have gotten someone to smuggle it out for him. Whatever happens, I’ll be putting in an intelligence report about that.”
We turned off the highway and listened to Sam’s satellite navigation telling us in a calm voice to take the next turn, left, right, continue straight for two point four miles.
“So how’s Stuart?”
“He’s fine. We’re fine.”
“What’s it like being married?”
I laughed. “Not much different from how it was before. Anyway, it’s only been five months, give us a chance.”
“No babies yet?”
“Not yet. Don’t tell me you’re feeling broody?”
“I’m not, but Jo is. We’re going to get married next year, I think.”
“Sam, you never said.”
“Well, we’ve been together ten years. It’s about time.”
“Have you asked her?”
“Not yet.”
“You should get on and do it. It’s worth it. Can we come to the wedding?”
“Of course you can. I was going to ask Sylvia, too.”
“She’d love it.”
“Anyway, we’re here.”
The Farley Industrial Estate was deserted, long wide streets empty of traffic, litter blowing across the potholed blacktop. We passed a kebab van, shutters down. Half the units were unoccupied, the whole area had a sense of desolation, and Unit 23 was no exception. It was as far as you could go, around a final corner. It was like the end of the world.
Sam parked the car in front of it.
“There, look.”
Among the weeds growing around the building, a narrow dusty path twisted off between the chain-link fence and the wall of the unit. Stinging nettles grew to chest height, swaying toward us in the breeze.
Sam went first, weaving her way along the path, one hand on the wall of the unit. A rabbit scuttled across the path in front of us and made me jump.
Behind the unit the narrow space suddenly widened into a patch of wasteland. We walked across a large expanse of concrete, weeds growing up through the cracks. The sun shone over our heads and a bird sang from somewhere high up. It was completely deserted, not a person anywhere in sight.
“Now where?”
I shaded my eyes from the sun and looked around, toward the trees he’d described, and saw it, a flash of color in a landscape of gray and brown and green.
“There. See it?”
It was a patch of red, scarlet, like a flag, and as we got closer it fluttered at us as though it were alive. I already knew what it was but it was still a shock to see it. I felt the tears start in my eyes and they were falling before I could stop them. It was like seeing an old friend, and a nightmare.
“What is it?” Sam said.
“It’s my dress.”
The edges of it were ragged, and it was dusty and filthy, but I still recognized it. All of the buttons were missing, and sections of it had been cut out, leaving the bare edges to fray and catch the wind. It must have been here for some time.
“That’s it? Just an old dress?”
It was anchored to the rocky soil by an old spade, rusted, which had been placed across it, and a heap of stones that had been laid over the top, like a cairn, like a grave.
“No,” I said. “It’s a marker.”
She saw it just a few moments after I did. At the bottom of the ditch, the movement caught my eye as the wind blew against a hank of dark hair. At first it looked artificial, like frayed hessian, and the skin like old canvas. And then the sudden whiteness of the broken bone, and there was no confusion anymore.
“Oh, shit, shit.” Sam grabbed her cell and started phoning, calling for backup, and I sank to my knees among the dry soil and the stones, and stroked my fingers against the fabric.
“I think she’s called Naomi,” I said.
From the back pocket of my jeans I pulled out the second page of the letter.
“Sam. You’d better look at this.”
I’m sorry for what I did to Sylvia, and to the old woman who lived in the flat downstairs. They meant nothing to me other than as a means to find you. You should realize that nobody and nothing can ever stop me from finding you, Catherine. I’ve left you this gift as a sign that I am prepared to take the blame for everything. But it won’t stop me. However long it takes, I will wait for you. One day I will be free, and I will find you and we can be together.
Wait for me, Catherine.
I love you.
Lee
Acknowledgments
The book you’re holding would never have come into