Case Histories: A Novel
Case one: A little girl goes missing in the night.
Case two: A beautiful young office worker falls victim to a maniac's apparently random attack.
Case three: A new mother finds herself trapped in a hell of her own making - with a very needy baby and a very demanding husband - until a fit of rage creates a grisly, bloody escape.
Thirty years after the first incident, as private investigator Jackson Brodie begins investigating all three cases, startling connections and discoveries emerge . . .
She did love them, she really did. She just couldn’t feel it. They weren’t bonded together, they were like molecules, molecules that couldn’t bond together into stable elements and instead bounced around like bingo balls. She should have done science, not spent all her time with her head in novels. Novels gave you a completely false idea about life, they told lies and they implied there were endings when in reality there were no endings, everything just went on and on and on. And then she
subject to the disapproval of the waitress, who made it clear that she thought someone so overweight shouldn’t be eating at all. Time did not heal, it merely rubbed at the wound, slowly and relentlessly. The world had moved on and forgotten and there was only Theo left to keep Laura’s flame alive. Jennifer lived in Canada now and although they talked on the phone and e-mailed each other, they rarely talked about Laura. Jennifer had never liked the pain of remembering what had happened, but for
onions and who consulted with Jackson in the makeshift cupboard that passed for a sickroom at his school. The red-haired, bearded psychologist told Jackson that he had to move on, to get on with his own life, but Jackson was twelve years old and had nowhere left to move on from and nowhere obvious to go. Jackson wondered how many times people had suggested to Theo that he had to get on with his life. Theo Wyre was stuck somewhere near the beginning of the bereavement process, at a place he’d
rumbustious but at heart decent human beings – but they weren’t, they were little shits who never listened to a word she said. Julia was immediately attracted to the homeless girl’s dog, of course, which meant that one or the other of them would have to give the girl money because you could hardly make a fuss of the dog and not give something in return, could you? Julia was on her knees on the pavement, letting the dog lick her face. Amelia wished she wouldn’t do that, you didn’t know where that
back and if they took the next left at the crossroads they would come to the street where Jackson lived between the ages of nine and sixteen, but they didn’t take a left and Jackson didn’t mention it to Marlee. Jackson hadn’t visited the cemetery for ten years but he knew exactly where to go. There was a map that had been burnt into his memory a long time ago. There had been a time when he came here nearly every day, long ago when the dead were the only people who loved him. ‘This is where my