THE HARBOUR

The Devil All The Time

She called him countless times, and his phone went to voicemail each time. She left him a myriad of messages, many of them being incomprehensible keyboard smashes and panicked voice messages. Frustrated with the lack of response from him and with the train wreck of a morning she was having, she decided to go for a jog to clear her head. Running, walking, and any sort of movement that required keeping her limbs busy always seemed to calm her. She focused on the sound of her feet crashing against the pavement to try to manage her frustration—she was unsuccessful in the matter.

What could be more important than a phone call from her? She gritted her teeth. Surely he understands their predicament; she should be the one person he prioritises communicating with—no, that's not fair. She's the reason they're in this mess to begin with, and Cole has a life of his own. She can't possibly expect him to stop everything on her command. That isn't fair, she mentally reprimands herself. But what could he be doing? She quickens her pace. Lena, she thinks. Their wedding is coming up soon; they might be doing something wedding-related. Still, she doesn't see why he wouldn't be able to answer her calls to let her know he was occupied. He could be at work. Cole always got in really intense moods when he worked. She visited him once before and never again when he let her sit in his office by herself for hours, barely paying her any mind. She could've waved a gun in his face, and he wouldn't have noticed. He could be doing that now, she pants—focusing with admirable intensity.

Perhaps she should swing by and check, just in case. It would annoy him, but it would also put her at ease to see he was actively doing something to help her and not ignoring her calls on purpose. Talk to Lena, an internal voice chimes. Yes, she should speak to her. If Alice and Detective Bateman want to question her again, it would be smart to have a lawyer present. Lena is an excellent lawyer—not to mention Alice's sister. That ought to throw her off. Daisy smiles and slows down as she turns; she's almost at the harbour docks. She exhales fiercely with every long stride.

As she approaches the docks, her pace quickens, and she lets out a sigh without realising it. The view is beautiful, with yachts and speedboats neatly lined up in perfect order, each one more luxurious than the last. It's still early on a Monday, and typically people come here in the afternoon or evening to watch the sunset. The ocean looks even more stunning once the yachts and speedboats have cleared out, leaving the water bare. Watching the reflection of the setting sun rhythmically dancing on the water's surface is almost too beautiful to believe. She stops at the railing at the edge of the boardwalk and gazes at the bright blue waters. Despite the potential challenges she may face later on, in this moment she feels a sense of calm.

Daisy sighs calmly and leans on the railing, placing her head in her hands. She is lost in a thought when the sound of crying violently draws her back to reality. With a hint of irritation, she scans the area for the source of the noise. She spots a young child no more than six years old. The sound of the child's wailing renders her unable to think clearly; she grinds her teeth in anger.

She clenches her fists as a familiar sense of detachment creeps into her consciousness like a cold fog, and she unconsciously begins to wrestle what she understands is someone besides herself for control. The world around her spins, and every sound muffles like she's underwater. Her vision narrows in on the child—knowing something terrible is inevitably going to happen, she stands eerily still, attempting to maintain control of her faculties—but it's no use. Her eyes flutter shut, and with a sharp exhale, a new pair of eyes snap open.

"Hey, what is it?" She asks. "Why are you crying? Did you lose your mommy?"

"No, i-it's," the little boy stutters between sobs—unable to speak, he points to the water. She kneels, inclining her body forward so she's able to look straight into the water—she spots a stuffed bear bobbing in the water, caught in fishing reins.

"Oh," she says, "do you want me to get it for you?"

"Uh-uh," the little boy nods rapidly.

"Alright, I'll do it, but you'll have to close your eyes. I'm going to be using my superpowers to get it. I can't let you know my secrets," she says, chuckling. "Is that ok?" The little boy smiles and closes his eyes in response.

"Keep them closed, ok?"

————-

Jamie sits in her favourite window-seat spot at a café by the docks, drinking her mocha and watching the seagulls land on the water timidly before flying off, scared away by the unpredictable waves. She watches quietly as people jog along the boardwalk and as fishermen ready their boats. Mondays aren't as busy as most days, especially not at six in the morning, and today's especially foggy.

It's almost time for her to leave for school. It's only been a day since she and Wendy discovered the dead man; she is still beside her and can't come to terms with the fact that there's a killer on the loose in Caper. Things like homicide don't happen here. At least not in her part of town. This one hit too close to home.

She's told the police all she knew, and she hopes it'll be enough to catch whoever did it. The detectives haven't followed up on their questioning. She suspects there's much else to do, other people to question. She's glad of it; talking to Detective Bateman and attractive statue Pines makes her nervous, and the questions make her feel like she's committed a gruesome crime herself.

What if they somehow find out about Adam? She thinks, not that it would matter to her or to Wendy, he'd just go to jail. Like he should, but if her father found out, he wouldn't be pleased. She winces at the thought of what her father would do. Luke will be going back to Boulder soon; his school break is almost over, and there'll be no one to intimidate her father. She shakes the thought out of her head and forces herself out of the comfortable seat, dragging herself out of the café.

She stands outside the café—at the entrance holding her mocha—mindlessly staring off in the direction of the steadily rising sun when she notices a struggle by the boardwalk.

It's a woman and... a little kid? What are they doing? She thinks. Is she hugging him? If she is, he doesn't look like he wants to be hugged. A mother and her kid, most likely. The little guy probably doesn't want to go to school. Makes two of us.

What is that wrapped around him? She stares at the pair, trying to understand the situation. The struggle goes on for a little while, then quickly stops. Jamie decides she isn't interested in the interaction anymore. She turns sideways and walks towards the bin three meters away from the café doors.

She continues to walk towards the bin when she sees it in her peripheral vision.

She freezes—gripping the coffee cup so tightly the contents spill onto her palms. Her heart rate speeds up, and her breathing escalates—the woman, she tossed the little boy into the water...right? She stands frozen, unsure of what she saw—tears welling up in her eyes.

She decides to go over there and help the little boy; she half-steps in the direction of the boardwalk when the woman gets up and looks around. It's then that Jamie recognises the woman, she throws her hands to her mouth as if to hold in a scream.

Dropping her coffee cup in the process and attracting the attention of the woman, who looks her dead in the eyes. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before she smirks and continues her jog like nothing happened.

Jamie rushes back into the café and throws herself into an empty booth, covering her eyes. She wants to scream, to cry, to run away. That woman, she knows who it is; she'd recognise her anywhere—but why, why would she do such a horrible thing and smile as if she were proud of what she'd done? Jamie shuts her eyes hard—trembling with fear and adrenaline.