Page 66 of The Man Made of Smoke

“I’m okay.”

“Really? You look like shit.”

“Thanks. I’m not sleeping all that well.”

“Or eating all that well, I’m guessing.” She hesitated. “I’m actually meaning all this in a sympathetic way.”

“Noted.”

But now that she’d mentioned it, I realized how hungry I was. I’d left the house that morning without breakfast, impatient to get to the mainland and find Rose Saunders, and had been running pretty much on coffee vapors ever since. There was a feeling of faintness right now that wasn’t entirely down to the events of the day, or the situation unfolding in front of me. Whatever else I did, I needed to start taking better care of myself.

But first things first.

For another minute, nothing happened, but then the activity at the cliff edge ratcheted up a notch. My view of what was happening was partially blocked by the backs of Fleming and his officers, but it was obvious from their body language that the moment was close. The two men shackled to the loops were leaning over, ropes clenched in their gloved fists. I saw them beginning to strain with effort as they pulled the weight below them upward.

I closed my eyes.

“Steady.”

Fleming’s voice drifting over.

Then:

“Okay. Good.”

I left it a few more seconds before opening my eyes. My father’s remains were on the cliff edge now: a vaguely human shape sealed inside a black bag on a stretcher, surrounded by coils of rope on the ground. As the officers stepped away, I couldn’t decide whether his body looked larger or smaller than I had expected it to be. There was something diminished about it, but at the same time it seemed to fill the world.

Fleming crouched down beside the stretcher. I heard the quiet sound of a zip being undone.

I felt Sarah’s hand on my arm again.

“It’s okaynotto be here,” she said. “You do know that, right?”

“No.”

Fleming tilted his head, still crouched down on his haunches and staring into the open bag. Then he knelt down properly and moved the lining, examining the remains more closely. He stayed like that for what seemed like an age. Then he rubbed the back of his hand over his jawline, lost in thought.

“Jesus,” one of the other officers said quietly.

Finally, Fleming stood up and turned around. His gaze moved steadily over the crowd until it reached and settled on me, and then he saw Sarah standing beside me and his face went blank.Fuck you, I thought. I stared back and, after a few seconds, he looked away again. But he raised his hand slightly in my direction. Summoning me.

I walked across to the cordon, leaving Sarah behind me. Fleming met me at the tape. He didn’t look at me though. Instead, he stared over my shoulder, his jaw clenched.

“Liam?” I prompted.

“It’s not him,” he said.

“What?”

He turned to me suddenly, eyes full of anger.

“What do you meanwhat?” he said. “Are you deaf?It’s not your father.The body’s been in the water awhile, but nowhere near long enough. And it’s a much younger guy.”

I stared at him. But he was looking over my shoulder again now.

“And apart from anything else,” he said, “he’s wearing a wedding ring.”

Nineteen

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