You are now entering Bridgelands Cross. Please drive carefully.
Ethan felt the car’s engine judder as he passed the sign. The road into Bridgelands Cross was surrounded on both sides by thick forest, and he was only too aware of the limited space at the side of the road should he need to pull over.
Overhead, the lowest branches converged across the two lanes, giving the sensation of driving through an unlit tunnel. Flicking on his headlights, Ethan wondered if the forestry would remain this dense the whole way. Coverage for his satellite radio and navigation system had already been lost to the foliage and, according to the map, it was another five miles through the trees to the village itself.
He accelerated gently, only for the car to shudder violently. Ethan willed it to keep going, at least until he reached the other side of the trees. If his sense of scale was correct, the medical centre was now within walking distance should the worst come to the worst, but he’d prefer not to have to abandon his car somewhere it would cause an accident.
Gradually the trees thinned and the sky became visible again. A lighthouse came into view in the distance; a lone monument at the end of a far peninsula, the last object constructed by man before the world abandoned itself to the sea.
Switching off his headlights, Ethan followed the main road as it curved around the shoreline, keeping the lighthouse in his sights all the while. The gap between this landmark and his destination turned out to be greater than he’d anticipated, and he overshot the entrance to the medical centre. Cursing under his breath, Ethan scanned the road. It was quiet enough to let him execute an unhindered three-point turn, and wide enough to allow him to opt for an illegal U-turn instead.
Ethan brought the car to rest in the medical centre’s grounds, but stayed in the driver’s seat as he gathered his thoughts. The state of his car was the least of his worries. Having come all this way, all he wanted to do now was run back home. It was almost funny when he thought about it, even though thinking about it didn’t make him want to laugh.
Checking his watch, he saw he was on time. At least this should prevent him from encountering anyone else who might be viewing the body. That is, as long as the body had not already been claimed as that of some other unfortunate.
Ethan took a deep breath. He’d done this before, far too many times before. No matter how many times he did it, it never got any easier. Every rumoured sighting offered hope, even if it was a false hope. Each time he was called to an identification, that small amount of residual hope he carried was threatened with extinction.
Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, he tried to ready himself.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
There were some things in life he shouldn’t have to face alone. This was one of them.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Yet the person who’d supported him during his darkest times was the very person he was here to identify.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Looking down, he saw he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, the bones threatening to burst through his stretched skin.
And relax.
He was ready.
At least he was as ready as he’d ever be.
If it was Sophia, he would feel bad because he knew for certain. And if it wasn’t Sophia, he would feel bad because he still wouldn’t know at all. But he was ready for the anguish.
He had her bracelet in his pocket. She’d dropped it on the day she disappeared. Ethan had carried it ever since, as if it was a talisman that might somehow keep her alive. Reaching into his wallet, Ethan pulled out a photograph and looked at it one last time. Just to make sure he could remember how she looked. As if he was ever likely to forget.
Inside the medical centre, the body was waiting. Ethan left the car and approached the building. Two policemen were stationed in its reception. The shorter of the pair, a stout man with a waxy white moustache, spoke first.
‘You Ethan Cole?’
‘Last time I checked,’ Ethan replied.
He thrust out his driving licence to eliminate any lingering doubt. The puffed-up parking attendant studied his credentials, as if suspecting a careful forgery, before returning the papers.
‘Sergeant Max Sheehan,’ he said. ‘I’m in charge round these parts.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’
Sheehan narrowed his eyes.
‘This here’s Police Constable Byers.’
PC Byers nodded at Ethan. Despite standing at least half a foot taller than his superior, Byers remained in Sheehan’s shadow. Ethan thought it was Byers he’d spoken to when he made the arrangements. It certainly hadn’t been Sheehan. Ethan would have remembered him.
‘You here for the viewing?’ Sheehan asked.
‘You make it sound like we’re looking at houses.’
Ethan bit his tongue on seeing Sheehan’s glare. He’d come all this way to see if he could identify a body, not to get into a fight with the local constabulary, even if it was one whose police training extended no further than watching repeats of old cop shows.
Byers passed Ethan a visitor’s badge and a pen, then pointed to where he needed to sign the log book. Sheehan loitered by the doorway as Ethan entered his registration details.
‘Gotta warn you, son,’ he said, ‘she ain’t lookin’ too healthy.’
‘Funny how the dead never do.’
Sheehan folded his arms across his chest.
‘You done this before?’
‘More times than I’d want.’
‘Then you’ll know the routine.’
Pushing open the double-doors, Sheehan led Ethan down a series of clinically unwelcoming corridors where the stench of death was masked by an odour of industrial disinfectant.
‘Anyone else seen her?’ Ethan asked.
‘Been a few,’ Sheehan muttered. ‘All negative. Only one more after you.’
All negative.
An irrational part of Ethan’s brain reasoned that this increased his chances of recognising the dead girl, and once more he felt like running away. Or being sick. Or running away and then being sick.
‘Who knows,’ Sheehan said, ‘p’rhaps today’s your lucky day.’
‘That’s a unique way of putting it.’
Stopping abruptly, Sheehan turned to face his guest.
‘What I mean,’ he said, ‘is this girl we got might not be the girl you’re expectin’ to see.’
‘I got you.’
Sheehan resumed his strut.
‘It’s a nasty business,’ he added. ‘I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not my worst enemy, not on no-one. But it’s happened. That’s the way it is, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to make it any different. You get me?’
‘I got you.’
‘Then we understand each other.’
Reaching the pathologist’s room, Sheehan turned to Ethan again.
‘Now the body’s through here,’ he said, ‘so if you need some time to get yourself together, or you want a glass of water or something, you best let me know now.’
‘I’m ready,’ Ethan said.
He could hear the lack of conviction in his voice. Sheehan eyed him cautiously.
‘Well, you better be,’ he replied. ‘Cos you look a touch pale to me.’
‘I’m ready,’ Ethan repeated, no longer certain he was.
‘Well, it’s your call.’
Sheehan grunted as he opened the door. Stepping across the threshold, Ethan saw the covered body lying on the gurney. Once the sheet was pulled back, he knew there would be no way of unseeing the face it shielded.