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Chapters (109)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Praise for Tim Weaver
  4. Dedication
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. Joline
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. The Motel
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. Part Two
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. Caraca
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. Late-Night Call
  28. 18
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. Pioneer
  32. Part Three
  33. 21
  34. 22
  35. 23
  36. The Suicide: Part 1
  37. 24
  38. 25
  39. 26
  40. The Suicide: Part 2
  41. 27
  42. 28
  43. 29
  44. Clear: Part 1
  45. 30
  46. 31
  47. Clear: Part 2
  48. Part Four
  49. 32
  50. 33
  51. 34
  52. Monster
  53. 35
  54. 36
  55. 37
  56. Martina: Part 1
  57. Part Five
  58. 38
  59. 39
  60. 40
  61. Martina: Part 2
  62. 41
  63. 42
  64. 43
  65. Dead Ends
  66. 44
  67. Part Six
  68. 45
  69. 46
  70. 47
  71. The Photograph Album
  72. 48
  73. 49
  74. 50
  75. Empty
  76. Part Seven
  77. 51
  78. 52
  79. Retirement: Part 1
  80. 53
  81. 54
  82. 55
  83. 56
  84. Retirement: Part 2
  85. 57
  86. Part Eight
  87. 58
  88. 59
  89. 60
  90. 61
  91. 62
  92. Circle
  93. 63
  94. 64
  95. 65
  96. 66
  97. An Ending
  98. 67
  99. 68
  100. Part Nine
  101. 69
  102. Family
  103. 70
  104. Part Ten
  105. 71
  106. 72
  107. Author’s Note
  108. Acknowledgements
  109. THE BEGINNING

Apart from us, it was deserted.

I pulled into the pump beside hers, then unscrewed the cap on my Audi. The kids were in the back, the girl on her phone, the boy playing a game on a tablet. I started filling up my car, waiting for her to make eye contact with me, and – as soon as she did – I smiled and did a subtle double take.

‘Sorry for staring,’ I said. ‘It’s just, I’m sure we’ve met.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t … I don’t think so.’

‘You’re Isaac’s friend, aren’t you?’

She looked surprised.

‘Um … Yes. How did you …?’

This time, she was embarrassed that she hadn’t remembered me.

‘How is Isaac?’

‘He’s good,’ she said, still confused. ‘We just met him, actually.’

‘That’s great, uh … Sorry. This is terrible. I can’t remember your name.’

‘Melia.’

‘Melia. Right. I’m Mike.’

‘Hey,’ she said, and grimaced. ‘I’m so sorry, Mike. When was it we met?’

‘Oh, a few weeks ago. In town.’

She nodded politely, as if she remembered.

‘So how long is it that you two have been going out now?’ I asked, not giving her the chance to ask me specifics about our last meeting.

‘It’ll be three months yesterday.’

‘Wow, that’s great. Isaac’s such a lovely guy.’

She nodded. ‘He is. The kids love him too.’

I glanced at her children. ‘Yeah, he always was good with kids.’

A lovely guy, who was good with kids.

Who might have bugged nine missing people.

Who might know where they are.

I filled the rest of our conversation with bland talk about the weather, and once her tank was full, Melia went in and paid. While she was inside I got out my notebook and wrote down her registration plate. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do with it.

I wasn’t sure what to do about any of this.

Because now more than ever, I had no idea who the real Isaac Mills was.

The Suicide: Part 2

1985

Los Angeles | Wednesday 24 July

The two of them found some shade beneath the crooked branches of an elderberry tree fifteen feet from where the body of Donald Klein had been discovered. Jo still held the blue murder book in her hands, the photo from Klein’s first and only arrest staring out at her. She glanced at Ray Callson and said, ‘You really think Klein was working with someone?’

He shrugged. ‘He had the acid containers in his car and I’ll bet, over the next few days, the techs who worked that scene at the motel will also find a bunch of prints belonging to Donald Klein on surfaces in that room. It’ll be a slam dunk.’

‘But?’

Callson eyed her, saying nothing.