Free Little Black Lies by Sharon Bolton

Ned and Kit were alive. As it is, I care so little I can’t even take what Callum is saying seriously. He’s right. What has happened to me?
    *   *   *
    We travel on, Callum resumes his seat, I stare at the sea. Some time later, when we’re still a little way from the Endeavour, I jump when he taps me on the shoulder. He’s looking out of the wheelhouse window towards land. On the beach and stretching back miles into camp, small fires have been lit. They dot the countryside like fireflies. I slow the boat almost to a halt.
    We stand side by side for several minutes, letting the boat find its own course, watching the orange beacons sprinkled across the hillside like fairy dust. Then Callum unzips his jacket. ‘I’ll take the wheel.’ He steps to the helm. ‘You need to look at something.’
    As we move again, faster than I would go given the size of the sea, I take the folded papers he’s holding out to me and then his seat on the side bench. It’s still warm from his body. He’s handed me three sheets of A4. It’s a spreadsheet, a list of names.
    â€˜What’s this?’ I know most of these people. I see Rob and Jan Duncan, Rachel’s parents. Simon Savidge. My colleague, Brian. The Governor.
    Callum pushes the throttle further and the boat starts to ride the waves. ‘These are the people who were at the Sports Day on West Falkland when Fred vanished and at Surf Bay when Jimmy did.’
    I flick through to the second page, and the third. ‘Seventy-five in total.’
    â€˜There were more. I took out those aged under sixteen and the elderly ladies.’
    I make a point of raising my eyebrows as a wave crashes over the bow but he doesn’t take the hint. ‘And the ones in bold?’
    â€˜Men, between the ages of sixteen and seventy-five. Able-bodied. Forty-one prime suspects.’
    â€˜Mel’s on this list. You think because he’s gay he has to be a child molester?’
    â€˜I’m on it too. So is the frigging Governor. Those names marked with an asterisk have a boat, although to be fair, most people here have access to one.’
    â€˜How did you pull this together?’
    â€˜I started with those I could remember, then looked at the sports teams I knew had taken part. It’s easy to get hold of team sheets. I asked other people who they could remember. Skye McNair helped a bit. Unofficially.’
    â€˜Has Bob Stopford seen it?’
    He makes an exasperated movement and the speed increases again. ‘Course he bloody has. Trouble is, he’s not listening. I’m an incomer. I don’t understand island ways. I’m judging what happens here by the standards of Glasgow’s sink estates. He used those exact words.’
    We’re going recklessly fast. A big wave now could swamp the wheelhouse. ‘What do you want Stopford to do?’
    â€˜Go through this list and find out where each person was when Archie disappeared. If they can’t account for themselves, he should search their properties. He won’t do that, though, because then he has to admit that I’m right.’
    â€˜Why should that be such a big deal?’ I stand and gesture that I’m ready to take the wheel back. ‘I’m not saying you are right, but if you are, why would it be such a problem for Stopford?’
    We swap places again. Callum tucks the spreadsheet away but doesn’t sit down. He stands behind me, holding on to the roof beam for balance.
    â€˜Wouldn’t he want the challenge of working on a big case?’ I ease back on the throttle, but gently. He notices, though. He misses nothing.
    â€˜It won’t be just about him, though, will it? The Governor, the Legislative Assembly, the Foreign Office, hell, probably the entire British Government, all have an interest in keeping this place under the radar screen. If you start making a nuisance of yourselves, if you put your