Page 51 of Beautiful Ugly

I hit the brakes and instinctively put my left arm out to protect the dog as the Land Rover screeches to a halt.

I took my eyes away from the road for only a second, but I think I’ve hit something.

Or someone.

I don’t move. I peer out through the windscreen into the fog, but I can’t see anything. I’m already spooked by Kitty’s letter and everything that happened in the cave, and I try to tell myself that I imagined whatever my brain thinks I just saw. But then a patch of mist right ahead clears enough for me to see it. The shape of a person lying in the road. A woman.

I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu, which makes no sense because I didn’t see someone lying in the road the night my wife went missing.Shedid.

Instinct tells me not to get out of the car. Guilt makes me do it anyway.

I should call someone, get help, but I can’t without a phone.

It looks like the woman was riding an old-fashioned bike. I can see it, twisted on its side a short distance from her. Why would anyone ride a bike on a cliff road that has no crash barriers in thick fog? It’s such a dangerous thing to do. I can understand if she didn’tseeme, but surely she must haveheardme. The ancient Land Rover is so loud it sounds like a tank. I still haven’t moved and neither has she, whoever she is.

The person lying there has their back to me.

I take a step toward her.

I can’t see her face, but I can see she is wearing a red coat.

The coat makes me think of Abby again. A year feels like a lifetime when you lose someone you love, but now, in this moment, it feels like it could have been yesterday. I know it isn’t her. I’ve thought that I’ve seen her so many times now that I’ve learned not to trust my own eyes. I gave up hoping she would come back to me a long time ago. But there is no denying that the red coat this woman is wearing looks a lot like the one Abby was wearing that night. I remind myself that it was from a high street shop; there must be hundreds just like it, maybe thousands. Besides, the police found Abby’s coat soon after she disappeared.

The woman in the road remains perfectly still.

“Hello?” I call.

There’s no reply. No movement. Nothing.

I take another small step closer, afraid of something I still can’t see.

“Are you hurt?” I ask when I am only a few steps away, but she still doesn’t move.

The mist starts to clear and then, just as fast as it arrived, it is almost completely gone.

When I see her face I start to tremble. I can’t move, can’tspeak, it feels like I can’t breathe, because this time there is no denying it.

I’m not seeing things.

I’m not imagining it.

The woman lying in the roadismy missing wife.

FOUND MISSING

She’s alive.

But now I’m worried I might have killed her.

I lean down toward Abby, still feeling dizzy and unsteady on my feet. I’m exhausted but suddenly feel wide awake, my heart thudding so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I stare at her and wonder if this is my fault, whether I might have fallen asleep at the wheel. IthinkI was reaching for the radio when it happened, but I’m so tired I’m not sure. Either way, I’m to blame for this. My mind is already editing the moment, rewriting what happened, trying to relieve the overwhelming stress of what I think I am seeing.

People are found missing all the time, but missing people are rarely found.

I reach out a hand to touch her face; I need to know if she is real. Her eyes fly open before my fingers make contact and she slaps my hand away. Then she sits up and glares at me.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asks, leaning away.

“It’sme,” I reply, but she stares at me with wild eyes.