Omar did not think himself religious, nor spiritual. He had often wondered what his faith meant to him. That he was half Malay and half English meant that he had grown up in the most liberal household with parents who ate and drank everything, celebrated Christmas, Hari Raya and even the occasional Wiccan celebration. Once his mother took him and Lulu to a Beltane celebration, which happened on May Day, deep in the Norfolk countryside. He remembered women and men in long flowing cloaks, children wearing flower necklaces who ran freely on the large open field, a bonfire and a maypole which they all took turns dancing around. There was much feasting and chanting and some kind of ritual in a circle, which involved wands—Real ones, Omar! said his mother—and the invocation of the four archangels by a tall man with long black hair. His father had probably last set foot in a mosque when his Tok died, and was not a man who lived by any kind of religious code or creed.

But he felt closer to God than he ever had. It gave him a kind of strength he so desperately needed. No, he was not going to start praying five times a day, but he would at least once a day, put his head on the ground and prostate himself in the direction of the Kaabah. The Al Fatihah held more and more meaning for him, and became a prayer that he would utter several times a day, when he was in the car driving or waiting for a coffee at a café. This kind of horror was incomprehensible, he felt that the only way to understand what had possibly happened to Alba was because God had shown mercy, that Alba had been spared of a life of suffering. That God had taken her because she was good and pure.

Eight days after their DNA samples had been taken, Omar received a call from Inspector Awang. He had just come out of a meeting with Fairman and their accountants when his phone rang. He felt his stomach lurch, walked quickly into his office and shut the door.

Inspector Awang was quick and to the point, as if he’d read from a script, Omar later thought.

“The body has decomposed too badly, it has been in water and humidity and we cannot get a match. There are no dental records and there is no other way of identifying the body. Our forensics team did the test three times, but the DNA is unreliable and has been severely compromised. We are truly sorry but we cannot confirm that the body is that of your child, Alba. And finally, Encik Omar, as this case has been ongoing for several months now, and this was our last resort of finding any leads towards your daughter’s disappearance, we have no choice but to close this case. This is a dead case, Encik Omar. We are very sorry, but we have done everything that is humanly possible by our police officers to find your daughter. We hope you will accept our sympathies and we are confident that you will try to find some way of moving on with your lives. Please convey our sincerest sympathies to your wife. We are very sorry but we have no choice but to classify this as a dead case. This case is now closed. Thank you for your patience and have a good day.”