These Still Black Waters by Christina McDonald

Author:Christina McDonald [McDonald, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

NEVE

I peer around the corner as Detective Lambert snaps her cane open and limps after Detective Casey. Her bad leg drags more than usual in her drunken state, and I notice a few of the cops nearby exchanging smirks. I feel bad for her, angry on her behalf.

I follow the detectives outside but stop when I see them arguing at the edge of the parking lot. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but after a few minutes, Detective Casey gets in his car and drives away while Detective Lambert limps down the road in the opposite direction.

I consider going inside and finishing that drink, but in my peripheral vision, I see a flash of long dark hair, flawless porcelain skin.

It can’t be.

I turn, my eyes scanning the parking lot.

There, heading across the road in the direction of the beach. For a brief second, the woman is illuminated by a backlit sign standing in front of the little white clapboard church across from the bar.

I stare in stunned surprise.

Bailey.

I hurry after her. She moves out of the light, into the shadows, but I’m catching up to her.

And then I’m right there, almost directly behind her, and I hear her laugh. She has a cell phone pressed to her ear when she steps into the arc of the next streetlight, but her head swivels over her shoulder, as if sensing I’m there. My footsteps falter, and I hover in the shadows because it isn’t Bee at all. Just a woman who looks vaguely like her.

The woman tosses an alarmed look at me and hurries away. I stand there in the dark, waiting for my heart to stop beating so hard. Of course she wasn’t really there. I was stupid to go running after a stranger like that. Sometimes we want something so much, we imagine it rather than facing the truth.

Why do I keep seeing her? Or keep thinking I’m seeing her? She’s dead. Although I never saw her body.

I stop in the middle of the street.

I saw a body, but I never saw her body. Could this all be a mistake?

No, there’s no way. Her husband ID’d her body. The police are certain it was her. Perhaps this is just my dirty conscience coming back to haunt me.

I continue to where the street dead-ends against the lake, the beach stretching along the water. My shoes sink into the sand, which has turned white under the milky moonlight. The water is still, an oily black with a white moon smudged across it.

A little way down the beach is an old playground, a rusted swing set next to a merry-go-round and a slide. I sit on a swing and kick my heels into the ground so I’m rocking gently. Faint music from the bar leaches down to where I sit on the swing, pulsing as the door opens, then closes.

I think of the things I overheard the detectives speaking about. Another body’s been found, a message carved into her tongue. The detective said it was the same MO.

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