Free Cast into Doubt by Patricia MacDonald

nothing fair about any of this. My world is in pieces.’ On that last word, his voice broke.
    Shelby began to weep openly. ‘I shouldn’t have blamed you, Rob.’
    ‘I blame myself,’ he said. ‘I didn’t keep her safe. I feel like it is my fault.’
    ‘Oh God. And Jeremy.’
    ‘I know,’ he said.
    Shelby shook her head. ‘Maybe tomorrow something will happen,’ she said hopelessly.
    ‘I’ll knock on your door in the morning and we’ll go back to the police station.’
    ‘If you hear anything during the night . . .’
    ‘Of course,’ he said.
    ‘I feel so helpless,’ she said.
    ‘We are helpless.’
    Their bruised gazes met for a moment. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said.
    She closed the door behind him, and heard his footsteps in the hallway, the sound of him opening the door of his room. She locked her door and went back out to the balcony. She sat back down and stared into the night. In the street below she could hear a young girl singing as she went by on the street. Lighthearted. Untroubled. Her song wafted up through the palm tree fronds.
    Shelby buried her face in her hands. Tears seeped through her fingers and dripped from her chin. As the singer disappeared down the street, the sound of her voice became muffled, and then, little by little, it drifted away.

SEVEN
    T he next morning they arrived at the police station early and found Chief Giroux deep in conversation with Agent DeWitt. As Shelby and Rob entered the large common room where half a dozen officers were working, chatting, and drinking tea, the room fell silent. Everyone stared at them for a moment, and then resumed their work in a quieter fashion.
    ‘How was the Maison?’ Chief Giroux asked. ‘Did Christophe make you comfortable?’
    ‘Yes, thank you,’ Shelby said dully.
    ‘He runs a very nice place. My father and Christophe’s father came here from Martinique when they were young men. Our mothers are sisters. So, we are more like brothers than cousins,’ he said.
    Shelby and Rob did not reply. The only family they could think about was their own.
    The Chief did not bother to ask them how they had slept. It was obvious from their rumpled clothes and the blue circles under their puffy, reddened eyes, that the night had been long and grim. ‘We have a few things we need to discuss with you,’ he said.
    ‘If you both would come with us,’ said Agent DeWitt.
    Chief Giroux indicated one of the open interrogation rooms and they all filed in. Agent DeWitt closed the door. On a table at the front of the room was a computer monitor, humming, but blank. Chief Giroux offered them all a seat. Rob refused. Shelby took it gratefully. Chief Giroux’s dark skin made his shirt look almost blindingly white. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke to them gently but firmly. ‘First of all, Mr Kendricks, Mrs Sloan, It’s my sad duty to tell you that the search for Chloe is no longer a rescue mission. The Coast Guard has suspended all operations . . .’
    ‘Oh no,’ Rob groaned.
    ‘What?’ Shelby cried.
    The Chief continued speaking as if they had not spoken. ‘Now, it’s officially considered a recovery mission. We don’t need the Coast Guard for that. That can be carried out by the local police.’
    Shelby stared at him through eyes grainy from weeping. ‘What does that mean?’
    Agent DeWitt toyed with the end of his tie. ‘Simply put, it means that we no longer have the expectation that your daughter can still be alive. We base this on all our knowledge of the sea, the body’s susceptibility to hypothermia, the ocean predators. In fact, there was little chance that she was alive when she went into the water after a fall like that. But by now, the chances are . . . negligible really.’
    ‘No,’ Shelby protested. ‘You can’t just give up.’
    Chief Giroux sighed. ‘Mrs Sloan. I know it’s terribly difficult, but you must understand that your daughter is not going to be found alive. She probably