Kane dug into the pile, checked the one dated November 9, two days after Rory died, but no hanging had been reported. Maybe it wasn’t that kind of publication. No mention of Petra Wade, either. The back page listed church services, film showings, live entertainment. There were results of a darts tournament and appeals for football players. Finally, a message from Canon Damian Duncan: I am very pleased to say that a few females have expressed an interest in becoming members of the choir, but nothing so far from the men. We are desperately in need of more members; please think about it, even if you are only here for a short period of time.

Kane turned back through the old issues to gauge the general tone and saw that pictures had been torn out. When he tried to discern a pattern, it seemed they accompanied stories about Ascension Island children. He found three instances over the last year: Ascension Island scouts help out in bird survey. Young Islanders take their first diving certificate. Fifteen-year-old Petra Wade, smiling after her contest victory. All had been robbed of their accompanying image.

“Hello?” A woman appeared. “Can I help?” She wore a floral blouse, her graying hair tied back. Kane returned the papers to the pile. “I was told I might be able to hire a car off you. Is this the right place?”

“Not here. We had one but it’s being used.”

“That’s a shame. Any idea where I could pick one up?”

“Maybe Terry’s at One Boat. Know it?”

“Is it, by any chance, near Two Boats?”

“It’s on the way.”

“That makes sense. Terry.”

“If he’s not at the pump, try the golf course.”

No golf course had shown up on the satellite imagery. But the woman seemed sincere.

“The golf course is near a pump?”

“Petrol pump. You’ll see it.”

“What’s the best way to get to One Boat?”

“I take it you’re not driving.”

“Not yet.”

“I’d find someone who is.”

“Okay.”

Kane stepped back into the sunshine. The day was already hot. He wanted to survey the place before it became a furnace. He walked back toward his bungalow, saw a figure at the door waiting for an answer, then the police car from which he’d emerged.

Kane stopped. The man hadn’t seen him. He stepped sideways, out of sight, then circled wide of the accommodation back to the road.

He had a sense that it was worth keeping moving as long as he could. Maybe there was something important that wasn’t too difficult to find. Maybe he didn’t have long.

9