Little Hidden Darknesses

“I didn’t murder Benjy and Bobby!” I declared for the thousandth time. And for the thousandth time, Chief Constable Salameh of the Evermist Police gestured for me to quiet down, to make proper use of my right to remain silent. But if I didn’t say anything, how could I deny my guilt?

“Constable –” I started to say, when he stopped scribbling and sat up, his thick brows cloaking his eyes.

“That’s Chief Constable to you.”

Constable. Chief. Chief Constable. Who the heck cared? He was but one of five police officers on the island, and likely obtained the position through winning a game of poker.

“Now, I don’t usually take on cases myself,” he said, a slight accent evident in his voice. Arabic, I guessed. He reached for the top left drawer of his desk, opened it and took out a pipe and jar of tobacco. While he prepared everything, he spoke on, “I am the Chief Constable, after all.”

A pause in which he lit the pipe and took a puff. “But we’re talking here about two murdered boys.”

“I didn’t kill them,” I insisted, even before he properly finished. My hands were balled in my lap, the bottom of my legs growing warm against the plastic that covered the chair.

“So you keep saying,” he replied.

Like you keep reminding me of your title, I thought, tensing my jaw to keep myself from blurting it out.

“But, lest you forget, we’ve got an eye witness to point you out. You and your possible accomplice.”

“Alejandro’s got nothing to do with this.” I spoke before I properly considered it, and by the smirk on the Chief Constable’s face, it seemed I had given him exactly what he wanted.

A possible confession.

“So you admit to being involved somehow?” he asked, twirling one end of his moustache. He reminded me of Poirot from Agatha Christie’s detective series – my mum’s favourite books. Except unlike Poirot, this guy had nothing darling or classy about him. His hair, almost smoothed into a combover, looked greasier than chips in a fryer. He had four chins and a belly that barely fit behind his desk, and a tie that properly strangled him.

I rolled my thumbs in my lap as I replied, “No, not at all. I just said Alejandro is innocent.”

“I know,” said the Chief Constable midst puff. “We never intended on bringing him in. He’s a good kid, that one. His dad and I went to school together. May Fernando rest in peace.”

I watched him cross his chest in respect to Alejandro’s dad, then pick up a pen to resume my paperwork. Save for the reason for my arrest – breaking and entering, and possible murder – nothing else had been filled in. Not my name. My address. My age or gender.

If only we weren’t in his office – tucked away in the farthest corner of the station, and with bars on the windows – I might’ve been able to make a break for it, flee toward the nearest bank of fog. The one place they wouldn’t follow me to. But, then again, I couldn’t stay in there forever. And with all of my belongings at the motel, they’d likely wait for me there.

I sighed and sank in the chair. The plastic squealed under me, the only sound other than the Chief Constable’s scribbling pen and symphony of office noises from beyond the door. Telephones ringing. Officers chatting, laughing. Somewhere someone asked for coffee and a slice of cake. A normal day at work for them. An abnormal day of being framed for me.

In all odds, I was doomed. Condemned to a life behind bars, and all because I wanted to know the truth. Great job, Eira. You had one job. One job, and now you’ve gotten yourself arrested.

“I didn’t kill Benjy and Bobby,” I said one final time, and my inner critique merely laughed at me. As if he didn’t hear you the first hundred times.

Shut up.

But she – I – was right. The Chief Constable paid no attention to me. He finished writing and sat up, then read the form’s contents aloud, “The Evermist Police is hereby charging you for breaking and entering, and murder in the first degree. We’ve got a witness that places you inside the locked school building, and who claims that after they confronted you, you snapped and pushed the two boys, Benjy and Bobby Moore, into the fog.”

“What?” I blurted out and slid forward in the chair, my palms slamming flat against the Chief Constable’s desk. The sound echoed throughout his office. “Did Freya tell you that? She’s lying.”

“Oh? Need I remind you, Miss Freya Vinsant proves an esteemed member of this community –”

“Esteemed my ass,” I interjected, on my feet now. “She didn’t confront me, she threatened me. They were about to throw Alejandro into the fog, and I had to do something to save him.” As soon as I said this, I bit my lip. Damn it, Eira. You basically just fucking confessed.

Shut up.

Shut up.

“Shut up!” The words escaped into the office, into the Chief Constable’s face, without my intention. I wanted to clap my hand to my mouth, but the life had drained from my limbs.

“Pardon me?”

My throat parched. “I – I’m sorry, Constable – uh, Chief Constable. I didn’t mean you. But I –”

Chief Constable Salameh stared at me without blinking, without puffing on his pipe, until I sat back down. Then, he brandished his pipe through the air, his moustache wiggling in satisfaction of having shaken me up. “So, you killed them in self-defence?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I see. You don’t seem to understand. Around here, pushing someone into the fog is killing someone.”

My teeth grinded together as I hissed, “That’s a lie. It all is. You don’t die when you touch the fog.”

This seemed to interest the Chief Constable, as he narrowed his already narrowed eyes even more. Instead of almonds, they now resembled sunflower seeds. Tiny and slender and dark. “You my dear, are very clearly deranged. Everyone knows no one ever leaves the fog alive.”

“Exactly. Don’t you find that odd?” I persisted.

No reply. Not even a sigh or an eyeroll. He probably figured I was no longer worth the energy.

“I mean,” I went on, “I found both Benjy and Bobby’s clothes on the other side of the forest. If anything, that proves they made it through. That something happened to them after they emerged. They’re not dead, Chief Constable. They swam away. Or they’re in the forest. Or –” I swallowed my words, unable to say them aloud. Not to someone else, anyway.

Not when I wasn’t sure.

“Or what?” the Chief Constable wanted to know. He put down his pipe and leaned forward across his desk, his hands interlaced under one of his four chins. I thought his overcoat might rip as he did so, but the buttons held on, staying true to what they were made to do.

“Or,” I started up, withholding a nervous swallow, “they were kidnapped and murdered elsewhere.”

The Chief Constable didn’t say anything for several seconds, after which his eyes welled up and he started to laugh. It emerged as wet and scratchy coughs, laced with a type of wheeze.

I cringed at the sound of it, disgusted by the way he dismissed me. He didn’t even know me.

“I’m not lying,” I insisted, alas to no success.

Chief Constable Salameh wiped under his eyes and took up the pen again. “So,” he went on, “what’s your name then, love?”

I briefly considered lying – he didn’t know me, after all – but reconsidered when I thought about everyone in town who already knew me. If my lie surfaced, I’d look especially guilty.

“Eira,” I told him, against my every fibre. “Eira Vinsant.”

The Chief Constable paused after writing my name. Then, he sighed and dropped the pen again, this time with so much force, it skidded off the desk and onto the grimy tiles. He smoothed his brows with a his thick and stubby thumb, then sighed so loud, his breath hit my face.

Tobacco and coffee.

Yuk.

“Eira,” he said with his mouth pulled askew and his sunflower seed eyes scanning the form. “I’ll be honest with you. You don’t look like a murderer. And I’d really like to help you.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“I can’t. Not if you keep lying to me.”

Bloody hell, what more did this guy want? My voice pitched, “Really? What have I lied about now?”

The Chief Constable tapped my name with his finger. “Eira Vinsant? Really? You expect me to believe you’re related to the very people who accused you of murdering two boys?”

“Well, it’s a complicated situation.”

“Indeed it is,” he agreed. “And you know what’s even more complicated than your complicated situation?” He paused to check my reaction. “Figuring out what to do with you if you’re found guilty of murder. We can’t keep you here, and the mainland’s out of the question.”

Music to my ears.

For the first – and possibly only – time, I thanked the stars they believe in this deadly fog crap. But, then again, they might just go crazy and burn me at the stake or something.

When I didn’t say or snap anything to contradict him, he went on, “If you are related to them, where exactly did you come from?”

Piper Vinsant. My mum was Piper Vinsant. Sister of Lilith, daughter of Genevieve, aunt of Freya, Branka and Aillard. As much as I wanted to shout it out, I decided against it. He likely wouldn’t believe me, wouldn’t remember her – much like everyone else.

“Oh, you’ve lost your tongue now, eh?” The Captain gathered the paperwork and got up from his chair. The entire structure popped up once freed from under his weight. He waited in case I might reply, then rounded his desk and waddled to the office door. “You wait right here while I ring Vinsant Estate to confirm your so-called identity. Don’t touch anything.”

My stomach folded in on itself. Call Vinsant Estate? Great. He might as well handcuff me now.

“Still nothing to say?” he asked. I pretended to stare out the window, to think deeply about it all. “Alright, then.” He turned and opened the door, only to hop back with fright.

I only realised something was happening when the door didn’t click shut behind him. When I turned to see what the holdup was, I immediately regretted it. There, in the door, stood a witch of a woman. In all-black attire, her hair bundled on her head, and her eyebrows carved as sharply as her jaw. She had a guy next to her, baby-eyed and dressed in all-leather.

Lilith and Aillard. Two harbourers of death, here to hammer the final few nails in my coffin.

“Mrs. Vinsant,” the Chief Constable stuttered, his arrogance gone. He stepped aside and gestured the pair inside. I relished seeing him squirm, tremble. “W – What are you doing here?”

Lilith scanned the office, dark, musty and with stacks of forms all over the desk and floor. Then, she clasped her hands together and raised her chin. It glinted in the light from outside, showcasing her close-to-porcelain skin. “We’re here to take the girl with us. To the estate.”

“What?” I exclaimed, rising.

Lilith barely glanced in my direction. “As she’s claiming to be a Vinsant, the family would like to take matters into their own hands. I’m sure you understand, Constable, don’t you?”

By the blank look on the Chief Constable’s face, I thought he might burst into laughter again, maybe correct her for addressing him by the wrong title. Only he did no such thing. Instead, he adjusted his tie and put the paperwork under his arm. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

“Come on! You can’t be serious?” I charged at the Chief Constable, my nostrils flaring. “She doesn’t have the authority to do this. You’re not allowed to let me go without bail!”

“Gmf,” muttered Aillard. “Sounds like someone’s had a run-in with the law before.”

“Oh, shut up!” I snapped at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. I might’ve had a mild case of sticky fingers when I was fourteen. “Constable, they’ll get rid of me. I know too much ...”

“It’s Chief Constable –” he started to correct me, but Lilith spoke over him.

“Kill you?” She placed a hand on her chest, seemingly shocked. I could tell she wasn’t. Indeed, quite the opposite. “My poor old heart would never survive it. Right, my dear boy?”

Aillard shook his head. “Couldn’t hurt a fly.”

The sight of them, manipulating the Chief Constable like this, angered me to such an extent, I wanted to scream. Instead, I crunched on my teeth, trying to convince myself to act cool.

After all, going with them meant I got to leave here. And I got to check out the mansion again.

Locate more of my mum’s photographs.

“Fine,” I yielded, much to Lilith and Aillard’s delight. Even the Chief Constable seemed relieved.

“Great,” said Lilith with as much of a smile as she could manage. “Not that you had a choice, but it’s good that you comply. Let’s get going, you two. The family is waiting for us as home.”

Chief Constable Salameh, still with little expression, opened the office door and allowed us to leave. His eyes – now almonds again – followed me as I passed, a hesitance to his stance. I briefly thought he might reconsider, but then Lilith spoke and his hesitance vanished.

“Thank you, Constable,” she hummed. “If the boys are still alive, I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

A pause.

“And, if not” – she glanced askance at me – “we’ll bring the girl back to be locked behind bars.”