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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

I looked up at the road and then back to the passenger seat, the digital display a faint orange, the numbers slowly ticking over. Now the two of them were talking as if Adrian Vale was actually the man responsible for Beatrix’s disappearance, not simply the man who’d taken the fall for it. I wheeled back in my thoughts to what the woman had said on tape when I’d first switched the Dictaphone on at Seiger and Sten: I hurt her, and then I betrayed her, and then, when it was finally over, I buried her in the deepest hole I could find. It had sounded so much like a confession, so obvious a proclamation of guilt. I’d been so on edge at Seiger and Sten – so conscious of being found there – that at the time I hadn’t even stopped to consider an alternative, even though the fact that Patrick had seemed to go along with it – had even seemed accepting of the crime the woman was saying she’d committed – had always bothered me. But now everything was starting to jar.

‘Are you okay?’

It was Patrick, his voice soft.

And then, slowly, as the silence rolled on, something else faded in, barely there at first, and then louder and louder until it was all I could hear.

Sobbing.

‘I know this is hard,’ Patrick continued, and I heard him move, and then the rustle of clothing as the two of them embraced.

‘I let her go,’ the woman said quietly.

‘You did what you thought was best.’

‘I let her go,’ she repeated, the sentence dulled slightly by her mouth being so close to Patrick. ‘I let her go. I never should have let her go …’

‘Dave and Mira, they were good people. They really loved her.’

‘I know,’ the woman said.

‘She had a happy childhood.’

‘I know she did. I know they were good to her.’ The woman sniffed, coughed a little. ‘But that doesn’t make it better. I still gave her away.’

‘You were fifteen.’

‘She was my baby, Patrick.’

Everything else faded except the voice on the tape.

‘Beatrix was my baby,’ the woman repeated, her words gluey and pained. ‘She was my daughter – and I gave her away.’

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Part Six

THE MOTHER

I can hear a noise.