She’d gotten back from Toronto two days ago, late in the evening, and took a sick day yesterday, claiming she must have eaten something bad on the road.But the truth was, she’d gone to bed fighting the urge to drink, and battling another monstrous panic attack.She’d called her sponsor around midnight and then her therapist for an emergency appointment at nine in the morning, even though she didn’t need her therapist’s analysis to understand why this was happening.Stevens asking about her past, having to deal with the Millgate Cemetery, all this talk of women’s prisons—it was all as good as a sharp shovel for dredging up the shit she’s been trying for years to keep contained.
She’s doing better today, though, after a day of talk therapy, sleep, and gardening until her nail beds bled.Because the world doesn’t stop for anyone’s mental health; all you can really do is push forward until you push through, and if all else fails, fake it.To the extent that there’s leeway for any cop to admit they’re struggling, there’s even less for woman officers.As is always the case, the women are held to a higher standard.Any show of emotional instability can get you put on the desk and ridiculed until you give up and quit.Rachel’s seen it before.
At a hard knock on her office door, she turns, and Stevens pokes his head in.He’s polite about it, doesn’t just barge in like all her other coworkers do.She’s starting to really like him.
“Hey Stevens,” she says, “Come on in.I’ve got updates.”
She fills him in on her findings in Toronto, what she gathered at Cartwright-Cambridge Co.and the archives.He nods, takes his own notes without her having to suggest it.He’s learning fast.
“Okay,” he says, brow furrowing at the corkboard.“So where do we start?”
“Where doyouthink we should start?”Rachel prompts him.
He smiles genially.“Death certificates for the three deceased, for sure, and see if we can locate any for the two that are unaccounted for, in case the deaths just weren’t recorded properly at the prison.”
Rachel nods.
“Then maybe cross-reference to see if there’s any connection to Millgate?”
“Very good.As for the other two that are unaccounted for, that gets trickier.”She sighs.“My first thought is some sort of administrative gap, if they were in fact discharged but the records weren’t updated.Or maybe they were transferred to another prison?Other names on those registers stated when someone was transferred, but…” She shrugs.“As we know, records are never perfect, because humans aren’t either.”
“Yeah,” Stevens agrees, shifting in his seat.“But…I guess human imperfection is kind of why we have jobs, right?”
Rachel watches him, a little puzzled.“Uh, yeah, that’s true.”
“Because people make mistakes.Sometimes big ones.Right?”
They meet eyes over the desk, and Stevens blinks first.“Listen, Mackenzie—”
She lets out a little hiss of frustration.“Who have you been talking to?”She asks it directly.There’s no point being coy.“Did your uncle actually tell you my story, or have you just been playing me?”
“No, he didn’t, I swear.”Stevens raises his hands in surrender.“I’m sorry, it’s just, one of the guys said—”
“Ofcourse‘one of the guys said,’ ” Rachel snaps, fighting the clutch of anxiety in the centre of her chest.Thisis the problem with staying in this area after everything that happened with her family.Except her work is here, and she can’t sell Dora’s house for all kinds of reasons, both practical and emotional.She glares at Stevens, but then realizes this isn’t his fault.People talk about her and her family.She’s known that since she was a kid.But if his uncle Tom truly hasn’t spilled the beans on her yet, she’d rather Stevens get the facts from her instead of some butchered or doctored version from one of her colleagues.She doesn’t like telling thisstory, but Stevens is her junior.They need to trust each other if they’re going to be partners.
“All right,” she says.“Get your keys.I’m not talking about it here.”
SUMMER, 1987
It was four hours into their visit, and Rachel still couldn’t quite figure out why Mary and her new fiancé had come.
They were too old for any traditional foolishness like Kevin asking Dora for Mary’s hand in marriage.This would be his second, and he had two kids from the previous one.They were younger, Mary said, twelve and fifteen.If Rachel had much patience or empathy left, she would have felt glad for her mother.But Mary’s behaviour—some chosen, some a result of her illness—made it difficult to feel much joy on her behalf when she’d stolen so much from Rachel and Dora over the years.
Kevin and Mary had arrived in Bayfield a little after three in the afternoon, this time with advance warning—an actualplan.They rolled up behind Rachel’s dusty red Dodge in some sleek, black, expensive-looking foreign car that screamedmoney.It was bizarre, and more than a little suspicious, to see Mary step out of it looking clean and preppy in khaki shorts and a pink polo shirt, her usually brassy locks dyed a salon-quality sandy brown.She looked unrecognizable, like she was on her way to a golf course.
Mary had offered to help Dora with dinner, and told Rachel to give Kevin a tour of the yard.
Hesitant in her cloud of confusion, Rachel gave him a cursory walkabout of Dora’s gardens before he asked her if they could go talk on the old iron bench beneath the big maple beside the house.He sat, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.He offered her one, which Rachel declined.
“Thanks for showing me around,” he said politely, flicking open a monogrammed silver Zippo lighter with a softclink.Mary usually got the colourful plastic ones they sold at the corner store.“The truth is,Rachel, I told your mother I wanted to talk to you for a minute.I hope you don’t mind.”
Rachel watched him.He was handsome, tall and blond-haired, and he smelled like expensive cologne.Not at all her mother’s usual type.
“I’ll get right to the point,” he said.“I know things haven’t always been easy between you and your mom.”
Rachel had been wondering how much he knew.Dora had already pressed Mary on that, during her last visit two years ago when they had learned of his existence.Frankly, Rachel was amazed he’d stuck around this long.Though knowing Mary, she’d probably kept plenty from him, partly because she was a compulsive liar, and because she really did seem to want a fresh start.She was always searching for them in the wrong places, but Rachel wondered if this time she might have actually found a real opportunity for a clean slate.
Rachel swallowed, looked straight ahead, out over the cliff.“Yeah.It’s been tough sometimes.”She hesitated as all the realities and omissions flashed through her mind.It wasn’t tough, it was a fucking disaster.“Can I ask what she’s told you?”
