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‘I’ll call her back. Priority right now is to squeeze Kyle North for everything we can before he goes mute.’
Kyle
I
I’ve never felt this alone. The world has never seemed so bleak.
Whatever mistakes I’ve made in life – and God knows I’ve made plenty – Mama has never abandoned me. But in the interview room, just when I needed her most, she upped and walked away. I’ve done bad things – terrible things – yet Mama has always understood. And although she hasn’t always praised my choices, she’s never punished me too harshly.
Two male officers lead me back to my cell. When I attempt conversation, the taller one shoves me in the back. Feet tangling together, I fly through the cell doorway. My knees strike the floor with a sound like two gunshots. The pain is stunning. I’m so busy thrashing around that I’m only half aware of the door crashing shut.
They hate me. All of them.
Earlier I tried to help, telling Detective Superintendent MacCullagh all I could, but it made no difference; she looked at me just like the others; just like the one who thumped me in the police van.
I didn’t answer all the detective’s questions, but there’s no way that I could. Often, in that interview room, I felt the wallinside my head threatening to topple. If it does, everything will be lost. I have a duty to Bryony and to Gretel – to keep them alive through my memories. Like the knucklebones from the lake, I’ve elected myself their Rememberer-in-Chief. If I let the wall fail, if I throw myself away, it’ll be as if they never existed. Their families will remember them. But they didn’t know them like I did. They weren’t there at the end.
‘So you admit it, then?’ rasps a voice.
My back spasms as I twist about. Across the cell, hanging over the bunk, I see two filthy legs, a pair of scuffed leather shoes and the torn hem of a bottle-green dress.
II
I kick out in panic, propelling myself back towards the door. She can’t be in here. She can’t. And yet when I angle my head, there she is.
Gretel’s face looks like a piece of steak left too long on a barbecue, cracked and burnt and black. Her hair is gone, along with her ears and most of her nose. Clear fluid seeps from the fissures in her flesh.
Only her eyes have been spared. They stare with dreadful intensity, two baleful emeralds that have soaked up all the inferno’s heat. ‘Look at me, Elijah,’ she whispers.
I scrunch up my eyes, turn my face to the floor.
‘Lookat me.’
When I summon the courage, I’m surprised to see that Gretel’s burns have somehow faded, leaving her grimy and greasy but mercifully untouched by fire. At first, it’s too incredible to behold, until I realize she’s not really here, and that most things are possible when you have an overactive imagination.
‘Oh, I’m here, Elijah,’ she says, lifting her arm and tapping her skull. ‘Up here, remember? You have a duty. That’s what you believe, isn’t it? A duty to keep me alive, in your memories.’
‘I … I never meant to—’
‘You think I’m going to go quietly?’ she hisses. ‘You think I’m just going toacceptthis?’ Gretel narrows her eyes, focusing the full power of her gaze. ‘Isn’t it about time you started telling the truth?’
I’m shivering now, unable to control myself. ‘The truth?’
Hands tightening into fists, Gretel slides off the bunk. Her face twists into a leer. ‘“And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”’
I hug myself.
‘You recognize those words, Elijah?’
‘John, chapter eight,’ I say. ‘Verse thirty-two. But why—’
‘Do you believe them?’
‘Yes, of course, but—’
‘Then stop lying, and tell the truth.’
‘I didn’t kill you. I didn’t.’