Entry Island(111)

‘It’s been known.’ He paused. ‘Unless you’d rather go up on deck handcuffed to me for all the passengers and crew to see.’

Her jaw set and she turned to gaze sightlessly through the windshield. ‘I’ll stay in the van.’

He nodded and slipped wearily out of the vehicle to climb the stairs to the top deck, and there make his way along to the prow of the boat. He closed aching, scratchy eyes, and felt the wind in his face like cold water, refreshing, bracing, but not enough to wash away his fatigue or his sense of guilt and betrayal.

He turned to find his way unsteadily back to the stern, and stand holding the rail while he watched Entry Island receding into the gloom of approaching night. He remembered the touch of Kirsty’s fingers on his cheek. Could almost feel them still. And everything about what he was doing seemed wrong.

II

As they drove past the hospital and the Auberge Madeli, torn lumps of ragged black cloud blew across the island from the west, underlit by a fiery sunset that burned white hot along the horizon, turning to yellow and red, then purple, all across the underside of the clouds. It looked as if the sky were on fire, and Sime was not sure he had ever seen a sunset like it.

But like all things that burn so brightly, it burned itself out all too fast, and by the time they reached the police station on the Chemin du Gros Cap the sun had gone, leaving behind it only a charred sky.

There was still a little light left in it as Sime led Kirsty into the single-storey building. Yellow electric light fell out in oblongs from the glass doors, and as they pushed through them, heads swung in their direction. From the open door of the general office where secretaries watched wide-eyed. From the incident room next door, where several members of the investigation team were lounging around a table cluttered with papers and open laptops and telephones. They were relaxed now. Job done. Thomas Blanc fleetingly caught his eye then looked away.

Crozes was standing at the end of the hall. He turned, and Sime saw the look of satisfaction on his face, a face still bruised from their encounter in the early hours. ‘This way,’ he called.

He stood at the door to the cells to let them by. Inside, a uniformed female officer was waiting. Kirsty cast Crozes a dark look as she passed. Sime stopped her in front of the first of two cells and she turned to him. He saw in her expression the same contempt with which he had become so familiar in Marie-Ange. ‘So now we know who was screwing your wife,’ she said.

Sime glanced at Crozes, whose eyes narrowed with incredulity, his head half cocked in disbelief. But Sime was past caring. He leaned into the cell to drop Kirsty’s bag on the floor by the cot bed set along the right-hand wall.

She looked into it. ‘This is it?’ she said. ‘This is where you’re going to keep me?’

‘For the time being,’ Crozes said.

The walls were painted a pale lemon, the same colour as the sheet on the bed. The vinyl floor was blue, as were the pillow and duvet. ‘Very Mediterranean,’ she said. ‘And colour-coordinated too. What more could a girl ask for?’

There was no door on the cell. Only bars that slid shut on it, so there was no privacy. A stainless-steel unit incorporated a washbasin and toilet in one. Set into the far wall beyond the second cell was a tiled shower. Bleak and depressing. But however despondent she might have felt, Kirsty was determined not to show it.

Crozes said, ‘Have you spoken to a lawyer?’

‘I don’t have one.’ And without looking at Sime, she said, ‘He told me I could call one from here.’

Crozes nodded. ‘Next door.’ And he took her through to the interview room. ‘No doubt you’ll want your lawyer present at all future interviews.’

Kirsty wheeled around, eyes flashing. ‘You bet your life I do.’ And she stabbed a finger towards Sime standing in the doorway. ‘But don’t expect me to say a single damned thing if he’s even in the building.’

*

The incident room was empty when they went in and Sime wondered where everyone had gone. It wasn’t long until he found out. Crozes closed the door behind them. His voice was low and threatening. ‘I’m not even going to ask what the hell you were doing on Entry Island. Or how she knew.’

Sime looked at him disingenuously. ‘Knew what?’

‘About us.’

Sime held up his fist. ‘Busted knuckles. Bruised face. Broken marriage. It doesn’t take much to put the pieces together.’

It was impossible to tell from Crozes’s face what was going through his mind, but whatever thoughts they were never found voice. He said, ‘She’ll be charged and held here until a plea hearing can be set up at the courthouse on Havre Aubert. Any subsequent trial will held on the mainland.’ He stopped to draw a thoughtful breath. ‘Meantime, I’m taking the team back to Montreal first thing in the morning. And your part in this investigation is over.’