Page 91

Story: The Memory Wood

Behind the detectives, Mama folds her arms. ‘You can’t trust her, Elijah. She’s trying to flatter you, that’s all. She doesn’t want the truth. She just wants to lock you up.’
‘Kyle? Are you OK?’ MacCullagh asks. ‘Do you need anything? Some water, perhaps?’
‘Yes, please. That would be nice.’
She nods at her colleague, who gives me a steady look and rises from his seat. Mama sidesteps to allow him out. He returns with a plastic cup of water, which he puts down in front of me.
MacCullagh waits a while, until she realizes I’m not going to drink. ‘Kyle, when we met you at the house, I asked about Elissa’s whereabouts and you said, “She’s gone.” Do you remember saying that?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Mama glances up at the ceiling cameras.
I flinch. ‘I mean … did I?’
‘Do you remember saying it?’
MacCullagh’s voice is so hypnotic, so measured and calm. How nice it would be to hear her reading stories before bed. I might have the best mama in the world, but she’s rarely around at night. I wonder if this detective has kids. Lucky for them if she does.
‘Kyle? Do you remember saying it?’
‘Not really.’
Her forehead creases a little. ‘A moment ago you said you did.’
‘I was …’ I look up at Mama, who nods. ‘I was confused.’
MacCullagh glances over her shoulder, then back at me. I find myself wondering: could these two women ever become friends?
‘Listen, Kyle,’ the detective says. ‘I know this must seem overwhelming. It’s a unique situation – for you, for everyone involved. But I’d like you to think about something, if you can. Right now, this very minute, there are people out there – people like Elissa’s mum, Elissa’s grandparents – who are hurting. They’re hurting very badly indeed. They’ve been separated from someone they care deeply about, someone they love very much, and they desperately want to know what’s happened to her. I’m hoping you can help them, Kyle. I’m hoping that you and me, working together, can find a way to ease their suffering.’
I think of the deer my brother shot and the calamity inside its head. I wonder what memories and dreams wouldbe lost if the detective’s brains, grey and glistening, were plastered across the earth.
‘Kyle?’ Her mouth relaxes, her lips easing apart.
Good to have this woman as a mother. Even better to have her as a wife. The wedding ring on her finger is evidence of a husband. I wonder how often he kisses those lips. All the time, probably. I would.
‘Elijah,’ Mama warns. ‘Remember what—’
‘I want to help them,’ I say. ‘I want to help you too. But I’m scared. This is … frightening for me.’
MacCullagh nods. She rubs her left arm, as if beneath her blouse her skin has puckered into goosebumps. ‘I understand why you’d feel like that. This is a serious situation. A frightening situation. Like I said earlier, I’m not here to judge. I just want to find out the truth and resolve this in the best way possible.’ She pauses a beat. ‘Do you know where Elissa is?’
‘You mean her body?’ I ask. ‘Or her spirit?’
The detective blinks twice in quick succession. Her tongue flickers out, just the tip. Seeing it reminds me of the serpent from Genesis. God punished the serpent for its trickery, making it crawl on its belly all its days. I wonder if MacCullagh has studied her Bible recently. I wonder if she’s studied it at all.
‘Kyle,’ she says carefully. ‘Is Elissa Mirzoyan dead?’
The answer to that is pretty obvious andI’mnot even a detective. Still, Mama warned me to go carefully here. The brief glimpse of MacCullagh’s tongue has reinforced the danger. ‘I couldn’t say.’
‘You couldn’t?’
I shake my head.
‘Do you know what happened to her?’
‘No.’