Chapter Text
The fog hung like a curtain along the beach, blocking the ocean from view. Jessie hadn’t seen fog this thick since last year, the day she’d moved to Pelican Town. The bus traveled through a dim haze as it crossed Stardew Valley that day, headlights casting a glow that barely illuminated the road. Her decision to drop everything and move to her grandfather’s farm was already so rash she had a hard time believing it was actually happening. The impossibly thick fog made her feel even more unreal, looking out the window at a blank white wall where the landscape should be.
“Hey there! Jessie?” A low brogue sounded, coming from the direction of a dark figure along the beach.
“Willy!” she called back, snapping back to the present. The grizzled old fisherman had been giving her fishing lessons, and he was so pleased that a young person was interested in learning his craft. They’d meet just after dawn on Sunday mornings, each with a thermos of coffee in hand.
“Fog’s thicker than spoilt milk this morning,” Willy grumbled, joining her. He pulled a small bottle from his jacket. “Spot of brandy?”
Jessie smiled. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Ah, you’re always so good. Well, let’s head down to the dock.” Willy led the way, fishing basket and a set of poles in hand. Jessie was eager to improve her fishing skills, just another aspect of life in the Valley that she had wholeheartedly embraced. It had been just over a year since she’d moved to Pelican Town, but her old life in the City felt like it was eons ago. She’d truly settled in - worked the neglected grounds into a thriving farm, enough to afford to have the farmhouse expanded, to buy a coop and some chickens. The town carpenter was working on a barn, now, and Jessie was planning to buy four baby goats when it was done. She wanted to start making cheese this year, and goat cheese was her girlfriend’s favorite.
Jessie hadn’t expected to find a romantic relationship so soon after moving to Pelican Town, but she clicked with her closest neighbor, Leah, right away. By her first summer, they had discovered the spark between them, and by fall they were swapping nights spent at the farmhouse or Leah’s cabin and making all the usual lesbian jokes about bringing a moving van to the second date.
Willy unpacked his gear at the end of the dock, and Jessie began to set up her fishing pole, tying the lure with the knots he’d taught her. “Nice work, lassie,” he noted, watching her deft fingers. “You’ve got the knots and gear down. Now we’ve just got to work on catching the fish.” He scanned the water and looked up to the sky. “Cloudy is good for fishing,” he explained, “as the sun starts to break the fog, it’ll spook the fish. Now, try to cast out as far as you can, and jig the rod a bit, tempt those fish to go for a wee breakfast.”
Jessie nodded and took her rod to the opposite side of the dock. She followed Willy’s instructions exactly, but there was an instinctual part of fishing that she hadn’t quite caught on to yet. She was always too fast or too slow, missing the strikes or losing the fish while she reeled in. She did want to get better at fishing, but there were other draws to Willy’s morning lessons: the impossible peace of the dawn calm as the sun rose over the ocean, listening to the gentle lapping of the water against the dock as she was alone with her own thoughts, or sometimes Willy would tell her stories, tall tales of his maritime adventures and the faraway lands he’d passed through.
She cast her line out, watching the lure splash into the still water, and squinted her eyes. There was something floating on the water, drifting in the gentle waves. Was it a dead fish, maybe? No, it was too shapeless. Maybe something that fell off a boat, or some kind of garbage - there was so much trash in the water here. As the thing drifted closer, she realized how large it was. It was plastic, she thought, like something wrapped up in something -
“Willy!” Jessie shouted, dropping her rod. The fisherman whipped around, grabbing her shoulders as they stared at the floating mass.
“Oh, Yoba,” he murmured. “Grab my net, girl!”
She snapped into action, moving without thinking, holding the pole and following Willy’s commands to help him guide the mass towards the dock, as she steadily realized what was floating in front of them.
“Yoba save us all,” Willy was repeating, “Yoba save us.”
Jessie felt her stomach turn as the perception became unmistakable - she saw hair, blonde hair, and flesh, all encased in folds of plastic, and before she could really understand what was happening, she was helping Willy fish it out of the water, heaving at the weight, panting, trying not to scream as he repeated what sounded like a prayer and the sound, the thud of the full weight of a human body and the resistance of water as they dragged it on the dock.
“Yoba, it’s Haley,” Willy whispered.
Jessie leaned over the dock and retched.
“C’mon, girl, let’s get you out of here. Let’s go get Lewis.” Willy wrapped his arms around her, helped her to standing, supporting her as she took a shaky step towards shore. He pulled the bottle out of his jacket again and took a long swig as they walked, then held the bottle out to Jessie. This time, she accepted without hesitation.
It was still so early in the morning, not yet 7 when they reached town. Willy paused, looking at Jessie’s hunched form. “You should go home,” he said. “I can take it from here. Can you make it home? Is there someone we can call?”
She was pale, eyes wide, running a hand through her close-cropped dark hair. “I’ll be okay,” she said quietly, “Farmhouse doesn’t have a phone, neither does Leah.”
Willy nodded. “You’re a strong girl,” he said, holding out the brandy bottle again. “I’ll send someone to check on you, okay? Take care.”
Jessie took another sip, liquor burning her throat and fogging her brain. She’d barely even had coffee yet. The morning felt like a horrible dream. Yes, she needed to go home, she needed to climb back in her warm bed next to Leah and maybe when she woke again it would have all been a nightmare.
Willy watched her walk slowly out of view, feeling a pang of guilt for his role - no matter how accidental - in exposing her to this awful situation. Not that he wasn’t on the edge of melting down himself, but he had seen things in his years on the ocean, men overboard and barroom brawls, horrific machinery injuries and freak drownings, and it never got easier, but one got used to it, somehow, developed some kind of strange psychic protection to handle visions of horror. Even so, this time was going to be different, if he was right, if it was Haley they found, Pelican Town’s perennial prom queen, a beautiful, young blonde girl with endless potential and even more charm, someone so innocent and deeply connected - not like the unfortunate men of the sea, gruff strangers and people took to the ocean because they never fit in on land. This would get under his skin, would reappear in his worst dreams, and if he was right, if it was Haley, if something horrific and violent had happened to that bright young woman, this was going to tear the town apart.
For now, more brandy, a deep breath to steady himself, and he started banging on Mayor Lewis’s front door.
*
Harvey’s eyes fluttered open as the dawn light crept through his curtains, shifting gently so as not to disturb the serene sleeper beside him. His mustache twitched as he smiled to himself, still in awe of how he - awkward, anxious, perennially single, workaholic Harvey - had managed to have such a beautiful woman joining him in bed almost every weekend these days. Penny was an ethereal vision, he mused, that shock of red hair arranged on the pillow around her porcelain skin, a sheet draped across her petite torso, exposing her elegant shoulders, her small, round breasts. She was so beautiful, and she was so smart, and delightfully nerdy - they’d met through Maru, after she invited him to sci-fi movie night. And not only did this gorgeous woman enjoy cuddling on the couch while they watched old Star Trek reruns, but she understood him and his anxiety, didn’t flinch at his daily regimen of antidepressants, would open up about her own experiences seeing a therapist, dealing with the sloppy circumstances of her upbringing. They shared a sadness, the kind of quiet cloud that tended to worry other potential romantic partners, and they shared a passion, too - Harvey had been self-conscious about his age, more than a decade older than Penny, and about his appearance, his less-than-ideal body, compared to Penny’s peers running around shirtless on the beach - but he was a gentle, experienced lover, and their bodies just seemed to fit together, like this was somehow meant to be.
It was Sunday morning, he could stay in bed. He draped an arm around her, nuzzling his head into her pillow, when he heard the unpleasant buzz of the clinic doorbell. Maybe it was a mistake, he thought, closing his eyes and waiting a beat. The buzz rang again, several in a row this time, the kind of insistence that conveyed an emergency, and Harvey’s adrenaline kicked into action.
He jumped out of bed, groping for his glasses on the nightstand and searching for his boxers on the bedroom floor.
“Harv?” Penny sat up in bed, sleepily. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s ringing the buzzer,” he answered, “must be an emergency. Don’t worry, you can go back to sleep.” He pulled a pair of clean scrubs from a drawer and leaned over to kiss her softly. The buzzer went off again.
“No,” she said warily, “I better get out of here.”
He sighed. “If you really have to,” he said. For all the picture-perfect details of their budding relationship, Penny remained flighty like a frightened bird. She never wanted to be seen together in public, never wanted to stay long, assuring him that she just needed time, and he endlessly accepted her deferrals - because what else can I do, he asked himself, wait around for another beautiful young woman to fall in love with? Penny had all the leverage, it was her hand to play. He tried to push his doubts to the back of his mind and give her space, time.
He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her once more, whispered in her ear, and headed out of the apartment, slipping on his shoes and steeling himself for whatever awaited him downstairs.
But there was no blood, no gore, no passed-out patient waiting at the door, just Lewis and Willy, both stone-faced, waiting.
“Good morning,” Harvey said slowly, looking between them. “Is there a medical emergency?”
“She’s dead,” Willy choked out, “Wrapped in plastic.” He looked Harvey in the eye and stumbled, leaning on the threshold of the clinic.
“Willy found a body when he was fishing at the beach this morning,” Lewis explained quietly. “We need you to come take a look before I call the regional sheriff, so I can give them all the… required information.” Harvey had never seen Lewis look so quiet, so pale.
“It’s Haley,” Willy moaned, dropping his head against the door.
“We don’t know that yet,” Lewis said.
“It’s Haley, I saw her hair. There’s no one else in town with hair like that. That innocent girl, Yoba, save us…” he trailed off
Harvey swallowed. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I need to get a few things. I’ll be right back. You can wait inside, if you want.” He held the door for them and rushed back to his apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. There was something about his anxiety, the same condition that left him in a perpetual state of fight-or-flight at the most basic social situations, that also lent him a preternatural calm during actual times of peril. It was like he was in a trance, mind blank, emotionless, like a robot. It’s why he was a good doctor and a mediocre human, he thought ruefully as he swapped out slip-ons for boots and grabbed a coat and his emergency bag. He moved with urgency, didn’t stop to think about the fact that Penny was already gone, must have slipped out the back door, that she always left so quickly, the extra pair of pillows on the bed the only evidence anyone else had been there at all.
*
Horrible things happen slow and then fast, Harvey thought, sitting on a driftwood log at the edge of the beach, which was now swarming with police. He’d rushed down to the beach with Willy and Lewis and done his part - carefully unwrapped the body, confirmed the death, confirmed the identity, and looked over the corpse for signs of a struggle, thought he might see bruising around her neck, around her arms, and some kind of mark, a bruise or a burn, on her chest, but it was so hard to tell in conditions like this, when a body had been in the water. And then he relayed the information to the regional coroner over the phone in Willy’s shack as Willy got further into that small bottle of brandy he kept in his jacket, and they waited. The weather was clearing. A dismal fog hung over the beach when he first arrived, pressing down on him as he wordlessly embarked on one of the more awful jobs of his professional career, the damp, heavy air pinning him to the dock with the body - he couldn’t think of it as Haley or he’d lose it. But the sun was battling with the sky all morning and had started to break through the clouds, the fog gradually dissipating.
Lewis cordoned off the beach, called Pierre and Kent down, reminded them they were technically Pelican Town’s police force, as they’d underwent training years ago in case of an emergency. Kent, a military veteran, immediately snapped into action and set about securing the area where the body had been found and searching the beach, while Pierre looked gray, like he might faint, or vomit, or both. Not surprising, really, Harvey thought, considering Pierre had a daughter around Haley’s age. And then they all waited. Willy returned to his cabin and came back with a dram of whiskey, which Harvey accepted, and then the offer of a cigarette, which Harvey turned down and then reconsidered, remembering how he’d sneak smoke breaks with the nurses when he did his residency in emergency medicine. He watched Pierre pacing the dock over and over, and then suggested, with a good degree of self-interest, that perhaps Pierre could go get an urn of coffee and maybe some sandwiches from Gus, since they might be here all day. Pierre leapt at the suggestion, and Harvey was pleased with himself for making the right diagnosis, Pierre really was itching to get away from the crime scene.
It must have been early afternoon when the police finally arrived, a whole team of officers and crime scene investigators and the coroner from the Stardew Valley Sheriff’s Office in Grampleton. They took over quickly, dispatching men to search the beach and the water, setting up a crime scene canopy after a quick interview with Harvey about the body. The eerie stillness of the morning was replaced by the beeping din of walkie-talkies, the sound of assured voices, the crunching of boots on sand.
Lewis took a seat next to Harvey on the driftwood log. “Thank you for your help, doctor,” he said. Harvey wondered if Lewis might let him go home. “I appreciate you sticking around.” Ah, no such luck.
They were interrupted by the sudden bang of a wooden door. Harvey turned to Lewis. “Did anyone talk to Ell-”
Too late. Lewis rushed over as the long-haired writer stood at the door of his cabin, wearing a silk bathrobe with a floral print, calling out to the uniformed officers on the beach. “Excuse me gentlemen, can someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
“Elliott!” Lewis called, jogging over and putting his arm around him. “There’s been an incident on the beach. Perhaps you can go inside and we’ll inform you?”
The pair were joined by a tall man in a suit with a stern face, dark hair gelled back. “I’m Detective Redbank,” he said, pulling an ID from his pocket. “This area is closed for a crime scene investigation. Who are you?”
“Ah, we haven’t met yet, detective! I’m Lewis, mayor of Pelican Town, I’ve been working with the Sheriff.”
Detective Redbank nodded slowly. “Well, I’ll be supervising the investigation. I expect we’ll talk more later. Now, this man is?”
“I’m Elliott, I live here,” he said, gesturing a little frantically, “and no one has told me what on earth is going on!”
“He lives in that cabin?” Detective Redbank asked Lewis, “And no one has informed the officers or taking him aside for questioning? He’s been here all day?”
Lewis was silent. Well, that was a rather large oversight. He was so worried about coming across as professional, not appearing like a backwoods town of hillbillies and halfwits, and only a few hours in he had already made a massive mistake. It was that small-town naivete creeping in - he had known Elliott for years, the man was flamboyant but harmless, he didn’t even consider that he could be a person of interest . Could he be?
The detective didn’t push it, just radioed to his team and led Elliott back into his cabin. They were soon joined by a uniformed officer with a recording device, along with Kent and Pierre, looking slightly bewildered.
Elliott busied himself pulling out chairs around the cabin. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Can I get anyone anything? Coffee, water, libations?”
“That’s alright,” Detective Redbank sat in a chair opposite him. “Now, I’m Detective Redbank from the Stardew Valley Sheriff’s Office. This is Officer Keane, also from the Sheriff’s Office, and Officers - er-”
“Pierre Desjardins and Kent Taylor,” Kent filled in.
“Now, please state your name and address for the record,” the detective continued.
“Elliott Hepworth. You know, I’m not sure if I have an official address. I guess, Number One, The Beach, Pelican Town.” He flopped in an armchair, drawing his robe around him.
“Let the record show that we are recording this conversation. Now, Elliott, are you acquainted with Haley Allen?”
Elliott nodded. "Yes."
“How well did you know her?”
“Well, about how well I know everyone in town - there aren’t many of us.”
“Would you call her a friend?” Detective Redbank watched Elliott’s expression.
Elliott pursed his lips. “Er, not really? Or maybe? Why does it matter, anyway?”
“Now, could you tell me where you were last night, Elliott?”
Elliott’s eyes narrowed, looking at the four men. “Oh Yoba, did something happen?”
“Please answer the question.”
“I was here, in my cabin, working on my novel. I took a long walk in the afternoon, then returned home and worked late into the night.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. Alone with my typewriter and the better part of a bottle of wine. I’m afraid I was rather in my own world in here.”
“Did you hear anything or see anything unusual?”
Elliott sighed, looking off into the middle distance, trying to replay the night in his mind. “I was listening to music, writing, drinking - I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything.”
“And that rowboat outside, is that yours?”
“Oh, that? It came with the cabin. I use it from time to time. But so do other people in town.”
Detective Redbank nodded slowly. “Who else uses it?”
“Well, anyone is free to. It’s never kept locked up or anything.” Elliott glanced over at Kent and Pierre, trying to read the situation from their grim faces. His head ached like his brain was being pummeled with little hammers - he really had too much to drink last night. He remembered the soft glow of his desk lamp, wine glasses on the desk, but it had been productive - steaming through page after page, only getting up to flip the records he was listening to.
“Thank you, Elliott. Let the record reflect this interview concluded at 3:15 PM. Officer Kean, you can end the recording.” He stood up, the officer ,Kent, and Pierre following suit. “Elliott, we’re going to have to take the boat to the lab for analysis. I’ll give you my card - if you remember anything else, please get in touch. And it would be best if you could stay in Pelican Town for the time being, we may have more questions for you. I’ll ask you to notify Officer Taylor or Officer Desjardins if you plan to leave.” Kent and Pierre exchanged glances.
“Right, of course,” Elliott said slowly, “and at some point will someone fill me in on what’s going on?”
“We’ll be giving a statement to the mayor,” Detective Redbank said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
The four men left the cabin in single-file, Pierre looking over his shoulder to give Elliott a sympathetic glance. Elliott watched them cross the beach through the window, squinted at the hive of activity outside. It looked like a movie set. He felt a growing dread well up in his chest. Something terrible must have happened. And right outside his door? His cabin suddenly felt claustrophobic, the air inside too stale. He glanced around at his typewriter, at the empty bottle of wine, the glasses in the sink, his clothes in a pile on the floor next to the bed. He wanted to get dressed, get out of here, get off this beach. Would that look suspicious? Did they think he knew something? He dropped his head into his hands. Nothing had happened yet, but he could sense everything was about to change.
*
“Mayor Caron,” Detective Redbank held out his hand. “Thank you for your help today. Our team is removing the body and the boat to take to the lab. We’ll connect with your police force when the reports are ready.”
“We’re only a part-time police force, you know,” Pierre cut in. He and Kent were standing on either side of Lewis.
Detective Redbank nodded. “Yes, I heard. If you’d prefer, we can see if we can find a few officers available to take the case, since I’m sure you don’t have many crimes here.”
“No, we’re adequately staffed,” Lewis said quickly, “No need. It’s just the first major incident for these officers,” he nudged Pierre with his foot. “Officer Taylor has recently returned from military service and is more than up to the task.”
“Great,” the detective replied. “I’ll continue to serve as a liaison, and you can call me for assistance anytime. Please send me copies of your reports after you question individuals. Hopefully we’ll turn up some clues from the beach as well.”
“So the beach,” Lewis started, “When can we open the beach again?”
“Well, we need to keep it cordoned off until we determine whether there is any physical evidence. I can’t give you an exact date.” The detective looked impatient.
“You see, though, it’s quite an important place for the town, especially as the weather starts to warm, and pretty soon we’ll start getting tourists, and I don’t want it to be thought of as a crime scene-”
“Right now, it is a crime scene,” Detective Redbank snapped. “You’ll be informed. If that’s all, I’d like to start clearing out. It’s Sunday afternoon, and I have a long ride home.”
He turned away, leaving the three men standing on the beach in the afternoon light. Lewis realized it had really turned out to be a beautiful day. The sun was shining, warm spring wind off the water, not a remnant of the damp fog that started the morning. Shame this had to happen on a day like this. Shame it happened at all, of course. These kinds of things didn’t happen in Pelican Town - he couldn’t remember the last time they had any reportable crimes. He wondered how people in town would react, if they’d panic, if it was his job to make sure they didn’t panic. He still hadn’t fully processed that it was Haley Allen - gorgeous, bright, popular Haley - being carted away in that body bag. Yoba, what a horrible thing. If he thought about it too long, it made his stomach ache.
“So,” Pierre said, “What now?”
Kent had his hands in his pockets, kicking at the sand. “I suppose we’d better make a list of everyone who we should interview. And get started on those conversations.”
“But what about safety?” Pierre asked. “I’m thinking of Abby, of Caroline, of Jodi- do we need to worry?”
No one spoke. Lewis looked out at the ocean, the sun glinting on the surface. “I don’t want to cause a panic,” he said quietly.
“Right,” Pierre retorted, “and I don’t want my daughter to get murdered.”
“Hey now,” Kent interjected. “Let’s be thoughtful about this. Lewis, why don’t we have a town meeting tomorrow?”
“It should be tonight,” Pierre said. “I’m sure rumor mill is already spinning, everyone will have seen the Sheriff’s cars and the coroner’s van driving through town.”
“Right, so town meeting tonight. We’ll prepare a statement, encourage people to come forward if they’ve seen anything, to be vigilant when out at night but not to panic. Pierre and I can start interviews tomorrow.”
Lewis nodded. “Thank you, Kent. I’m afraid I feel a bit out of my depth, boys. I’ve never handled anything like this before.”
Pierre raised his eyebrows. “You feel out of your depth? Lewis, I went to a 3-day training to help provide security as a part-time police officer at town fairs, and now I’m investigating the murder of a girl I’ve known since she was a toddler.”
Kent shook his head. “This is a good town. We’re good men. We’re going to proceed carefully, and cautiously, and with good intentions, and we’ll be alright.”
“Kent-” Pierre started, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “This just doesn’t feel real. I don’t understand what could have possibly happened. Someone was murdered in Pelican Town. Was the killer someone who lives here?”
It was the first time anyone had voiced that nagging possibility, and the three men let the thought hang in the air. The quiet was shattered by an abrupt cacophony as a mass of crows flew over the beach, cackling as they passed.
“I’ve never seen that many crows at once,” Lewis said, looking up.
“Has anyone been in touch with Haley’s sister?” Kent asked suddenly.
Lewis was still watching the crows. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll talk to Emily.” He paused and looked at his compatriots. “Pierre, go home, start making calls, try to gather everyone in the town square in a few hours. Before it gets dark. Kent, you put a statement together. You have a good demeanor for this kind of thing, people trust you.”
Kent nodded. “Will do. Pierre, give me a call when everything is arranged?”
“Of course. Now, let’s go, I want to get off this beach.” He looked at Lewis expectantly.
Lewis nodded. “You two go. I’ll be right along. I need to think, it’s been a long day.” He looked out at the horizon, where the blue of the spring sky and the deeper blue sea blended in an endless, infinite line. Did Haley die here, on this beach, he wondered. Was it bloody, was it violent? How is it possible, to be murdered in so beautiful a place?
What is death, if not a return to that borderless realm, the limitless space where the light begins?