A year into Con’s investigation and still nothing from Jasmine or Cierra. No sign at all, up in the mountains or elsewhere.

Except for today.

Perhaps.

In Murphy’s hand was a postcard from Jasmine that had arrived at the Limestone Creek Police Station one week ago. Con had brought it with him, and this was the time and place she’d specified to meet. ‘Can’t wait to see you,’ she’d written.

Con had tried to keep Murphy’s expectations in check – it seemed the card came from an online service and its delivery had been scheduled over a year ago. It proved nothing, and yet hope was alive in Murphy’s chest, like a bee in a jar. A hope Murphy hadn’t allowed himself for a long time.

Jasmine, missing for a year, to the day . . .

He’d almost invited Butch, too, but he didn’t. Just in case. He didn’t want Jasmine to see him and back away.

It had taken most of the year, but Murphy had smoothed things over with his brother. He had seen Sara’s letter, and he believed Butch – Sara had been the one to come to him, that night Jasmine was conceived.

It was a strange thing, to fall a little bit out of love with your dead wife.

He supposed this was exactly what Jasmine had been trying to prevent. Jasmine with her little plans, her little schemes. The agony she had caused him.

Murphy hoped, from the bottom of his soul, that if Jasmine arrived today, she had grown up a lot. Because it would take serious maturity for her to handle the decade-long grounding he was going to give her.

‘What’s the time?’ said Murphy. He had turned his phone off: he didn’t want any messages from anyone.

‘Ten thirty-five,’ said Con.

‘Okay,’ said Murphy gruffly. ‘Talk about something. Please.’

‘Umm . . .’ said Con. ‘What’s your coffee like?’

‘It’s good. Next question.’

‘Penelope seems nice.’

‘Yeah,’ said Murphy, with a small smile. ‘She’s better than I deserve. More patient than Sara ever was. Just as stubborn, though.’

Penelope was a teacher at the local primary school. Their relationship had been rocky at the start – Murphy’s grief and anger had got in the way every time something challenged them. She’d forced him to get counselling, which hadn’t helped, so then she’d forced him to join a men’s group, which was helping. She’d also started coming to church with him, as a show of support to the changes Murphy was trying to make. It wasn’t a perfect relationship, none ever was, but it was starting to bloom. She’d even taken the day off work in support, but respected his request to go meet Jasmine alone.

‘Have you heard much from Pastor Hugh?’ said Murphy.