“It was his reaction when I mention I was from Hailsham. He'd just come through his third donation, it hadn't gone well, and he must have known he wan't going to make it. He could hardly breathe, but he looked towards me and said: "Hailsham. I bet that was a beautiful place.”

“What he wanted was not just to hear about Hailsham, but to remember Hailsham, just like it had been his own childhood. He knew he was close to completing and so that's what he was doing: getting me to describe things to him, so they'd really sink in, so that maybe during those sleepless nights, with the drugs and the paint and the exhaustion, the line would blur between what were my memories and what were his.”

“We need to talk.”“I’m just – Look,” I said, as he took a step toward me. “I’m just going to give Cee Cee a call and maybe we’ll go to the beach or something, because I really … I just need a day off.”Another step toward me. Now he was right in front of me.“Especially,” I said significantly, looking up at him, “from talking. That’s what I especially need a day off from. Talking.”“Fine,” he said. He reached up and cupped my face in both his hands. “We don’t have to talk.”And that’s when he kissed me. On the lips.”

“His face was in my neck and he was breathing hard. Was he grieving me? Already? Would he miss me? Had I, in some tiny way, come to matter to this enigmatic, hard, brilliant, obsessed man? I realised he'd come to matter to me. Good or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me...”

“You were dancing with Yuki and I looked at you. And you turned away and held her closer. Why did you do that? If you didn't want to hurt me, then why?"He looked away, as though he'd been slapped, but he didn't look guilty. He looked pained. "I closed my eyes," he said, his voice so low and strangled she could hardly hear him."What?" she asked, not understanding."Tamani held up a hand and Laurel realized he hadn't finished-he was having trouble speaking at all. "I closed my eyes," he repeated after a few shallow breaths, "and imagined she was you."He looked at her, his face open, his eyes honest, his voice a song of anguish.”

“Anything your father said. People he might have mentioned.”“Amos,” I blurted out, just to see his reaction. “He met a man named Amos.”Inspector Williams sighed. “Sadie, he couldn’t have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago, on the phone from his home in New York.”“He isn’t in New York!” I insisted. “He’s right—”I glanced out the window and Amos was gone. Bloody typical.”