In The Darkest Depths

09. I've Lost Myself

'Click.'

The red light comes on the tape recorder, flashing at me as if to let me know that nothing I say here is private. I can still hear my mum shouting in the waiting room, demanding to be let in.

But since I'm eighteen, I don't need an adult present while I'm being interrogated by the police. The man who introduced himself as Detective Foster tells me to state my name and address for the record and I oblige, stumbling over the words as I do so.

"How did you know Rhea Carmichael?" The detective looks like he hasn't shaved his face in over a month. His beard is scruffy and streaks of grey peek through the black, like salt and pepper. I almost want to offer him a razor.

"She is," I stop myself, "was one of my best friends." A police officer that stands in the corner frowns at me, as if I have just given them false information.

"I need you to tell me, in your own words, what happened on the night of the twenty first."

The statement itself seems ridiculous to me. Who else's words would I use, if not my own?

"We went to a party at the lake house-," but I'm cut off.

"Whose we?"

I decide that I don't like Detective Foster. He's rude and overbearing. I understand that he's just trying to do his job, but something about him rubs me the wrong way.

"Me, Saige and," saying her name is hard, "Rhea."

"Saige Lancaster?" he questions. I nod but immediately regret it. I don't want him bringing Saige into this dingy little room.

"We had all gotten ready together. When we got there Saige went straight to look for her boyfriend, Brennan. Carmichael," I add for clarification. "And Rhea and I went to get drinks. But I found it too hard to be there-,"

"Why?" he grunts.

There's no heartbeat.

For a moment I'm lost in the past, fighting to stay in the present. I don't want to answer that. I shouldn't have to. It has nothing to do with what happened to Rhea.

Luckily, I am saved by the police officer who leans over and whispers something into the Detective's ear. His eyes glaze over in understanding and he gestures for me to continue.

"So I went outside. Carter found me there and stayed with me. But then, a girl screamed." I shudder, remembering the flashbacks that the noise had caused. "And it was just too much. Carter took me home."

"What time was that?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe ten? Or even earlier?"

"And what did you do then?"

I think of the car, of Carter's hand on my leg. Of the way he comforted me in the confined space. Of the way I still felt like I had blood on my hands when I went to bed that night.

"I had a shower and went to bed."

"Can you confirm that? Are there any witnesses?"

"Carter watched me walk into my house, but my parents were already sleeping so I guess not."

"Audrey, how did you know where Rhea's body was?" It's a question I knew was coming. I'm pretty sure all the ones before were just a lead up to this one. It's the real reason I'm here.

I wish I could explain myself but I can't. Even if I tell him the truth, he won't believe me. Or worse, think I'm crazy. I rack my brain to try and think of an answer that could possibly make sense.

"Her phone." My voice is hoarse, the lie getting caught in my throat. "We found it right by the lake. She's hardly ever without it. But if she went for a late night swim or something, then she would have left it there."

"Audrey, Rhea Carmichael didn't choose to go in the water, she was forced. Her death is not being investigated as an accident."

I keep quiet, not sure on how he wants me to respond. He seems to take my silence for confusion as he speaks again.

"It was a murder."

The relief I feel at seeing Carter waiting for me inside the cafe is palpable.

After the day I've had, the sight of him is a balm to my soul. I watch him for a few seconds as he taps his fingers against the table and checks the time on his watch. And then, he looks up at me, his mouth quirking up into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

The comforting smell of coffee wraps itself around me as soon as I push open the glass doors. Carter stands up and strides over, pulling me straight into a hug.

"I've been so worried! What happened?"

"I think I'm a suspect in Rhea's murder investigation." I sit down at the table he recently vacated and he pulls up his chair across from me.

"They think she was murdered?"

I nod once, still trying to get my head around the fact that Rhea is gone, let alone 'murdered'. My parents had bickered the whole drive home on whether we should hire a lawyer or not. "Apparently, knowing where her body was makes me look as guilty as sin."

"How did you know where it was?"

Just above Carter's head is a flickering light, the bulb in desperate need of a replacement. His question doesn't come out as an accusation, the way that Detective Fosters had. I had been so desperate to tell him earlier, but now I find myself reluctant. I'm sure that when I do, he will probably think I'm crazy.

"I had a dream. I saw her die. In the lake. She drowned."

He is silent for so long that I start to regret my decision to tell him. His face flickers with an emotion I can't quite name. I almost jump in shock when his hand reaches out to cover mine.

"I believe you."

His words rush over me, filling me with warmth like a favourite blanket in winter. I want him to say them again, just so I can commit the way they sound to memory.

But, at the same time, it feels strange that he does. It's odd that he has suddenly been paying so much attention to me when the lines of our friendship had been drawn so long ago. I've liked him for so long that I never thought to question when they had been erased.

"Why?" I can't help but ask, although I'm not sure I want the answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you believe me? Why do you care?"

"Has it never occurred to you," he laces his fingers through mine, "that maybe I always have?"