Page 119 of The Man Made of Smoke

But I tried my best.

And as the man finally reaches them, James looks away from him entirely: past the pen and into the woods beyond. His mother is standing between the trees again now, half illuminated by the floodlights, half illuminated by something else.

She smiles at him.

“Are you proud of me?” he says.

Her smile broadens.

More than you could ever know, she says.I love you so much.

Now close your eyes and come here.

ISLAND RESIDENT PLEADS GUILTY TO MAINLAND MURDERS

Craig Aspinall has today admitted his role in the murders of five people. The local handyman, well known in the community, pleaded guilty to the murders of Oliver Hunter, Graham Lloyd, Rose Saunders, Darren Field, and Michael Johnson. All five killings occurred between June and September this year.

Aspinall, 72, appeared by video link, having previously admitted to additional counts of assault and abduction at an earlier hearing. Sentencing was adjourned until next week, with the judge warning him that he faces a mandatory whole life term.

DCI Frank Smith said, “These were brutal crimes, showing a high degree of sophistication and planning. Craig Aspinall is an exceptionally dangerous man, and I hope that today’s events can begin to bring some degree of closure to the families and friends of his victims. Our thoughts are with them.”

He said, “I would like to thank the large team of officers who have worked tirelessly on what has been a complex and challenging investigation. Special credit is due to former officer John Garvie, whose efforts in helping to solve this case cannot be overstated.”

DCI Smith declined to comment on reports that further remains had been discovered following Aspinall’s arrest, stating only that the investigation remains open.

John Garvie was unavailable for comment.

Thirty-Seven

A knuckle rapped on the car window.

I looked up quickly from the newspaper clipping. The glass was dappled with rain. Beyond that, one of the security guards at the prison was leaning down next to the car, sheltering under an umbrella.

I put the window down.

“Hi, Eric.”

“Hey there, Dr. Garvie.” He gestured behind him with his thumb. “I buzzed you in at the gate, but I wanted to check. You’re not listed on the rota I was given as being at work today. Did someone make a mistake?”

I looked ahead, out through the windscreen. With its old brick walls and blocky towers, the prison was a forbidding sight at the best of times. Today, the weather made the building look even more washed-out and forlorn. A hopeless place. One that was perhaps best left obscured by the rain, assuming you couldn’t avoid it altogether. And today, I couldn’t.

“No,” I said. “I’m not on call. I’m here to see someone.”

He smiled. “Just can’t stay away, right?”

I did my best to smile back.

“Not a patient,” I said. “Not today.”

I walked around the perimeter and saw the queue of people waitingat the main entrance. They were all here to visit husbands, friends, loved ones. I’d seen them hundreds of times before in the past, and had always been oddly touched by the everyday sense of humanity their presence here suggested. Whatever the prisoners inside here might have done, they were just human beings. They had connections to ordinary lives that continued outside the prison’s walls. And maybe one day they would rejoin them.

My own appointment today was very different.

After I signed in, I was searched, and then a guard led me down an endless series of corridors, buzzing us through one door after another as he went. Eventually, we stopped outside one without a handle.

“You ready?” he said.

“Yes.”

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