and hadn’t followed his orders to fill her in.

  As she parked behind Mac’s car, some movement across the street caught her eye: a neighbour peeking through her curtains.

  What have you seen tonight?

  As she walked up the long driveway, she passed an officer with a roll of yellow caution tape.

  “Mac inside?” she asked.

  “Sheppard?” the officer asked. “He said you’d be late. Young woman in her mid-twenties. Head injury and she bled out. Mac’s waiting for you in the kitchen with the vic’s fiancé. He’s the one who found her.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said, and strode along the path toward the front door.

  No distinguishable marks along the path, and no visible signs of forced entry at the front window or door.

  She stepped inside, and a bright red puddle on the taupe living room carpet caught her eye. Deep voices carried down the hallway, and she pulled on a pair of gloves before taking a step from the hardwood hallway onto the plush carpet in the living room.

  Red roses and petals lay scattered around a blonde woman, her hair dyed red by the blood, and her body sprawled out like she’d fallen, or been pushed down.

  As she crouched, light from the lamp reflected off a piece of glass. The rest of the broken glass vase had rolled under the living room table. Another glint caught her eye: a diamond engagement ring.

  The floral perfume of the roses mixed with the metallic smell of blood turned her stomach.

  The cycle of abuse. Apologies made. Promises broken.

  After Eli beat Evette bad enough to make her bleed, red roses were sure to follow the next day. She’d put them in her painted vase and sit them on the windowsill, admiring them as she did the dishes each night.

  She’d cry when he beat her and again when he brought the roses.

  Before they could wilt, they’d be at it again.

  “Sheppard?” Mac called from down the hall, shaking her out of her daze, and she stood.

  No ripped clothing. No blood on the vase.

  Where’s the M.E.?

  She stepped back into the hallway, her heels clicking against the hardwood, and walked toward a bright light in the kitchen. No picture frames hung on the walls, but a wooden sign hung above the entry to the small country-style kitchen.

  Home is where the heart is.

  The clichéd quote had always resonated with her.

  She entered the kitchen where a man at least a few years older than herself sat at the small round table. His button-up shirt hung loose over his front and tight around his toned upper arms. His sleeves had been rolled up and tattoos covered his forearms, stopping at his watch. A hint of grey hair through the dark locks at the sides of his head made her reconsider his age.

  Mac leaned back against the marble island with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m Detective Inspector Sheppard.” She turned to the man.

  “John Talbot,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Mr. Talbot,” Mac said, “please tell us what happened tonight.”

  Grace pulled a wooden chair out from the table and sat opposite John before taking out her phone and hitting record.

  “I just—” John started, resting his hands on the table, and turning to Mac. “Could you please just look into him?”

  “I’ll be having a word with everyone who might be able to shed some light on what happened here tonight.”

  “I told you, I just got here, and she …” Tears slid down John’s tanned cheeks, and he shook his head.

  “Before then,” Grace said.

  “I came home from work tonight at about seven.”

  He stared down at his dry hands, small cuts along his forefingers.

  He works with those hands.

  “John,” she said. “I understand this must be very difficult for you, but if you want to help us find out who did this, we need you to cooperate.”

  He frowned, staring at the table. “I brought Lily those flowers. I was late coming home because I stopped to get her flowers. She put them in that vase from her mother. I know that because the vase was supposed to be some kind of peace offering. I watched her. She put them in the vase before we had supper.”

  A peace offering?

  “So you ate,” Mac said and glanced over his shoulder toward the sink.

  Grace had already noted it was empty. If they’d eaten, their dinner had been cleaned up.

  “Yes. Then I went to Amherst.”

  “Why?” Mac asked.

  “To see a friend,” he said, frowning.
“I met a friend I know through work for coffee.”

  The front door creaked open, and Mac leaned backward to see through the doorway.

  “Lockwood,” Mac said, nodding to someone down the hall, and stood up straight again. “You met a friend?”

  “Yes, and then I drove back along Bones Bay instead of the highway.”

  “And what happened when you came back?” Grace asked.

  “I walked in and found her like that. The vase smashed. Flowers…” He shook his head again and pressed his hands over his face. “I—I called the cops as soon as I could—could catch my breath.”

  “Where do you work?” Mac asked.

  “Thom’s Tackle Shop.” He choked out the words, wiping at his red face and clearing his throat. “Bait and tackle shop on Bones Drive, right at the end by the bay. I work for Thom Hanks.”

  Grace frowned at the name.

  Like the movie star?

  “What friend did you see?” Mac asked. “I need you to write down their name and number.”

  Grace tore off a piece of paper from the small pad she carried and handed it to John with her pen. He wrote it down and slid it back to her.

  “His name’s Luke. We’re old friends.” John crossed his arms. “Met at the shop. He fishes. Hadn’t seen each other in a while, so we were catching up. Listen, you’re wasting your time talking to me. You have to go see Mickey Clarke.”

  “Why?” Grace asked. The name sounded familiar.

  “Lily had a restraining order on him. No contact. She used to work for him until a month ago, and after she quit, he didn’t get the hint that she wasn’t interested in him. He’d show up at her new job.”

  “Where’s that?” Mac asked.

  “She worked at his club, Wild Card, as a server and bartender while taking classes to be a realtor. She graduated this summer, and she quit as soon as she sold her first home. He’d show up at her office or follow her and pretend it was a coincidence when they saw each other.”

  He spaced out again and looked up at Mac.

  “I took her to see you guys at the department—twice—and it took a bruised arm before you granted her the no contact order,” John said through his teeth. “He’s a dangerous prick, and he hurt her. He’d do it again. It was him.” Tears welled up in his red eyes.