All Shall Be Well
“Kincaid peered through the Midget’s windscreen in the gray light, straining to see the road, while the wipers clicked monotonously back and forth, scrubbing at the drizzle. He’d left the M3 at Basingstoke, heading west on the two-lane A roads, toward Dorset.The decision, made somewhere between finishing his coffee and leaving his flat for the Yard, had taken him by surprise. He’d dreamed of Jasmine—the fierce girl of the journals, not the Jasmine of unbreachable reserve, fragile from her illness—and awakened with an imprinted image of her scribbling in her tiny attic room.There’d been a gap after the entry about the boy, and when she wrote again it was of living in London, finding a flat, adjusting to a new job. Compared to the earlier entries these were strangely emotionless, as if the journals had been relegated to trivial record keeping.Kincaid had given up, exhausted, but found himself worrying at it again this morning. He’d done some quick arithmetic—Jasmine had been twenty-one a...t the time of that last entry, and to him she seemed oddly immature.MoreLess
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