The Sanatorium (Sarah Pearse)

VIKING
AnimprintofPenguinRandomHouseLLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
SimultaneouslypublishedinhardcoverinGreatBritainbyBantamPress,animprintofTransworld,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLtd.,London,in2021.
FirstAmericaneditionpublishedbyVikingin2021.
Copyright?2021bySarahPearseLtd.
Penguinsupportscopyright.Copyrightfuelscreativity,encouragesdiversevoices,promotesfreespeech,andcreatesavibrantculture.Thankyouforbuyinganauthorizededitionofthisbookandforcomplyingwithcopyrightlawsbynotreproducing,scanning,ordistributinganypartofitinanyformwithoutpermission.YouaresupportingwritersandallowingPenguintocontinuetopublishbooksforeveryreader.
APamelaDormanBook/Viking
LIBRARYOFCONGRESSCATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATIONDATANames:Pearse,Sarah,author.
Title:Thesanatorium:anovel/SarahPearse.
Description:[NewYork]:PamelaDormanBooks;Viking,[2021]
Identifiers:LCCN2020016188(print)|LCCN2020016189(ebook)|ISBN
9780593296677(hardcover)|ISBN9780593296684(ebook)Subjects:GSAFD:Mysteryfiction.
Classification:LCCPR6116.E169S262021(print)|LCCPR6116.E169
(ebook)|DDC823/.92—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020016188
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020016189
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businesses,companies,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Coverdesign:ErvinSerrano
Coverimages:(building)DavidClapp/GettyImages;(snowymountains)BuenaVistaImages/GettyImages;(frost)Shutterstockpid_prh_5.6.1_c0_r0ForJames,Rosie,andMolly,It’salongwaytothetop(ifyouwannarock’n’roll…)
—AC/DCCONTENTS
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Chapter47
Chapter48
Chapter49
Chapter50
Chapter51
Chapter52
Chapter53
Chapter54
Chapter55
Chapter56
Chapter57
Chapter58
Chapter59
Chapter60
Chapter61
Chapter62
Chapter63
Chapter64
Chapter65
Chapter66
Chapter67
Chapter68
Chapter69
Chapter70
Chapter71
Chapter72
Chapter73
Chapter74
Chapter75
Chapter76
Chapter77
Chapter78
Chapter79
Chapter80
Chapter81
Chapter82
Chapter83
Chapter84
Chapter85
Chapter86
Chapter87
Chapter88
Chapter89
Chapter90
Chapter91
Chapter92
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthorONNOUSAPPRENDàVIVREQUANDLAVIEESTPASSéE.
THEYTEACHUSTOLIVEWHENLIFEHASPASSED.
—MICHELDEMONTAIGNE
IHAVELOVEDCONSTRAINTS.THEYGIVEMECOMFORT.
—JOSEPHDIRANDPROLOGUE
January2015
Discardedmedicalequipmentlittersthefloor;surgicaltoolsblisteredwithrust,brokenbottles,jars,thescratchedspineofanoldinvalidchair.Atornmattresssitsslumpedagainstthewall,bile-yellowstainspockingthesurface.
Handclampedtightaroundhisbriefcase,DanielLemaitrefeelsasharpwaveofrevulsion:it’sasiftimehastakenoverthebuilding’ssoul,leftsomethingrottenanddiseasedinitsplace.
Hemovesquicklydownthecorridor,footstepsechoingonthetiledfloor.
KeepyoureyesonthedoorDon’tlookback.
Butthedecayingobjectspullathisgaze,eachonetellingstories.Itdoesn’ttakemuchtoimaginethepeoplewho’dstayedhere,coughinguptheirlungs.
Sometimeshethinkshecanevensmellit,whatthisplaceusedtobe—thesharp,acridscentofchemicalsstilllingeringintheairfromtheoldoperatingwards.
Danielishalfwaydownthecorridorwhenhestops.
Amovementintheroomopposite—adark,distortedblur.
Hisstomachdrops.Motionless,hestares,hisgazeslowlypickingovertheshadowycontentsoftheroom—aslewofpapersscatteredacrossthefloor,thecontortedtubesofabreathingapparatus,abrokenbedframe,frayedrestraintshangingloose.
He’ssilent,hisskinpricklingwithtension,butnothinghappens.
Thebuildingisquiet,still.
Heexhalesheavily,startswalkingagain.
Don’tbestupid,hetellshimself.You’retiredToomanylatenights,earlymornings.
Reachingthefrontdoor,hepullsitopen.Thewindhowlsangrily,jerkingitbackonitshinges.Ashestepsforward,he’sblindedbyanicygustofsnowflakes,butit’sarelieftobeoutside.
Thesanatoriumunnerveshim.Thoughheknowswhatitwillbecome—hassketchedeverydoor,window,andlightswitchofthenewhotel—atthemoment,hecan’thelpbutreacttoitspast,whatitusedtobe.
Theexteriorisn’tmuchbetter,hethinks,glancingup.
Thestark,rectangularstructureismottledwithsnow.
It’sdecaying,neglected—thebalconiesandbalustrades,thelongveranda,crumbledandrotting.Afewwindowsarestillintact,butmostareboardedup,uglysquaresofchipboardscarringthefa?adelikediseased,unseeingeyes.
DanielthinksaboutthecontrastwithhisownhomeinVevey,overlookingthelake.Thecontemporary,blockishdesignisconstructedmostlyofglasstotakeinpanoramicviewsofthewater.Ithasarooftopterrace,asmallmooring.
Hedesigneditall.
WiththeimagecomesJo,hiswife.She’llhavejustgottenbackfromwork,hermindstillchurningoveradvertisingbudgets,briefs,alreadycorrallingthekidsintodoingtheirhomework.
Danielimaginesherinthekitchen,preparingdinner,auburnhairfallingacrossherfaceassheefficientlychopsandslices.It’llbesomethingeasy—pasta,fish,stir-fry.Neitherofthemaregoodatthedomestics.
Thethoughtbuoyshim,butonlymomentarily.Ashecrossesthecarpark,Danielfeelsthefirstflickersoftrepidationaboutthedrivehome.
Thesanatoriumwasn’teasytogettointhebestofweather,itspositionisolated,highamongthemountains.Thiswasadeliberatechoice,engineeredtokeepthetuberculosispatientsawayfromthesmogofthetownsandcities,andkeeptherestofthepopulationawayfromthem.
Buttheremotelocationmeanttheroadleadingtoitwasnightmarish,aseriesofhairpinbendscuttingthroughadenseforestoffirs.Onthedriveupthismorning,theroaditselfwasbarelyvisible—snowflakeshurlingthemselvesatthewindscreenlikeicy,whitedarts,makingitimpossibletoseemorethanafewyardsahead.
Daniel’snearlyatthecarwhenhisfootcatchesonsomething,thetatteredremainsofaplacard,halfcoveredbysnow.Thelettersarecrude,daubedinred.
NONAUXTRAVAUX!!NOTOCONSTRUCTION!!
Angerspiking,Danieltramplesitunderfoot.Theprotestershadbeenherelastweek.Overfiftyofthem,shoutingabuse,wavingtheirgaudyplacardsinhisface
Ithadbeenfilmedonmobilephones,sharedonsocialmedia.
Thatwasjustoneoftheendlessbattlesthey’dhadtofighttobringthisprojecttofruition.Peopleclaimedtheywantedprogress,thetouristfrancsthatfollowed,butwhenitcamedowntoactuallybuildingtheybalked.
Danielknewwhy.Peopledon’tlikeawinner.
It’swhathisfatherhadsaidtohimonceanditwastrue.Thelocalshadbeenproudatthestart.They’dapprovedofhissmallsuccesses—theshoppingmallinSion,theapartmentblockinSierreoverlookingtheRh?ne—butthenhe’dbecometoomuch,hadn’the?Toomuchofasuccess,apersonality.
Danielgotthefeelingthatintheireyeshe’dhadhisshareofthepie,andwasnowbeinggreedybytakingmore.Onlythirty-three,andhisarchitecturalpracticewasthriving—officesinSion,Lausanne,Geneva.OneplannedforZurich.
ItwasthesamewithLucas,thepropertydeveloperandoneofhisoldestfriends.Midthirties,andhealreadyownedthreelandmarkhotels.
Peopleresentedthemfortheirsuccess.
Andthisprojecthadbeenthenailinthecoffin.They’dhaditall:onlinetrolls,e-mails,letterstotheoffice.
Planningobjections.
Theycameforhimfirst.Rumorsbegancirculatingonlocalblogsandsocialmediathatthebusinesswasstruggling.Thenthey’dstartedonLucas.Similarstories,storieshecouldeasilydismiss,butoneinparticularstuck.
ItbotheredDaniel,morethanhecaredtoadmit.
Talkofbribes.Corruption.
DanielhadtriedtospeaktoLucasaboutit,buthisfriendhadshuttheconversationdown.Thethoughtnagsathim,anitch,likesomanythingsonthisproject,butheforcesitaway.Hehastoignoreit.Focusontheresult.
Thishotelwillcementhisreputation.Lucas’sdriveandhiscompulsionfordetailhavepropelledDanieltoaspectacularlyambitiousdesign,anendpointhehadn’tthoughtpossible.
Hereachesthecar.Thewindscreenisthickwithfreshsnow;toomuchforthewipers.Itwillneedscrapingoff.
Butashereachesintohispocketforhiskey,henoticessomething.
Abracelet,lyingbesidethefronttire.
Danielbendsdown,picksitup.It’sthin,andmadeofcopper.Hetwistsitbetweenhisfingers,noticingarowofnumbersengravedontheinterior…adate?
Hefrowns.Ithastobelongtosomeonewho’dbeenuptheretoday,surely?Otherwiseitwouldalreadybecoveredinsnow.
Butwhatweretheydoingsoclosetohiscar?
Imagesoftheprotestersflickerthroughhismind,theirangry,jeeringfaces.
Coulditbethem?
Danielmakeshimselftakealong,deepbreath,butashepushesthebraceletintohispocket,hecatchesaglimpseofsomething:amovementbehindtheridgeofsnowthat’sbuiltupagainstthewallofthecarpark.
Ahazyprofile.
Hisheartraces,hispalmssweatyaroundhiskeyfob.
Pushingdownhardonthefobtoopentheboot,hefreezesashelooksup.
Afigure,standinginfrontofhim,positionedbetweenhimandhiscar.
Danielstares,brieflyparalyzed,hisbrainfranticallytryingtoprocesswhathe’sseeing—howcouldsomeonehavemovedsoquicklytowardhimwithouthimnoticing?
Thefigureisdressedinblack.Somethingiscoveringtheirface.
Itresemblesagasmask;thesamebasicform,butit’smissingthefilteratthefront.Instead,there’sathickrubberhoserunningfrommouthtonose.Aconnector.
Thehoseisblack,ribbed;itquiversasthefigureshiftsfromfoottofoot.
Theeffectishorrifying.Monstrous.Somethingscrapedfromthedarkestdepthsoftheunconsciousmind.
Think,hetellshimself,think.Hismindstartschurningthroughpossibilities,waystomakethissomethinginnocuous,benign.It’saprank,that’sall:oneoftheprotesters,tryingtoscarehim.
Thenthefigurestepstowardhim.Aprecise,controlledmovement.
AllDanielcanseeisthelurid,magnifiedclose-upoftheblackrubberstretchedacrosstheface.Thethickribbedlinesofthehose.Thenhehearsthebreathing;astrange,wetsuckingsoundcomingfromthemask.
Liquidexhalations.
Hisheartispoundingagainsthisribcage.
“Whatisthis?”Danielsays,hearingthefearinhisvoice.Atremblehetriestostampout.“Whoareyou?
Whatareyoutryingtodo?”Adripslowlytricklesdownhisface.Snowmeltingagainsttheheatofhisskin,orsweat?Hecan’ttell.
Comeon,hetellshimself.Getcontrolofyourself.It’ssomestupidprick,messingaround.
Justwalkpastandgetintoyourcar.
It’sthen,fromthisangle,thathenoticesanothercar.
Acarthatwasn’ttherewhenhearrived.Ablackpickup.
ANissan.
Comeon,Daniel.Move.
Buthisbodyisfrozen,refusingtoobey.Allhecandoislistentothestrangebreathingsoundcomingfromthemask.It’sloudernow,faster,morelabored.
Asoftsuckingnoiseandthenahigh-pitchedwhistle.
Overandover.
Thefigurelurchescloser,withsomethinginhand.Aknife?Danielcan’tmakeitout—thethickgloveisconcealingit.
Move,move.
Hemanagestopropelhimselfforward,onestep,thentwo,butfearmakeshismusclesseize.Hestumblesinthesnow,rightfootslidingoutfromunderhim.
Bythetimehestraightensit’stoolate:theglovedhandclampsoverhismouth.Danielcansmellthestalemustinessoftheglovebutalsothemask—thecuriousburnt-plastickyodorofrubber,lacedwithsomethingelse.
Somethingfamiliar.
Butbeforehisbraincanmaketheconnection,somethingpierceshisthigh.Asingle,sharppain.Histhoughtsscatter;thenhismindgoesquiet.
Aquietthat,withinseconds,tipsoverintonothingness.
PressRelease—UnderEmbargountilMidnightMarch5,2018
LeSommet
HautsdePlumachit
Crans-Montana3963
Valais
Switzerland
5-STARHOTELSETTOOPENINTHESWISSRESORTOFCRANSMONTANA
LocatedonasunnymountainplateauaboveCrans-Montana,highintheSwissAlps,LeSommetisthebrainchildofSwisspropertydeveloperLucasCaron.
Aftereightyearsofextensiveplanningandconstruction,oneofthetown’soldestsanatoriumsissettoreopenasaluxuryhotel.
ThemainbuildingwasdesignedinthelatenineteenthcenturybyCaron’sgreat-grandfatherPierre.Itbecamerenownedworldwideasacenterfortreatingtuberculosisbeforetheadventofantibioticsforceditsdiversification.
Morerecently,itgainedinternationalrecognitionforitsinnovativearchitecture,earningtheelderCaronaposthumousSwissArtAwardin1942.Combiningcleanlineswithlargepanoramicwindows,flatroofs,andunadornedgeometricalshapes,onejudgedescribedthebuildingas
“groundbreaking”—customdesignedtofulfillitsfunctionasahospital,whilealsocreatingaseamlesstransitionbetweentheinteriorandexteriorlandscapes.
LucasCaronsaid:“Itwastimewebreathednewlifeintothisbuilding.Wewereconfidentthatwiththerightvision,wecouldcreateasensitivelyrestoredhotelthatwouldpayhomagetoitsrichpast.”
UndertheguidanceofSwissarchitecturalfirmLemaitreSA,ateamhasbeenassembledtorenovatethebuildingandalsoaddastate-of-the-artspaandeventcenter.
Subtlyrefurbished,LeSommetwillmakeinnovativeuseofnatural,localmaterialssuchaswood,slate,andstone.Thehotel’selegant,moderninteriorswillnotonlyechothepowerfultopographyoutside,butwilldrawonthebuilding’spasttocreateanewnarrative.
PhilippeVolkem,CEOofValaisTourisme,said,“Thiswilldoubtlessbethejewelinthecrownofwhatisalreadyoneofthefinestwinterresortsintheworld.”
Forpressinquiries,pleasecontactLemanPR,Lausanne.
Forgeneralinquiries/bookings,pleasevisitwww.lesommetcransmontana.ch.1
January2020
DayOne
ThefunicularfromthevalleytownofSierretoCrans-Montanascoresanear-perfectverticallineupthemountainside.
Slicingthroughsnow-coveredvineyardsandthesmalltownsofVenthone,Chermignon,Mollens,Randogne,andBluche,theroute,almostthreemileslong,takespassengersupthemountaininjusttwelveminutes.
Inoff-peakseason,thefunicularisusuallyhalfempty.
Mostpeopledriveupthemountainortakethebus.Buttoday,withtheroadsalmoststationarythankstoheavytraffic,it’sfull.
ElinWarnerstandsontheleftinthepackedcarriage,absorbingitall:thefatflakesofsnowcollectingonthewindows,theslush-coveredfloorpiledhighwithbags,thelankyteenagersshovingthroughthedoors.
Hershoulderstense.She’sforgottenhowkidsthatagecanbe:selfish,unawareofanyonebutthemselves.
Asoddensleevebrusheshercheek.Shesmellsdamp,cigarettes,friedfood,themusky-citrustangofcheapaftershave.Thencomesathroatycough.Laughter.
Agroupofmenarejostlingthroughthedoorway,talkingloudly,bulgingNorthFacesportsbagsontheirbacks.Theyaresqueezingthefamilynexttoherfartherintothecarriage.Intoher.Anarmrubshers,beerbreathhotagainstherneck.
Panicpushesthroughher.Herheartisracing.
Williteverstop?
It’sbeenayearsincetheHaylercaseandshe’sstillthinkingaboutit,dreamingaboutit.Wakingupinthenight,sheetsdampwithsweat,thedreamvividinherhead:thehandaroundherthroat,dampwallscontracting,closinginonher.
Thensaltwater;frothing,sloshingoverhermouth,hernose…
Controlit,shetellsherself,forcingherselftoreadthegraffitionthewallofthefunicular.
Don’tletitcontrolyou.
Hereyesdanceoverthescrawledlettersweavingupthemetal:
Michel2010
BISOUSXXX
Ines&RIC2016
Followingthewordsuptothewindow,shestartles.
Herreflection…itpainshertolookatit.She’sthin.Toothin.
It’sasifsomeone’shollowedherout,carvedtheverycoreofheraway.Hercheekbonesareknifesharp,herslantedblue-grayeyeswider,morepronounced.Eventhechoppymessofpaleblondhair,theblurofthescaronherupperlip,doesn’tsoftenherappearance.
She’sbeentrainingnonstopsincehermother’sdeath.
Ten-Kruns.Pilates.Weights.CyclingonthecoastroadbetweenTorquayandExeterintheblisteringwindandrain.
It’stoomuch,butshedoesn’tknowhowtostop,evenifsheshould.It’sallshe’sgot;theonlytactictochaseawaywhat’sinsideherhead.
Elinturnsaway.Sweatpricksthebackofherneck.
LookingatWill,shetriestoconcentrateonhisface,thefamiliarshadowofstubblegrazinghischin,theuntamabledarkblondtuftsofhishair.“Will,I’mburningup.”
Hisfeaturescontract.Shecanseetheblueprintoffuturewrinklesinhisanxiousface;astarburstoflinesaroundhiseyes,lightcreasesrunningacrosshisforehead.
“Youokay?”
Elinshakesherhead,tearsstinginghereyes.“Idon’tfeelright.”
Willlowershisvoice.“Aboutthis,or…”
Sheknowswhathe’stryingtosay:Isaac.It’sboth;him,thepanic,they’reintertwined,connected.
“Idon’tknow.”Herthroatfeelstight.“Ikeepgoingoverit,youknow,theinvitation,outoftheblue.Maybecomingwasthewrongdecision.Ishouldhavethoughtaboutitmore,oratleastspokentohimproperlybeforewelethimbook.”
“It’snottoolate.Wecanalwaysgoback.SayIhadproblemswithwork.”Smiling,Willnudgeshisglassesuphisnosewithhisforefinger.“Thismightcountastheshortest-everholidayonrecord,butwhocares.”
Elinforcesherselftoreturnhissmile,aquietstingofdevastationatthecontrastbetweenthenandnow.Howeasilyhe’sacceptedthis:thenewnormal.
It’stheoppositeofwhenthey’dfirstmet.Backthen,shewaspeaking;that’showshethinksofitnow.Atthepinnacleofhertwentysomethinglife.
She’djustboughtherfirstapartmentnearthebeach,thetopfloorofanoldVictorianvilla.Bijou,buthighceilings,viewsofatinysquareofsea.
Workwasgoingwell—she’dbeenpromotedtodetectivesergeant,landedabigcase,animportantone,hermotherwasrespondingwelltothefirstroundofchemo.ShethoughtshewasontopofhergriefforSam,dealingwithit,butnow..
Herlifehascontracted.Closeddowntobecomesomethingthatwouldhavebeenunrecognizabletoherafewyearsago.
Thedoorsareclosingnow,thickglasspanelsslidingtogether.
Withajolt,thefunicularlurchesupward,awayfromthestation,accelerating.
Elincloseshereyes,butthatonlymakesitworse.
Everysound,everyjudder,ismagnifiedbehindhereyelids.
Sheopenshereyestoseethelandscapeflashingby:blurrystreaksofsnow-coveredvineyards,chalets,shops.
Herheadswims.“Iwanttogetout.”
“What?”Willturns.Hetriestomaskit,butshecanhearthefrustrationinhisvoice.
“Ineedtogetout.”
Thefunicularpullsintoatunnel.Theyplungeintodarkness,andawomanwhoops
Elinbreathesin,slowly,carefully,butshecanfeelitcoming—thatsenseofimpendingdoom.Allatonce,herbloodfeelsstickymovingthroughher,yetalsolikeit’srushingeverywhereatonce.
Morebreaths.Slower,asshe’dtaughtherself.Inforfour,hold,thenoutforseven.
It’snotenough.Herthroatcontracts.Herbreathiscomingshallownow,fast.Herlungsarefighting,desperatelytryingtodraginoxygen.
“Yourinhaler,”Willurges.“Whereisit?”
Scrabblinginherpocket,shepullsitout,pushesdown:good.Shepressesagain,feelstherushofgashitthebackofherthroat,reachherwindpipe.
Withinminutes,herbreathingregulates.
Butwhenherheadclears,they’rethere,inhermind’seye.
Herbrothers.Isaac.Sam.
Images,onloop.
Sheseessoftchildfaces,cheekssmatteredwithfreckles.Thesamewide-setblueeyes,butwhileIsaac’sarecold,unnervingintheirintensity,Sam’sfizzwithenergy,asparkthatdrawspeoplein.
Elinblinks,unabletostopherselfthinkingaboutthelasttimeshesawthoseeyes—vacant,lifeless,thatspark…snuffedout.
Sheturnstothewindow,butcan’tunseetheimagesfromherpast:Isaac,smilingather;thatfamiliarsmirk.
Heholdsuphishands,butthefivesplayedfingersarecoveredinblood.
Elinextendsherhand,butshecan’treachhim.Shenevercan.2
Thehotelminibusiswaitinginthesmallcarparkatthetopofthefunicular.It’sasleekdarkgray,thesmokytintofitswindowssmearedwithsnow.
Discreetsilverletteringisetchedonthebottomleftofthedoor:lesommet.Thelettersarelowercase,understated,afine,blockyfont.
Elinallowsherselftofeelthefirsttwingeofexcitement.Upuntilthispoint,she’sbeencarelesslydismissiveofthehotelinconversationswithfriends:Pretentious.
Styleoversubstance.
Intruth,she’dcarefullypeeledoffIsaac’sPost-it,takingpleasureinthepristinebrochurebeneath,runningherfingersoverthethickmattecardboardofthecover,savoringthenoveltyofeachminimalist,photographedpage.
She’dfeltsomethingstrange,anunfamiliarmixofexcitementandenvy,asenseofhavingmissedoutonsomethingindefinable,somethingshewasn’tevenawarethatshewanted.
Incontrast,Willhadbeenopenlyeffusive,ravingaboutthearchitecture,thedesign.He’dscouredthepages,thengonestraightonlinetoreadmore.
OverlambMadrasthatnight,he’dquoteddetailsatherabouttheinteriordesign:InfluencedbyJosephDirand…Anewkindofminimalism,echoingthebuilding’shistory…Creatinganarrative.
She’salwaysbeenamazedbyWill’scapacityforabsorbingthiskindofintricatedetailandfact.Itmakes
herfeelsafe,somehow,securethathehasalltheanswers.
“MissWarner?Mr.Riley?”
Elinturns.Atall,wirymanisstridingtowardthem.
He’swearingagrayfleeceembossedwiththesamesilverlettering.
LeSommet
“That’sus.”Willsmiles.There’sanawkwardfumbleasthemanreachesforElin’ssuitcaseatthesametimeasWill,beforeWillextractshimself.
“Tripokay?”thedriverasks.“Wherehaveyoucomefrom?”Scoopingupthecases,themanhoiststhemintothebackoftheminibus.
ElinlookstoWilltofillthegaps.Shefindssmalltalklikethisaneffort.
“SouthDevon.Flightwasontime…neverhappens.IsaidtoElinthatit’sSwisstimekeepingkeepingEasyJetonpoint.”Willsmiles—darkeyesrueful,eyebrowsraised.“Shit,thatsoundedclichéd,right?”
Themanlaughs.ThisisWill’smodusoperandiwithstrangers—neutralizethemwithamixofsheerenthusiasmandself-deprecation.Peopleareinvariablydisarmed,thencharmed.Willmakesmomentslikethiseasy.Butthen,shethinks,hoveringbehindhim,that’swhatfirstattractedhertohim—it’shisthing,isn’tit?
Effortless.
Tohim,nothing’sinsurmountable.There’snobravadoinit,it’sjusthowhismindworks—rapidlybreakinganissuedownintological,manageablechunks.
Alist,someresearch,aphonecallortwo—answersfound,problemsolved.Forher,eveneasy,everydaythingsbecamesomethingtobeagonizedoveruntiltheyswelledoutofallproportion.
Takethistrip:she’dstressedovertheflight—thecloseproximitytootherpeopleattheairportandontheplane,thepossibleturbulence,delays.
Eventhepackingbotheredher.Itwasn’tjustthefactthatshe’dneededtobuynewstuff,butthequestionsoverwhatsheshouldbuy—whatweathereventualitiesshouldbecovered,themostsuitablebrands.
Asaresult,everythingofhersisbrand-new,andfeelslikeit.Pushingherfingerdownhertrousers,shetucksintheitchylabelshemeanttolopoffathome
Willhadsimplythrownthingsinhisbag.Ithadtakenlessthanfifteenminutes,buthestillsomehowmanagestolookthepart:batteredhikingboots,blackPatagoniapufferjacket,NorthFacetrousersjusttherightsideofworn-in.
Somehow,though,theirdifferencescomplementeachother.Willacceptsherandherfoibles,andElinisacutelyawarethatnoteveryonewould.She’sgrateful.
Withanexpansive,easygesture,thedriverslidesopenthedoor.Elinclambersinside,castingasidelongglanceattheback.
Oneofthefamiliesfromthefunicularisalreadythere:apairofglossy-hairedteenagegirls,headsdown,watchingatablet.Themotherisholdingamagazine.Thefather,thumbtoscreen,isscrollingthroughhisphone.
ElinandWillsettleintothemiddletwoseats.
“Better?”Willsayssoftly.
Shenods.Itis:cleanleatherseats;noloud,abruptvoices.Andbestofall,amarkedabsenceofdampbodiespackedtightagainsthers.
Thebuscrawlsforward.Turningright,itbumpsovertheunevengroundandoutofthecarpark.
Whentheyreachtheendoftheroad,theycometoafork.Thedrivertakestherightturn,windscreenwipersmovingrapidlytodislodgethefallingsnow.
All’sfineuntiltheymeetthefirstbend.Withonequickmovement,thebusswingsaroundtofacetheoppositedirection.
Asthebusstraightenswithajerk,Elinstiffens.
Theroadisnolongerflankedwithsnowortrees,notevenastripofgrassyverge.Instead,it’sclingingtotheveryedgeofthemountain,withonlyathinmetalbarrierbetweenherandthevertiginousdroptothevalleyfloorbelow.
Besideher,shefeelsWilltense,knowingwhathe’lldonext:hetriestocloakhisuneasewithlaughter,alowwhistlebetweenhisteeth.“Bloodyhell,wouldn’tfancymychancesdrivingthisatnight.”
Thedrivershakeshishead.“Nochoice.It’stheonlywaytogettothehotel.”Heglancesatthemintherearviewmirror.“Itputssomepeopleofffromcoming.”
“Really?”Willputsahandonherknee,pressestoohard,andgivesanotherforcedlaugh.
Thedrivernods.“Thereareforumsaboutitonline.
KidshaveputvideosuponYouTube,filmedthemselvesgoingaroundthebends,screaming.Thecameraanglesmakeitlookworsethanitis.Theysticktheirphoneoutofthewindow,pointitovertheedge,downthedrop…”
Hiswordsfallawayashelooksintentlyattheroadahead.“Thisistheworstpart.Oncewe’rethroughthis…”
Lookingup,Elin’sstomachplummets.Theroadhasnarrowedfurther,barelywideenoughtotaketheminibus.Thetarmacisamurkywhite-gray,shinywithiceinplaces.Sheforcesherselftolooktowardtheraggedhorizonofsnowcappedpeaksahead.
It’soverinamatterofminutes.Astheroadopens,Will’sgriponherlegeases.Fiddlingwithhisphone,hestartstakingphotographsthroughthewindow,foreheadcreasedinconcentration.
Elinsmiles,touchedbythecarehe’staking.He’sbeenwaitingforthismoment—theviewsofthelandscape,thefirstglimpseofthehotel.Sheknowstheseimageswillbetoyedwithonhislaptoplater.Critiqued.Tweakedsomemore.Sharedwithhisartyfriends.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenworkingforthehotel?”Willsays,turningback.
“Justoverayear.”
“Youlikeit?”
Thedrivernods.“There’ssomethingaboutthebuilding,thehistory,itgetsinsideyourhead.”
“Ilookedituponline,”Elinmurmurs.“Icouldn’tbelievehowmanypatientsactually—”
“Iwouldn’tthinktoomuchaboutthat.”Thedrivercutsheroff.“Diggingupthepast,especiallywiththisplace,you’llsendyourselfmad.Ifyougointothedetailsaboutwhatwenton…”Heshrugs,trailingoff.
Elinpicksupherwaterbottle.Hiswordsechoinhermind:Itgetsinsideyourhead.
Italreadyhas,shethinks,picturingthebrochure,thephotographsonline.
LeSommet.
They’reonlyafewmilesaway.3
Slidingherphoneintoherpocket,AdeleBourgpusheshervacuumcleanerthroughthedoorofroom301.
Notthatit’sactuallycalled301.LeSommetistoo…
self-awareforthat.
They’drejectedjustabouteveryAlpinecliché—thefaux-furchaletvibe,“traditional”menus—andthatincludedgettingridofthemundanityofroomnumbers
Instead,thisroom,liketheothers,isnamedafterapeakinthemountainrangeopposite.
BellaTolla.
Adelecanseeitnow.Throughthevastwindows,itsjaggedsummitpuncturesthesky.Thesightburns.ItwasoneofthelastclimbsshedidbeforeshebecamepregnantwithGabriel.August2015.
Sheremembersitall:sun,acloudlesssky.Neon-framedsunglasses.Thescrapeoftheharnessagainstherthighs.Thegrayrock,coolbeneathherfingers.Estelle’stannedlegshighaboveher,contortedintoanimpossibleposition.
Gabriel,herson,nowagethree,wasbornthefollowingJune,theresultofashort-livedflingwithStephane,afellowstudentandmountainlover,duringaweekendinChamonix.Everythingstoppedthen—
climbing,hiking,studyingforherbusinessdegree,pissed-upnightswithherfriends.
Adeleloveshersonwholly,absolutely,butsometimesshestrugglestorememberwhoshewasbefore.Whatherworldwaslikebeforeithadbeendeconstructed,reassembledintosomethingelseentirely.
Responsibilities.Worry.Collectionlettersstackinguponherdesk.Thisjob;themundanerhythmofherdays—
changingsheets,wipingsurfaces,thesuckingupofotherpeople’sdebris.
Adeleswallowshard,bendingdowntoplugthevacuumintothewall.Straightening,shelooksaround.Itwon’ttakelong,shethinks,assessingthedamage.
Adelelikesthisbit,thecalculationoftimeandeffortrequired.It’sanart,theonepartoftheprocessthatrequireshertoengageherbrain.
Hereyesslideacrosstheminimalistsetup:thebed,thelow-slungchairs,theabstractswirlsthatcountaspaintingsontheleft-handwall,thecashmerethrowsinmutedshades
Notbad,shethinks.
Thesepeoplewereneat.Careful.Thebedisbarelyrumpled;thecomplexarrangementofthrowsarrangedacrossthebottomstillundisturbed.
Theonlyvisiblemessisthehalf-emptycupsonthebedsidetables,ablackjacketslungonthechairinthecorner.Shestudiesthewovenbadgeontheupperarm.
MonclerProbablythreethousandfrancsforthat.
Adelealwaysthoughtthatkindofcarelessness—
flingingthejacketonthechair—onlycamewithwealth.
Itwasthesamewiththerooms.Mostoftheguestsseemedoblivioustotheintricaciesanddetailthatelevatedtheserooms—thebespokefurniture,marblebathrooms,thetufted,handwovenrugs.
Shewasalwaysdealingwithsomebody’sthoughtlessfilth—stainedbedsheets,stickyfoodtroddenintorugs.
Adelepicturestheslimy,wrinkledsackofthecondomshe’dfishedoutofthetoiletlastweek.
Thethoughtstings,likeagraze.Adelepushesitaway,plugsherheadphonesintoherears.Shealwayslistenstomusicwhensheworks,fixeshertaskstothebeat.
Herfavoriteplaylistisold-schoolrock,heavymetal.
GunsN’Roses,Slash,Metallica.
She’sabouttoswitchiton,thenstops,noticingachangeoutside,asubtledarkeningtothesky,theveryparticularleadengraythatprecedesheavysnowfall—
ominousinitsuniformity.Snowisalreadyfallingrelentlessly,driftsformingaroundthehotelsignage,thecarsparkedoutfront.
Tinydartsofanxietyflickerinherchest.Ifthestormgetsanyworse,shemighthaveproblemsgettinghome.
Anyothernight,itwouldn’tmatter—herchildcarewasflexible,buttodayGabrielleavesforhisweekwithhisfather.
Sheneedstobebackintimetosaygood-bye,agood-byethatalwayssticksinherthroatasStephanewatches,faceimpassive,hishandalreadyenclosingGabriel’s.
Adark,irrationalfearengulfshereachandeverytimeheleaves—thathemightnotcomeback,mightnotwanttocomeback,thathemightchoose,afterall,tolivewithStephane.
Adelecanseethatfearnow,reflectedintheglass.Herdarkhairisscrapedbackintoahighponytail,revealingapinchedface,heralmond-shapedeyesnarrowedwithworry.Sheturnsawayquickly.Seeingyourselflikethat,shadowy,distorted,it’slikelookingintothedarkestpartsofyoursoul.
Glancingbackatherphone,she’sabouttopressplaywhen,fromthecornerofhereye,shenoticessomethingonthebalustrade.
Asliverofsomethingshinyamongthesnow.
Adelepushesopenthedoor,curious.Freezingairfillstheroomalongwithtinyflakesofwindblownsnow.
Walkingovertothebalustrade,shepicksitup.
Abracelet.
Assheturnsitbetweenherfingers,shecanseeit’smadeofcopper,similartotheonespeoplewearforarthritis.Tinynumberslooptheinterior.Anengraving.
Itmustbeoneoftheguests’,shedecides.She’llputitononeofthebedsidetablessothey’llseeitwhenthey
comein.
Adelegoesbackintotheroom,closingthedoorbehindher.Puttingthebraceletonthenearesttable,shestealsanotherglanceattheheavysnowfall,thegrowingdriftscirclingthebalcony.
Ifshe’slate,Stephanewon’twaitforher.Allshe’llfindisasilentapartmentandanemptinessthatwillconsumeheruntilGabrielishome.4
Elin,areyougoingtocome…?”Will’slastwordislostagainstthesoundoftheflagabove,flappinginthegustingwind.
Thickflakesofsnowplummetfromthesky,settlingonherface.
Herstomachclenches.DespiteWill’spresence,andthehotelinfrontofher,shecan’thelpbutbestruckbytheirisolation—theabsoluteremotenessofthelocation.
Thedrivefromtownhadtakenmorethananhourandahalf.Witheachminutetickingby,thewindingroadsdrawingthemfartherupthemountain,Elincouldn’tshakehergrowingsenseofunease.
Thejourneywasprotractedbecauseofthesnow,butshestillcan’tescapethefactthatthey’realongwayfromcivilization.Apartfromthehotel,allshecanseeisamassoftrees,snow,theshadowybulkofthemountainsloomingoverthem.
“Elin?Areyoucoming?”Willstartswalking,bumpingtheircasesacrossthesnowtowardtheentranceofthehotel.
Shenods,handlockedtightaroundthestrapofherbag.Standingthereinfrontofthehotel,shecanfeelthestrangestthing—adisturbanceintheair,acuriousrestlessnessthathasnothingtodowiththefallingsnow.
Elinlooksaround.Thedrivewayandthecarparkbeyondareempty.
Noone’sthere.
Everyonefromthefunicularhasgoneinside.
It’sthebuilding,shethinks,absorbingthevastwhitestructure.Themoreshelooks,themoreshesensesatension.
Ananomaly.
Shehadn’tnoticeditinthebrochureIsaacsent.Butthen,shethinks,thosephotosweretakenfromadistance,highlightingthescenicbackdrop;thesnow-coveredpeaks,theforestofwhite-frostedfirs.
Theimageshadn’tfocusedonthebuildingitself,howsavageitlooks.
There’snodoubtingitspast—whatitusedtobe.
There’ssomethingbrutallyclinicalaboutthearchitecture,theairoftheinstitutioninthestarklines,therelentlessrectangularplanesandfaces,themodernistflatroofs.Glassiseverywhere,dizzying,wholewallsofit,allowingyoutoseerightin.
Yet,Elinthinks,steppingforward,something’satoddswiththatclinicalfeel,detailsnotvisibleinthebrochure—carvedbalustradesandbalconies,thebeautifulstretchofwoodenverandaonthegroundfloor.
Thisistheanomaly,shethinks,thetensionshe’spickedupon.Thisjuxtaposition…it’schilling.
Institutionbuttingupagainstbeauty.
Probablydeliberate,shethinks,whentheydesignedthebuilding;theintricatedecoranattempttoconcealthefactthatthiswasnotaplacewheresomeonecameforfun.
Thiswasaplacewherepeoplestruggledwithillness,aplacewherepeopledied.
Itmakessensenow,herbrothercelebratinghisengagementhere.
Thisplace,likeIsaac,isallaboutfa?ades.
Coveringupwhatreallyliesbeneath.5
Shit,”Adelemutters,wigglingherkeyinthelock.
Whywouldn’titturn?It’salwayslikethiswhenshe’sinahurry…
Thedoortothechangingroomswingsopen,arushofcoolair.Adeleflinches,dropsherkeys.
“Youokay?”
Aflickerofrelief.Sheknowsthatvoice:Mat,awhite-blondSwede,oneofmanyforeignstaffwhomthehotelemploys.Heworksbehindthebar.Overconfident.Palegreeneyesthatfirstrakeoveryou,thenlookrightthroughyou.
“Fine.”Shecrouches,scoopsupthekeyfob.“I’minarush,that’sall.It’sGabriel’sweekwithhisdad.Hetakeshimtohisplacetonight.Iwantedtobebacktosaygood-bye.”Finallymanagingtoopenthelocker,shepullsoutherbagandcoat.
“They’vejustannouncedthefunicular’sdown.”Matjamshiskeyintohislocker.“Won’tberunninguntilmorning.”
Adelelooksthroughthewindow.Thestormisragingnow,windhowlingasitbattersthesideofthehotel.
“Whataboutthebuses?”
“Stillrunning,butthey’llbebusy.”
He’sright.Bitingdownonherlip,Adelechecksherwatch.
She’smeanttobeinthevalleyinanhour.Ifshehurries,shemightmakeit.
Adelesaysgood-bye,andletsherselfoutthesidedoor.Shepauses,shivering,stunnedbytheforceofthe
wind.It’sstrong,blowingicypelletsofsnowintoherfaceandeyes.Hercheeksareburningfromthecold.
Pullingherscarfuparoundhernose,Adelewalksoutontothesmalltrackleadingtothefrontofthehotel.
Witheverystep,herfeetsinkintothesnow.Itimmediatelystartsseepingthroughthethinleatherofherboots.Idiot.Sheshouldhavewornherpropersnowboots.Herfeetwillbesoakedinminutes.
Carefullyavoidingthebiggermoundsofdriftingsnow,shekeepswalking.Afewfeeton,shefeelsherphonevibrateinherpocket.Shestops,pullsitout.It’samessagefromStephane:Leavingworknow.Seeyousoon.
Work.
Thewordstirsupafamiliar,bitterresentment.Adelehatesherselfforit.
Sheknowsit’snogooddwellingonwhatmighthavebeen—theclimbupthecareerladder,theaccompanyingsalary,thetravel,butshecan’thelpit.
Howevershetriestopositionitinhermind,makejustifications,it’sblatantlyclearthatit’sshewhohasmadethesacrifices,notStephane.Hedidn’thavetogiveuphisplanswhenGabrielwasborn,hisplaceatcollege.
HegraduatedwithtophonorsandgotajobrightawayatamultinationalinVeveyworkinginbrandmanagement.
Stephanewashighlyrated,doingwell.Earningevenbetter.
Hisgirlfriendworksforthesamecompany,pullinginanequallyimpressivesalary,Adelecantell.Liseisn’tflashy,butthesubtlyexpensivegroomingandinnateconfidencespeakforthemselves.
This,shecanjustaboutcopewith—it’sapetty,sillyenvy,nothingmore,butit’sthepotentialeffectonGabrielthatbothersher.Adeleknowsitwon’tbelongbeforeGabrielstartsnoticingthedifferencesbetweenhisparents’jobs
Partofherisscaredthathe’lllookdownonher—thathe’llseeher,andwhatshecangivehim,asinferiortowhatStephanecanprovide.
Adeleknowsit’sstupidtothinkaheadlikethis,becauseatthemomenteverythingGabrielloveshasnothingtodowithmoney:snugglesandbooksbeforebed.Hotchocolatewithwhippedcream.Jointplayinthesandbox.Sledding.
Shesmilestoherselfassheremembersthetriplastweek.Squeezedontothesledtogether,thetwoofthemhadbuiltupsomuchmomentumthatthey’dcareeredoutofcontrolintothefenceatthebottomofthehill.
Gabrielendedupspread-eagledontopofher,laughinghysterically.
Thememoryinstantlyputsheranxietiesintoperspective.Pullittogether,shetellsherself,steppingsidewaystoavoidafallenbranch.Stopthinkingtheworst.
It’sthenthatshefeelssomethingonherankle,apressure.
Hasshecaughtitonsomething?Anotherbranch?
Glancingdown,shefreezes.Aglovedhandisaroundherankle.
There’sasuddentug,jerkingherbackward.
Adelelandsface-firstinsoft,powderysnow.
Tiny,icyparticlesfillhermouthandeyes.6
ThewhitependantsdanglingfromtheceilingremindElinofahangman’snoose.
Thewiresaresolongtheytraverseforseveralyards,cablehangingslackinthemiddlebeforedescendingfartheron.Thependantitselfisnothingmorethanaviolentspasmofwireforminganintricateloop.
Undoubtedlyhideouslyexpensive,anartisticstatementshedoesn’t“get,”buthoweveryouseeit,it’sstrange,Elinthinks,tohavethatinahotelreception.
Somethingsosinister,inwhat’smeanttobeawelcomingspace.
Therestofitisn’tmuchbetter—leatherchairsarrangedaroundanarrowwoodentable,alargeslabofgraystoneforthereceptiondesk.Eventhepaintingoverthefireplaceisbleak;swirlsofgrayandblackpaintangrilysmearedacrossthecanvas.
“Whatdoyouthink?”ElinnudgesWill.“Anarchitect’sdream?”Shecanalreadypredictthewordshe’llquotelater:boundarypushing,soulful,immersive.
Elin’sabsorbedthesewordsbyosmosisbecausetohertheyholdakindofpoetry.HowWilltalksaboutarchitecture,howhefindsallthatwonderinbricksandmortar,revealssomuchabouthowhethinksandfeels.
“Loveit,”hereplies.“Buildingslikethishadamassiveeffectontwentieth-centuryarchitecture.Featurespeopleassociatewithmodernismwereusedforthefirsttimeinsanatoriums.”Willstops,takinginherexpression.“Youdon’tlikeit,doyou?”
“Idon’tknow.Tome,itfeelscold.Clinical.Suchabigspace,andthere’shardlyanythinginhere.Afewchairs,
tables.”
“It’sdeliberate.”Elinhearstheslighttensioninhiswords—he’sfrustratedthatshedoesn’tgetitrightaway.
“Thewhitewalls,wood,thenaturalmaterials.It’sanodtothesanatorium’soriginaldesign.”
“Sotheywantittoseemsterile?”Itseemsstrangetoher:thatanyonewoulddeliberatelydesignsomethingtobedevoidofanywarmth,comfort.
“Itwasahygienething,buttheyalsothoughtthatwhitewashinghelpedbringan‘innercleanliness.’”Hemakesquotemarkswithhisfingers.“Architectsthenwereexperimentingwithusingdesigntoinfluencehowpeoplefelt.Abuildinglikethiswasusedasamedicalinstrumentinitself,everydetailcustomdesignedtohelppatientsrecover.”
“Whataboutallthisglass?I’mnotsureitwouldhelpme.”Elinlooksthroughthevastwindowatthesnowbeingwhippedintoafury,thedriftscreepingpasttheframe.Hardlyanybarrierbetweenherandtheoutsideworld.Despitethewarmthcomingfromthefire,sheshivers.
Willfollowshergaze.“Theythoughtnaturallight,thebigviewsofthelandscape,werehealing.”
“Maybe.”Asshelookspasthim,hereyesalightonaglassboxhangingfromtheceilingbyathinmetalwire.
Walkingover,shefindsasmallsilverflaskinside.Afewwordsoftextarewrittenbelow,inbothFrenchandEnglish.
CRACHOIR—SPITTOON.Commonlyusedbypatientstoreducethespreadofinfection.
ShebeckonstoWill.“You’retellingmethat’snotweird?Hanginghere,likesomestrangeartinstallation.”
“Thiswholeplaceisaninstallation.”Touchingherarm,hesoftenshistone.“It’snotthat,isit?You’renervous,aren’tyou?Aboutseeinghimagain.”
Elinnods,leaningintohim,breathinginthefamiliar,comfortingsmellofhisaftershave—pepperybasiland
thyme,aslightsmokiness.“It’sbeennearlyfouryears,Will.Thingschange,don’tthey?I’vegotnoideawhoheis,notanymore.”
“Iknow.”Heholdshertight.“Butdon’toverthinkit.
Putthepastinthepast.Youcominghere,it’safreshstart.NotjustwithIsaac,butwiththeHaylercasetoo.
It’stimetodrawaline.”
It’ssoeasyforWill,Elinthinks.Asanarchitect,everydayisablankpage.He’salwaysstartingover,creatingsomethingnew.
Itwasthisqualitythatstruckherthefirsttimetheymet.Howfreshheseemed.Unjaded.Elinwonderedifshe’devermetanyonetrulylikethatbefore—optimistic,excitedbylife.Excitedbyeverylittlething.
Thedaythey’dmet,she’dbeenrunning.She’dfinishedhershift,ashiftshe’dspentmainlyatherdeskchurningthroughpaperwork,andhaddecidedtorunthecoastpath,fromherapartmentinTorhuntowardBrixham.Aneasy10Kthereandback.
Stoppingtostretchonthepromenadeabovethebeach,she’dspottedWillbythewall,smokecoilingaroundhim,suspendedinthesaltystilloftheair.
Hewasbarbecuing—fish,peppers,chickenthatsmelledlikecuminandcoriander.
Elinfelthiseyesonherrightaway.Aminuteorsolater,hecalledover,madeajoke.Somethingclichéd.
LookslikeI’vegotiteasierthanyou.She’dlaughed,andthey’dstartedtalking.
Shewasattractedtohimimmediately.Therewasanunusualcomplexityabouthisappearance,somethingthathadsimultaneouslyintimidatedandexcitedher.
Scruffyblond-brownhair,blackScandinavian-styleglasses,ashort-sleevednavychevronshirtbuttoneduptotheneck.
Notherusualtype.
Itmadesensewhenhetoldherwhathedid—anarchitect.Hetoldherdetails,eyeslightingupashe
spoke—hewasadesigndirector,hisspecialinterestsweremixed-usedevelopments,waterfrontregeneration.
Hepointedoutthenewrestaurant/housingcomplexalongtheseafront—agleaming,grounded,whitecruiselinerofabuildingthatsheknewhadbeenfeted,wonawards.Hesharedthathelikedpeanutbutterandmuseums,surfingandCoke.Whatstruckherwashoweasyitwas.Therewasnoneoftheusualawkwardnessyougotwithstrangers.
ElinknewitwasbecauseWillwascompletelyateasewithhimself.Shedidn’thavetosecond-guess—hewasanopenbook,andsoshe,inturn,openeduptohiminawayshehadn’tforalongtime.
Theyexchangednumbers;hecalledherthatnight,thenthenext.Noangst.Nogameplaying.Heaskedherquestions:demandingquestionsaboutpolicing,thepoliticsoftheforce,herexperiences.
Elinsoongotthesensethathedidn’tseeherthewayshehadalwaysseenherself.Theeffectwasalmostdizzying;itmadeherwanttoliveuptowhathesawinher,orwhathethoughthesaw.
Withhim,shedidnewthings:galleries,museums,undergroundwinebarsoffthequaysideinExeter.Theytalkedart,music,ideas.Boughtcoffee-tablebooksandactuallyreadthem.Plannedweekendsawaywithminimalfuss.
Noneofwhichshewasusedto.Herlifehad,upuntilthispoint,beenresolutelyuncultured:SaturdaynightswatchingTV,readingtrashymagazines.Curries.Thepub.
Butsheshouldhaveknownitcouldn’tlast,thattherealElinwouldcomeouteventually.Theloner.Theintrovert.Theonewhofounditeasiertorunthangiveherhandaway.
Itmadeherangry,inaway,howlooselyshe’dhelditall,thosefewmonthswhereeverythingworked.Ifshe’dknownitwasallsofinelybalanced,soclosetocrashingdown,she’dhavehelditcloser,tighter.
Withinweeks,everythingchanged:itallcametogether,aperfectmaelstrom.Hermother’streatmentstoppedworking.Shegotanewboss,achallengingcase.
Underpressure,shedefaulted—closedup,refusedtoconfidewhatshewasfeeling.Almostimmediatelyshefeltsomethingshiftintheirrelationship.Whoshehadbecome,itwasn’tenoughforhim,didn’tmakesense.
Theboundariesshe’dputontherelationship,boundarieshe’dseemedhappywithatfirst—thefactthatsheneededherspace,herindependence,certaineveningswhereshesimplyjustwantedtobe—werenolongerworking.
Elinfelthimsubtlytestingher,likeachildprobingawobblytooth—aworknightout,aholidaywithhisfriends.Morenightsstayingoverathis.
Shesensedthatifhecouldn’tgetwhathealwayshadfromher,thenhewantedsomethingelsetoputinitsplace—anotherpartofhershehadn’tofferedupbefore.
Commitment.Certainty.
Willwantedtheirlivestomix,merge,becomeenmeshed.
Itcametoaheadsixmonthsago.IntheirfavoriteThaispot,heaskedwhatshethoughtaboutmovingoutoftheirrespectiveplaces,findingsomewheretogether
We’vebeentogetherovertwoyears,Elin,itisn’tunreasonable.
Sheputhimoff,gaveexcuses,butsheknowshispatiencewon’tlastforever.Shehastomakeadecision.
Timeisrunningout.
“Els…”
Sheturns,sucksinherbreath.
Isaac.
Isaac’shere.7
Adelescrabblesforwardonherknees,fearsurgingthroughher.
Thegriponherankleslackens.Shehearsagrunt,franticrustling—nowordsofapology,nothingtoindicatethatitwasanaccident.
Someonehadbeenlurkinginthedarkness.Waitingtotripherup.
Questionscrowdherhead,butshepushesthemaside.
Shehastogetaway.Escape.
Haulingherselfforward,Adelepullsherselftoherfeet,startingtorun.Shedoesn’tdareturnback.Hereyesrakeovertheinkyblackofthelandscapearoundher.
Think,Adele,think
Goingbacktothehotelwon’twork.She’llhavetodigoutherpasswhenshegetstothedoor—it’lltaketoolong.Herattackerwillcatchup.
Theforest.
Ifshecangetintothetrees,thedarknessofthetreecanopy,thenmaybeshe’lllosethem.Runningasfastasshecanupthesmallinclineleadingtothetreeline,Adelehearsfootstepsbehindher.
Shemighthavetheadvantagehere:sheknowsthispath—she’swalkedhereinthesummer.Thetrailwindslazilyupthroughtheforest,overstreamsthatgushdownthehillside,bringingtheglaciermeltwaterdownthevalley.
Severaltracksleadoffthemainone.Mountainbikepathsinthesummer.
She’lldivert,headontooneofthem.Trytoloseherattackerthatway.
Adelerunsupthepath,adrenalinepumping,bootssloughingthroughthesnow.Withinminutes,herchestisheaving,herbreathingfast,erratic,butshe’slosingthem,shecantell.Shecan’thearthemanymore.
Twentyyardson,sheputsherplanintoaction.Shedartsleft,tucksinbehindasmallclusteroffirs,plungingintoshadow.Sweattricklesdownherbackinsidehercoat.Shehardlydarestobreathe.
Whatifherattackermakesoutherfootprintsinthesnow?Shemightleadthemdirectlytoher….Shecanonlyhopethattheinconsistentsnowcover,piledupindriftsaroundrocksandfallenbranches,hasactedasafoil.
Finally,shehearsthemgopast,thesoft,steadythudsofsomeonerunning,kickingupsnow.Shedecidestodoublebackonherself,andsprintsacrossthepath,divingontothesmalltrackontheright.Sheglancesbehindhertotrytoseewhereherpursueris,buthereyesjustfindmoretrees,snow.Theforestistoodense.
Pushingasidebrancheswithherarms,Adelemovesslowly,carefullythroughthetrees.Shefreezes.Asuddenmovementontheleft.Hereyesflickertowardit.
Relieffloodsthroughherasamarmotspringsoutofamoundofsnow.Twitchingitsfur,dislodgingafewwhiteflakes,itpauses,lookingather,thendartsoffbetweenthetrees.
Anothermovement.Anothersound.
Thistime:amuffledcough.
Shit.They’vefoundher.
Hermindraces.
Thehut…theonethehotelusesforstorage.She’ssureit’sjustbelow,parallelwiththispath.Ifshecanmakeitafewyardsfarther,shecouldhidethere.Itmightbelocked,butthere’sachance.
Moresounds.Breathing.
Keepcalm,shetellsherself.You’reclosenow.
Adeleinchesbackward.
Silence.
Shedecidestomakehermove.
Shewalksslowlydownhill,hereyesscouringthegapsbetweenthetreesforthehut,butthere’snothingthere.
Onlymoreforest.Moresnow.
Adelecursessoftlyunderherbreath.She’scometoohigh,hasn’tshe?Toofarupthefirstpath.Thisisadifferenttrackentirely….
Tearsstinghereyes.It’sthesnow.That’swhyshe’smadethemistake.It’sfilledinalltheusuallandmarks;thefamiliarrocks,treestumps,clearings.She’llhavetogobackontothemainpath.Backthewayshecame.
Hearingthedullcrackofatwigsnapping,Adelewhirlsaround.
Afigureisstandinginfrontofher.Afacelessfigure.
Sheblinks,thetearsinhereyesmakinghervisiongoinandoutoffocus.Adream,shethinks,wipinghereyes.
Perhapsthat’sallthisis.Maybeshe’dlaindownonthebedinthatlastroom,fallenasleep…
Butwhenhersightclears,Adelerealizesthatthisisnodream,nohalf-awakehallucination.
Thereasonthepersonisfacelessisbecauseheorsheiswearingamask.
Fromtheside,itresemblesasurgicalmask;thinstrapsbisectingtheircheek,pulledtautaroundthebackofthehead,butfromthefront,Adelerealizesit’smorethanthat.Agasmask,shethinks,withacoldfeelingofdread,takinginthewide,ribbedtubeextendingfromthemouthtothenose.Akindofpeculiargasmask…
It’shuge,completelyobscuringtheirface.Shecan’tmakeoutanydistinguishingfeatures.
Thefigureissteppingforwardnow,movingtowardher.Adelefeelsherkneesgiveway.
Nomorerunning.Shecan’trunanymore.8
Elinstiffens.Thisiswrong,shethinks.Sheshouldn’thaveagreedtocome.
Isaactakesastepforward,hesitating,thenfinallypullshertowardhim.
Ashockwavemovesthroughher.Hishairisagainstherface,longer,darkcurlsnearlypasthisjaw.Hesmellsdifferent,too,tobacco,anunfamiliarsoap.
Elincloseshereyes.Toolate.Imagesrushin.
Aglimmering,white-cappedsea.Water,thickwithseaweed,sloshinginsideredbuckets.Seagullscaterwauling.
Withdrawing,Isaacmeetshergaze,astrangemixtureofemotionsinhiseyes.
Love?Fear?It’simpossibletotell.Shecannolongerreadhisface;timehasblurredhersenseofhim.Theideastings—theonlyrealfamilyshe’sgotleft,andpartofhimisstrangetoher.
Asheclearshisthroat,hisfingerscomeuptohiseyelid,scratchingintothecorner,nearthetearduct.Afamiliargesture:he’sgoteczema.Flare-upsthroughoutchildhood.Avarietyoftriggers:heat,syntheticclothing,stress.
“Wesawpeoplegettingoffthefunicular.Laurewasconvincedyouwouldn’thavemadethisone,butIwantedtocheck.”
“Weendedupgettingtheearliertrain.”Elinforcesthewordsout.Shelookspasthim.“Where’sLaure?”
“Shehadtogoandseeherbossaboutsomethingfortheparty.Shewon’tbelong.”
IsaacturnstoWill.“Goodtofinallymeetyou,mate.”
HevigorouslypumpsWill’shandbeforeleaningin—ahalfhug,whichIsaacdominates,hislefthandcomingaroundtoWill’sback.Two,threeheartypats.Ablokeygesture,butapowermoveallthesame.Thesubtlemovementintohisbodyspace,thetakingofcontrol.
Will’soblivious,hisfaceopen,smiling.“Goodtomeetyou,too,andcongrats.Bignews…”
“Icouldsaythesame.You’vedonetheimpossible,haven’tyou?”
Willhesitates,uncertain.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Elin.”Isaacnodstoher.
There’sapause.Willstiffens,doingthethingsheonlydoeswhenhefeelsthreatened—pullingbackhisshoulderstobroadenhischest,juttingouthisjaw.
Colorrisesinhischeeks.Anunfamiliarcolor,becauseWilldoesn’tdoembarrassed,butthenIsaac’salwaysbeenabletodothis:wrong-footpeople.Putthemonedge.
“You’vemanagedtopinmysisterdown.”Isaac’slaughsplintersthesilence.“Ithoughtitwouldneverhappen.
Mindyou,shealwayswasadarkhorse.”
It’saclichédjoke,sotheylaugh,butElinknowswhathe’sdoing.He’sshowingherthathestillknowsher,canreadher.He’sshowingherwhoisincharge.
“Icouldsaythesame,couldn’tI?”sheretorts,butassoonasshesaysthewords,sheregretsit.Herresponseisdelayed,louder,brittler,tooobviouslylacedwithsomething,andfallsflat.Shelooksaway,herneckburning.
Willchangesthesubject.“Whendidyouarrive?”
“Afewdaysago.Weweregoingtoski,buttheyclosedthelifts.”Isaacgesturesattheswirlingsnowoutside.
“It’sbeenlikethissincewegothere.”
Skiing.He’sgood,Elinremembers;agapyearinFrancebeforehispostgrad,thenholidays.Hediditthe
hardway—worked,saved,workedagain.Neitherofthemhaditeasy—noinheritanceorparentalfundtodrawon.
Helooksfit,shethinks,examiningthelinesoflean,sinewymusclevisiblethroughhisshirt.Strong.Likeher,hisfaceisthinner,moredefined,newlines,buthisblueeyesareunchanged;wide,guileless.Unreadable.Herschoolfriendswouldsayhehadn’tchanged.Stilllookssubtlystubbled,disheveled.Forevertheindieboydrummer.
“Whendoeseveryoneelsearrivefortheparty?”
“Afewdays.”Isaacshiftsfromfoottofoot.“Wethoughtitwouldbeniceifyoucameoutfirst.Apre-engagementparty.Somefamilytime.”
Helightlytoucheshernecklace.“Stillwearingit?”
Flinching,Elinnods,instinctivelyenclosingthesoftloopofsilverinherhand,awayfromhistouch.
“Sowhatdoyouthinkofthisplace?”Isaacmoveshishandaway,gesturesaroundhim.“Thehotel.”
Elinstiffens.Sheknowsthistone;hewantsareaction.
Thefactthatitusedtobeasanatorium,thestudiedminimalism…hewantshertofindituncomfortable.
“It’sfantastic.Unique.”Reachinguptopushherhairawayfromherface,sherealizeshowshortitis.Anewthing,afterhermotherdied.
“AndWill?Thearchitect’sview?”
Will’sbackonfamiliarground,usingallthewordsshepredictedandmore—crisp,well-executed,aperfectrestraint.Whilehe’sspeaking,shewatchesIsaac.
Partofhimhasn’tchanged,shethinks.Hisattention’salreadywandering,hisgazeimperceptiblymovingtoher
Asingle,loadedglance.Somuchisgoingoninit:he’sshowingthathe’sboredbyWill,thatheknowsshe’sawareofit,andevenworse,thatheknowsWillhasn’tclockedit.He’sontop.
Afewminuteslater,Willturns.“Elin,IwasaskingIsaacabouttheproposal.”
“Yes,”shereplies,“I—”Butshedoesn’tgetthechancetofinish.
Avoice:“Functional…that’showI’ddescribeit.Aring,inmyskiboot.”
Laure.Theresheis,behindIsaac.Smiling,slightlyflushed.ShelooselyembracesElinbeforesteppingback,greetingWill.
ShenoticesWilltakeherin;amicroexpressionofapprovalthatheswiftlysquashes.Elinfeelsaboltofjealousy.She’sseenrecentphotosofLaure,buttheydidn’tdoherjustice:shehasthetypeoffacethatonlycomesaliveinperson.Herfeaturesarebold,uncompromising;darkeyes,aperfectlystraightfringestoppingjustshortofthick,well-contouredbrows.
She’schanged.There’sapoise,acomposuretoherthatshedidn’thavebefore.TheLauresherememberswasmorerelaxed,herfaceartless,fullofaneasyopenness.Nowherfeaturesseemonatighterleash.
She’swearingthingsElinwouldneverhaveconsidered,shethinks,tryingnottostareattheartyensemble;high-waistedgrayjeans,severaltanktops,layered.Afine-knitlime-greencardiganisslungoverthetop.Ascarf,alsogray,isdrapedlooselyaroundherneck.
Silverbraceletsloopherwrist.
“Sorryfortheshortnotice.”Laureshrugs.“Itwasallsolast-minute.”
Anunderstatement.Elinhadreceivedtheinvitationonlyamonthago;aparcel,andinside,aneonPost-itstucktothetopofthesimple,mattebrochure:IsaacWarnerandLaureStrehlareengaged&havingaparty.Here…Anarrowpointedtothebrochurebeneath.Youonlyneedtopayforflights—
Laureworksinthehotel.Letmeknow.Isaac.
Theinvitewasunexpected.SinceIsaacleftforSwitzerlandoverfouryearsago,contacthadbeensporadicatbest.Afewe-mails,ararephonecall.He’dtoldthembitsandpieces—gettingtogetherwithLaure,
hislecturingjobattheuniversityinLausanne,butthatwasit.Monthscouldpasswithoutthembeingintouch.
Eventheirmother’sfuneralhadn’tdrawnhimback.
Flimsyexcuses:Can’tleavework.Emergencywithastudent.Thememory,sour,roughedged,makesherwanttoswallowhard;likeapieceofgristlymeatshecan’tgetdown.
Laure’swatchingherwithaquizzicalexpression.“Youdon’tlooklike”—shehesitates,rearrangesherwords—“Iremember…”Again,shetrailsoff.
“What?”Elinreplies,voicebrittle.“Yourememberedwhat?”
Lauresmileslazily.“Nothing.It’sbeenages,that’sall.”
Willgivesherasharplook.Sheknowswhy:shehadn’ttoldhimthatsheknewLaure.Thattheyhadhistory.
“Wewerewondering,doyouwanttohavedinnertogethertonight?”Isaacsays.“Ifyou’retired,wecanalwaystakearaincheck.”
“No.We’dlikethat.Whattime?”Sheflushes,embarrassedbyhereagerness.
“Sevenish?”Heshrugs“Beforethat,we’llgiveyouthetour.I—”
Hedoesn’tgettofinishhissentence.There’saloudbang,thesoundofglassshattering.Ablastofcoldairfloodstheroom.Thelowhumofchatterstops.
Silence.
Elinturns,heartpounding.Asidewindowisswingingwildlyonitshinge.Shardsofglasslittertheflooralongwithaspreadingpoolofwater,hugewhitelilies.
Eventhoughsheknowsthere’snothreat—it’sawindowblownopen,avaseknockedover—herpulseisstillracing,adrenalinefloodingherbody.Elinfeelsherhandsclench,fingernailsdiggingintoherpalm.
Astaffmemberappears,closesthewindow,movespeopleawayfromthedebris.Elinunfurlsherhands,looksdownatthem.
Shecanmakeouttheimprintofnailsonherpalm.
Half-moons.Perfectcrescents.9
Outside,thestormisbuilding.Snowisbeingwhippedbythewindintoafury,sendingitlashingagainsttheglass.Itdoesn’tdistractLaure.
She’sslick,efficient,seamlesslymovingthemaroundthehotel.Restauranttolounge,librarytobar.
Moreglass.Thesamestarkwhitewalls,austeredesign.
“Lastbutnotleast.”Laureleadsthemtotheendofthecorridor,pushesopenadoor.“Thespa.”
Inside,thereceptionspaceisvast,onewallcladinhugeslabsofgraymarble,veinedwithdarkstreaks.
Anotherabstractinstallationhangsfromtheceilingabovethereceptionist—acomplextangleofmetalwires,studdedwithtinylights.
Laurerunsherfingeroveroneofthewalls.“ThewallsareallfinishedinMarmorinoplaster.It’smadeofmarbledustandlimeputty.Theeffect,it’slikesuede.It’sdesignedtocatchthelight,changeasthedaygoeson.
It’ssimilartotheeffecttheytriedtoachieveonthesanatoriumwalls—theyweremattetoreduceglareforthepatients,butstilllight.”
Despitethespace,thehighceiling,it’sunbearablywarm,theairthickwiththescentofmintandeucalyptus.Elin’seyesdarttoonecorneroftheroom.
Anotherglassboxissuspendedfromtheceiling.Inside,there’sahelmetwithapeakedbrimmadeofwhatlookslikebrass.Walkingover,shereadsthetextinside.
CLIASHELMET.Afireman’shelmetadaptedtobecomeaweighthelmet.Usedforstrengtheningneckmuscles.
Isaacfollowshergaze.“Partof‘thenarrative.’”Hemakesquotationmarkswithhisfingers.“Allthecommunalspaceshavethem.Artifactsfromtheoldsanatorium.”
Shenods,disconcerted.
Lauremurmurssomethingtothewomanatthedesk,turnsback.“Margot,ourspareceptionist,willdoapropertourlater,butI’lljustshowyouthepool.Theshowpiece.”Hervoiceisloud,patrician.Asassistanthotelmanager,she’sclearlyusedtotakingcharge.
Elinimaginesherwithguests,staff.Answeringquestions.Issuinginstructions.Watchingher,she’sseizedbyasenseofinadequacy:Arewereallythesameage?Laureseemsolder;agrown-up,aleader.Butthen,shethinks,maybeshealwayswas.
Sheremembersthefirsttimetheymet;eight-year-oldLauresmallandwiry,twothickplaitslikeropesdownherback.Laureinstinctivelyknewherroleintheworld:commander,planner,theonetothinkupgames,designateroles.You’rethemermaid.I’mthepirate.
Otherkidswouldimmediatelyacquiesce,desperatetobepartofthegame.
Elinknewwhy;Lauregaveoffavibeshe’dnevermastered.Notgivingashit.
Laurewassecureinwhoshewas.Therewassomethingdefiniteabouther,asolidityanchoringhertotheworldthatElinenvied.Shewastheopposite;shecaredtoomuch,frettedabouteverylittlething:Wasshetooquiet?Tooloud?Notenough?
Yettheirdifferencesnevercamebetweenthem.Theirfriendshipwastight,fiercelyprotectedbythemboth,byElinespecially,becauseLaurewasherfirstproperfriend.Thefirstgirlwhogother,didn’ttrytochangeher,laughatherfornotbeinglikethem.
Andlookhowyourepaidher,avoicegrindsoutinherhead.Sheacceptedyou,befriendedyou,andlookwhatyoudid.
Laureopensalargedoorontheright.Followingherinside,Elinblinks,blindedbythelightfloodingthespace.Floor-to-ceilingglasswrapsthepoolonallsides,sothefirstthingsheseesisn’tthewater,buttheswirlingsnowoutside,thevastexpanseofsteelysky.
Justbeyondtheglass,shecanmakeoutawoodenterraceandseveraloutdoorpools.Thefirst,sittingjustbeyondtheglass,issteaming,blurrycoilssnakinglazilyintotheair.
Willwhistlesbetweenhisteeth.“Iwasn’texpectingthat.”
“Theyextendedattheendofthebuildingtomaximizethisview.”Laure’svoiceechoesout.“Allthisglass,it’sdeliberate.Whentheweather’sgoodyou’vegota360-degreeviewofthemountains,thenaturallight…”
“IwastellingElinaboutthefocusonlightintheoriginaldesign.”Will’sstilllookingout.“Theythoughtithelpedrecovery,didn’tthey?”
“Yes.”Laureturns.“ThestandardofcareforTBatthetimewasmainlyenvironmental.Freshair,sunlight.
Ultravioletrayswerebelievedtobehealing,sotheysatpatientsoutonthebalconiesandterraces,eventhroughthewinter,totakeinthesun.”
Elinisstrugglingtotakeitallin:Snow.Theshimmeringwater.
It’sdizzying.Shestillfeelshorriblyexposed;thatnothingseparatesthemfromthestormragingoutside.
Sherubsathertemplesandturnsawayfromtheglass,theswirlingmassofsnow
“El?Youokay?”Willsays.
“Fine.Justabitlightheaded.”
“It’sprobablythealtitude,”Lauresays.“We’rehigh,forahotel.Morethanseventy-twohundredfeet.”
“Idon’tthinkit’sthat,”Isaacsaysslowly.“Youusedtobelikethisasakid,ifwewentsomewherenew,youfeltuncomfortable.”
“Isaac,stop.”Thewordsaresharperthansheintended.“Howisthatrelevant?I’mhardlyachildanymore,amI?”
Heholdsuphishands,flattenshispalmsinsurrender.“Chill,Iwasjust…”Heshakeshishead.
Watchinghim,angerspikesinherchest.Thisbrotherlyconcern,it’sanact;she’dclockedthefleeting,superiorsmile.
Askids,he’ddothisallthetime:fliptheconversationtoexposeher,layherbare.Sherememberstellinghermotheroverdinneraboutafriendshe’dmade,Isaacimmediatelycounteringwithsomethingderogatory:Isn’tthatthenewgirl?Thatweirdone,who’salwaysonherown?
Willtakesherhand,squeezes.“Shallwego?”
Grateful,Elinnods,lookstothepoolitself.It’sbigforahotel,floorandwallspatternedwiththesamegraymarbletiles.Tinyveinsflickerupthemlikeflames.
Shimmeringmiragesofthesnow-coveredtreesoutsidearereflectedinthewater.
Alonewomaninablackswimsuitisdoinglengths,hermuscularbodyilluminatedinthespotlightsbeneaththewater.Herlimbsslicerhythmicallythroughthewater:anathlete’sfreestyle.
Isaacfrowns.“Isn’tthatCecile?”
Followinghisgaze,Laurestiffens.
“Cecile?”Elinechoes,intrigued.
“CecileCaron.Thehotelmanager,”Lauresays.Hervoiceistight.“She’sthesisteroftheowner.Sheswimseveryday.Shecompetedatanationallevel.”
“She’sgood,”Elinsays,transfixedbythewoman’seasyprowess.
“Doyoustilllikeswimming?”Laurechangesthesubject.
Elinshakesherhead,flushes,heatchasingupherback.
Thatfamiliarrushoffeelingconsumesher:embarrassment,fear,frustration.
Assheturnsaway,ithitsher:IsaacnevertoldLaurehowthingschangedafterSamdied.
Hehasn’ttoldheranyofit.10
It’sarelieftoexitthepoolarea.Exhalinghard,Elinleansagainstthewall.Herbreathingisheavy,labored.
What’swrongwithher?Thisismeanttobeabreak,achancetorelax.It’sthedisadvantageofnotworking,hermindsimultaneouslyoveractiveandunderused.
Butthat’smychoice,shethinks,hermindleapingtothee-mailshereceivedfromherdetectivechiefinspector,Anna,aweekago.
SpoketoJo.NeedyourdecisionattheendofthemonthxxTwoweeks.Twoweekstodecideifshewantstoendherleave,togoback.
Elinhasn’trepliedyet.Doesn’tknowwhattheansweris.SheremembersthelasttimeshespoketoAnna,thefrustrationanddisappointmentlacinghervoice.
You’retoogoodadetectivetoletthistakeover,Elin.
Detective.
Eventhewordisraw.Itmeanstoomuch.Notjusthopesanddreams,butbloodandsweatandslog—timeinuniform,exams,interviews.
Nowit’sallinquestion.
Pushingthethoughtaway,shefollowsLaurebackdownthecorridor.Justaheadtwomenaredeepinconversation.
Laureslows.ElinnoticesherexchangeaglancewithIsaac.
“Who’sthat?”sheasks.
“Oneofthestaff,withthehotelowner,LucasCaron.”
Laurebrushesanonexistenthairawayfromherface.
Herhandisshaking.
She’sflustered.Why?
“Wasn’themeanttobeaway?”Isaacmurmurs.
Laurenods.“WithCecile.Theyweren’tduebackuntilnextweek.”
Will’sstilllookingatoneofthemen,theblondwiththebeard.“Sothat’stheman…LucasCaron…”
Hisgazelingers.Elinfollowsit,seesimmediatelywhat’scaughthisinterest.
LucasCaronisstriking;veryobviouslysomeonepowerful,important.Aboss.
He’stall,athleticlooking,butitisn’thisstaturethat’sgivingoffthepowervibe;it’shiswide-leggedstance,thebigexpansivegestures.Onlypeoplewithinfluence,money,possessthatkindofinbuiltbeliefthattheyhavetherighttotakeupthatmuchspace.
Hishikingboots,thecasual,technicalclothes—grayfleece,climbingtrousers—onlyaddtoit,acallingcard:I’mimportantsoIdon’tneedtosignalthatIam.
“You’veheardofhim?”Isaacreplies.
Willnods.“There’schatterinthearchitectureworld…thedisruptioninhisstyle,approach.”Hehesitates.“Ifit’snottoomuchtrouble,itwouldbegoodtogetanintroductionatsomepoint.”
“I’msureLaurecansortit,butI’dbecareful.”Isaac’stoneislight.“Hedoesn’thavemuchluckwitharchitects.”
“Isaac.”Laureflasheshimawarninglook.
“DanielLemaitre?”Willsaysquickly.
Isaacraisesaneyebrow.“Youknowaboutit?”
Willsmiles.“Architecture’sasmallworld.Stillnonews?”
“Nothing,”Laurereplies.
“Whathappened?”Elinsays,stillwatchingLucasCaron.
“Danielwastheprincipalarchitectforthehotel.Hewentmissinginthefinalstagesofplanning.Didn’tmakeithomeonenight.Leftthesiteintheafternoon,andthatwasit.Hiscarwashere,inthecarpark,buttheyfoundnosignofhim.Gone.”Isaacsnapshisfingers.“Nofootprints.Nothing.Neverfoundhisbag,hisphone…”
“Itwasbignewsatthetime,”Lauresays.“CecileandLucasknewDanielwell.Childhoodfriends.Lucaswasdevastated.Itderailedtheprojectforawhile.Thehotelwasmeanttoopenin2017,butitwasdelayedbyayear.”
“NooneknowswhathappenedtoDaniel?”Willsays.
“Thereweretheories.Peoplesaidhehadissueswithhisbusiness.”Isaacshrugs.“Somethingtodowithexpandingtooquickly,moneyproblems.”
“Peoplethoughthe’dbolted?”
“Eitherthat,or—”
“Isaac,stop.Enough.He’llhear.”Laureflipstheconversation.“Ithinkthat’severythingtour-wise.”
“Thanks,I—”Elinstops,hereyesalightingonthedoornexttoLaure.It’snothingliketheothersinthehotel;ornate,intricatelydecoratedwithcarvingsoffirtrees,mountainpeakscirclingtheperimeter.
“What’sthis?”
Lauretugsatthescarfaroundherneck.“Itusedtobeaconsultationroom.It’sclosednow.Notforusebyguests.”
“It’sempty?”
“Notexactly.”Againthehandgoesuptoherscarf—
pulling,adjusting.“It’sanarchiveofsorts.Artifactsstoredfromwhenitwasasanatorium.Theyoriginallyplannedtomakeafeatureofit,soguestscouldlearnaboutthehistoryofthehotel.”
“Theyhaven’tcompletedit?”
“It’sbeenpostponed.”Laurehesitates.Elinsensesherweighingsomethingupinhermind.Finally,shespeaks.
“Ifyou’reinterested,youcantakealook.”
Isaacfrowns.“Laure,notnow.Theyprobablywanttounpack.”
“Ofcourse,”Lauredemurs.“Anothertime.”
“No.I’dliketoseeit.Iloveanythinghistorical.”It’strue,butElincanhearthenoteofchallengeinhervoice.
ThisiswhatIsaacbringsoutinher.Makesherprickly,combative.
Willtenses.“Elin,we’veonlyjustarrived.Iwanttofindourroom,getsettled.”
“Well,yougothen,withIsaac.Wewon’tbelong.”
“Fine,”hesaystightly.“I’llseeyouupstairs.”
Elinwatchesthemleave,uneasy.Isthisreallyagoodidea?Pokingaroundsomewhereprivate?“Look,don’tworry,really…”
“It’sfine.”Lauresmiles.“ButI’mwarningyou,it’samess.Everythingtheyclearedoutbeforetherefurb—it’sbeendumpedinhere.”Pushingakeyintothelock,sheopensthedoor.
“Youweren’tjoking,”Elinmurmurs.
Theroomispiledhighwithmedicalequipment:aspirators,bottles,anold-fashionedinvalidchair,strangeglasscontraptions.Everything’scoveredwithathinfilmofdust.
There’snosemblanceoforder;somethingsareboxed,otherslieheapedonthefloor.Officedetritusisdottedaboutinbetween—cardboardboxes,filingcabinets.
“Ididwarnyou.”Laureraisesaneyebrow.
“It’snotthatbad.I’veseenworse.”Likemyplace
Disorderhadcreptuponher—bulgingcupboards,booksinpiles.Clothesstillhangingonaflimsymetalrailthatintermittentlycollapsesundertoomuchweight.Shecan’tseemtosummonthewillortheenergytodosomethingaboutit.
“It’sinteresting,isn’tit?”Lauremeetshereye.“Allthis.Whatthisplaceusedtobe.”Somethingshiftsinherdemeanor,composureslippingslightly,revealingafamiliarenergyandeagerness—aglimpseoftheoldLaurethatwasn’ttherebefore.
Elinnods,suddenlyawareofnotjustthemessbuttheroomitself.Theairfeelsdense,stifling.Thickwithdust.
Sheimaginesit;tiny,filthyparticleshovering.Forcinghergazetotheshelfonherright,shepicksupafolder.Astackofpapersplummetstothefloor.
“I’llgetthem.”Laurestepstowardher,butslips,herfootslidingoutfrombeneathher.
Elinlurchesforward,grabbingLaure’sarmtosteadyher.
“Thatwasclose.”Laurerightsherself.
“Youokay?”
“Thankstoyourquickreaction.”
“Practice.”Elinsmiles.“Mum,lastyear,shekeptfalling.Sheusedtojokesheneededacrashmat,notacarpet.”Hervoicecatches.Sheturnsaway,horrifiedatthetearsspringingupinhereyes.Willhergriefalwaysbelikethis?Embarrassinglyraw?
Laurestudiesher.“Youlookedafterher?”
“Yes.Moreorlessfulltimethelastfewmonths.Iwasonabreakfromworkanyway,so…”Shecanhearherself,explainingitaway,makinglessofit,andcorrectsherself.“Iwantedtodoit.Wehadcarers,too,butMumlikedmebeingthere.”
“Ididn’tknow,”Lauresaysquietly.
Elinshrugs.“I’mgladIdidit.”It’sthetruth.Shecan’texplainitanybetter.Untilithappened,shedidn’tknowshehadthecapacity—thepatience,theselflessness—butitcameeasily.
Areflex.Caringforhermother.Givingback.She’dfoundsomethingintenselyrewardinginthefixednatureofthetasks.Therewasnoneoftheunpredictabilityof
policework,thenaggingsenseofleavingsomethingunfinished.
“Ithinkit’samazing.Doingthatforsomeone.”Laurehesitates,voicewobblingslightly.“I’msorry,youknow.
Yourmum…shewasalovelyperson.”
Elinblinks,takenaback.AnotherglimpseoftheoldLaure:easyemotion,bothgivenandreceived.Nothingwantedinreturn.
Sheopenshermouth,abouttoreply,butthewordscatchinherthroat.TheireyesmeetandElinlooksaway.
Bending,shegathersthefallenpapersintoapile.Sherealizesit’snotonlypapers,butphotographstoo.Theimageontopishaunting—arowofwomensittingoutsideontheveranda.They’rethin,sicklylooking,theireyesturnedtothecamera.Lookingrightintohers.
Patients,Elinthinks,shiveringatthistangibleintrusionofthehotel’spastintoitspresent,suddenlyacutelyawareofhowlittleseparatesherfromwhatcamebefore.
Allatonce,shefeelsatighteninginherthroat.Onebreathisnotfollowingtheotherasitshould,insteadhiding,elusive,impossibletograsp.Herchestisheaving,herlungsfeelinglikethey’refilledwithsomethingliquid.
Don’tpanic.Don’tletittakeover.Nothere.NotinfrontofLaure.
Laurelooksatherclosely.“Issomethingwrong?”
Elinfumblesinherpocket,clampingherhandaroundherinhaler.“I’mfine.”Takingaheavypullonit,shedrawsthegasdeepintoherlungs.“Asthma.It’sbeenworsethelastyearorso.Idon’tthinkthealtitudehelps.
Orthedustinhere.”
Laurenods,stillwatchingher.
It’salie.It’snothingtodowiththeasthma.She’sbeenataltitudebefore,andshecan’trememberthisfeeling.
It’sthisplace.Thisbuilding.
Herbodyisreactingtosomethinghere;somethingliving,breathing,wovenintotheDNAofthebuilding,asmuchapartofitasitswallsandfloors.11
They’renotcoming,arethey?”Willchurnshisspoonthroughthesmearedremainsofhislemonmousse,andlooksather.
Elinpretendsshecan’thear,pushesaforkfulofchocolatetartintohermouth.Thepastryiscrumbly,thechocolatebitter,butthetextureisadisappointment—
thickandcloying.Sheslidesherplateaside.
“Elin?”Willtriestocatchhereye.
Shelooksatthetable.Twosquatcandlesdribblingwaxsitinceramicdishesbetweenthem,theflickeringflamehighlightingtheloopinggrainofthewood.Thetableholdsthedregsofthemeal—half-emptywineglasses,ajugoficedwater,slickwithcondensation,theobligatorybreadbasketthatWillalwaysrefusestorelinquish.
“El?Areyoulistening?”
“Wesaidseventhirtyish.”
“Yes”—Willinspectshiswatch—“andit’safterninenow.Idon’tthink…”Hetrailsoff.
Elinpicksupherphone.Nomissedcalls.Nomessages.
LaureandIsaacsimplyhaven’tturnedup.Shotthroughwithanger,shereprimandsherself:Hehasn’tchanged.Heneverwill.Whydidyouthinkhewould?
Tearsoffrustrationandembarrassmentprickinghereyes,sheturnsaway,pretendingtostudytheroom.It’sbusy,nearlyallthetablesfull,hummingwithchatter.It’slessstarkatnight,theluminouswhiteofthewallssoftenedbythefire,thecandlelight,yetstill,theglass.
Elinhatesit.Hateshowvulnerableitmakesherfeel.
Becauseofherpolicetraining,sheprefersenvironmentsshecanfeelincontrolof,fullyawareofanyrisks,inherentdangers.Withthisexpanseofglass,shehasn’tgotthat.Evenatnight,thewindowsdominateeverything.Theyrunthelengthoftheroom,agapingstageset,thedarknessoutsidemergingwithlurid,staccatoreflectionsofthepeopleinside.
Anythingcouldbeoutthere.
Willlaceshisfingersinhers.“You’reupset,aren’tyou?Youexpectedsomething”—hehesitates
—“different.”
Elinreachesforthejugofwater,sloshessomeintoherglass.“Yes,butIshouldn’thave.Thisiswhathedoes.It’sapowerthing,hegetssomeweirdkickoutofknowingI’llbepissedoff.That’swhathewants.Areaction.”
“Inoticedanotherreactiontoo,”Willsayslightly.
“Laure.Youneversaidyouknewher.”
“Ididn’tthinkitwasimportant.”Elinwatchesthecandle,theliquidflickeroftheflame.“Itwasagesago.
Wewereonlykids.”
Hewaitsforhertocontinue.
“Mymumandherswerefriendsfromschool.ShemarriedaSwissguyshemetteachingEnglishinJapan.
TheymovedherewhenLaurewasborn.”Elinshrugs.
“Theydidn’tvisitmuch.Ionlysawher,what,three,fourtimes?”
She’splayingitdown.FromthemomentLaureandhermother,Coralie,arrivedeveryAugust,ladendownwithbags,ElinandLaurewereinseparable.They’dspendhoursswimming,kayaking,eatingpicnicsinthewoodsbehindthebeach—baguettesstuffedwithsoftcheese,fat,stickyslicesofgingercake.
WhenLaurewenthome,forElin,summerwasover.
Shespenthourswritingtoherfriend,phonecallseverySaturday.
ButElinknowswhyshe’sdilutingit—thememoriesofLauredredgeupmemoriesofherselfbeforeSam,andshecan’thelpbutconfrontthedifferencebetweentheoldherandwhoshe’sbecome.
Butthere’ssomethingelse,too,somethingshe’striedtoignoresinceshearrived:guilt.GuiltforhowsheleftitwithLaure,howsuddenlythefriendshiphadwitheredanddied.
“Didyouevervisitherhere?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Mumwantedto,butmoneywastight.”
“Youdidn’tkeepintouch?”
“No,”shesaysabruptly.“AfterSamdied,everythingstopped.”
ElinremembersthelettersLauresent.Thenlateron,textmessages.ButElinonlyhalfheartedlyreplied—once,twice,thenitpeteredout.Itwaseasiersomehow,notstayingintouch.Notonlybecauseofthememories,butbecausepartofherhadbeenjealous.LifeforLaurehadn’tchanged.Shewasabletomoveon.
“DoyouknowhowsheandIsaacgottogether?”
“Socialmedia,Ithink.Hecameoutheretowork.TheuniversityinLausanneisn’tfarfromSierre;that’swhereLaurelives.Shehelpedhimsettlein.”Sheshakesherhead.“Partofmethinksitwasdeliberate,thatheknewitwouldpissmeoff.”
“Soignoreit.Havefun.Don’tgivehimwhathewants.
Relax.”Willleansbackinhischair.“This,theholiday,it’llonlyworkifyoudon’tletthingsgettoyou.”
Shescanstheroom.“I’mtrying,butthisplace…
there’ssomethingweirdaboutit,isn’tthere?Somethingcreepy.”
“Creepy?”Willsmiles.“Youjustdon’tlikeitbecauseit’soutofyourcomfortzone.”
He’sonlyhalfjoking.He’sneversaidit,butsheknowsherinflexibilitypisseshimoff.Hecan’tunderstandit,
cometogripswithit,soheturnsitintosomethingfunny.
Elinforcesasmile.“Comfortzone?Comeon,I’mMissSpontaneous…takeoffatawhim…”
“Youusedtobe,”Willsaysseriously,meetinghergaze.“Whenwefirstmet.”
Herhandclenchesaroundtheglass.“Youknowwhathappened.”Hervoiceisshaky.“YouknowwhatI’vebeenthroughthispastyear.”
“Iknowthat,butyoucan’tletitdestroyyou.TheHaylercase,yourmum,Sam,whateverthisthingiswithIsaac,you’veletitallbuildupintosomethingsohugeit’sswallowingtherestofyourlife.Yourworld,it’sgettingsmallerandsmaller.”Hesmiles,buthe’sforcingit,shecantell.“I’mstillwaitingonthatcampingtripyoupromised.Iboughtatentandeverything.”
“Stop.”Elinpushesbackherchair,horrifiedtofindherchestheaving.She’sgoingtocryagain.Here,intherestaurantwithWill.Whathe’ssaying,itfeelslikeawarning.Thathe,likeherjob,isn’tgoingtowaitaroundforever.
Shestandsup.Shecan’tfacethis:losingsomethingelse.
“Elin,comeon,Iwasteasing.”
“No.”Heatchasesupherback,herneck.“Ican’tdothis,Will.Notnow.Nothere.”12
Herattackerisback:Adelecanheartherhythmicshuffleoffootsteps,theheavy,suckingpullofbreath.
Shedoesn’tmovefromherseatedposition,backagainstthewall.Shehasn’tmovedsinceshegothere.
Listen.Learn.Don’twasteanyenergy.
There’sasuddenpressureonherarm.Apush—
sideways.Adeleslamsagainstthefloor.Themovementjars,sendsjudderingshockwavesofpainthroughhershoulderandneck.
Cryingout,shecurlsuponherside,legstuckedunderneathher.
Hereyesarefastenedshut.
Keepyoureyesclosed.Whateverhappens,keepyoureyesclosed.
Thisisthemantrashekeepsrepeatinginherhead.
She’sgotnoideawhothispersonisorwhattheywantwithher,butsheknowsthatthemonstrousthingontheirfaceistheretomakeherscared.Sheknowsthatifshe’sscared,she’sweak,hasnochanceofgettingbacktoGabriel.
Herfatherhadtoldheronceaboutwhatfeardidtothebrain,aprimitivereactionyoucan’tcontrol.
Whatwasitcalled?Thatparticularpartofthebrain?
Think…
Allsheremembersisthatwhenthistinypartofthebrainsensesathreat,itoverridesconsciousthoughtsothebodycandivertallitsenergytofacingthethreat.
Theproblemwiththatisthattherestofthebrainmoreorlessshutsdown.Thecerebralcortex,thebrain’s
centerforreasoningandjudgment,becomesimpaired,sothinkingaboutthebestmoveinacrisisisimpossible.
Anothersound.
Azip,shethinks.Rustling.
Adeleswallowshard.Whataretheydoing?
Think,shetellsherselfagain,think.There’sstilltime….Aslongasyoudon’tlook,youcangetyourselfoutofthis.
It’sonlywhenshefeelshandsonherthatAdelerealizesthatclosinghereyesisamiscalculation,thatalready,withoutherconsciousknowledge,herreasoninghasbeenimpaired.Byclosinghereyes,shehasthrownawayanychance,howeversmall,toescape.
Yes.Fearhasdoneitsdamage.
Adeledoesn’tfeelitatfirst.Thecold,theexertion—
it’snumbedherskin.
Allshefeelsispressure.Afingertippressureonherrightthigh.
It’sonlywhenthesharpmetalpointofaneedleslidesfromthesubcutaneoustissuethroughtothemusclethatitregisters.
Adull,heavypain.
Adeletriestokick,scream.Sheopenshereyesbutshecan’tseeanything.Ablacknessisalreadyengulfingher.
Animpenetrabledarknessthatsmotherseverything.13
Please.”Catchingupwithher,Willgrabsherhand.
“Comeback.”
“Ican’t.”Rockingbackonherheels,Elinfeelsthetugofitagain;thetippingoverintopanic.
“Elin.”Hestrengthenshisgriponherhand.“Ifyoukeepwalkingawayeverytimewediscussthings,there’snopointinbeingtogether,isthere?Ifwecan’tsharethings,there’snothinglinkingus.Noproperties.”
Shelooksathim.Hisfaceisflushed,angry,buthiseyesarewarmbehindhisglasses.Elinfeelsasurgeofguilt:hecares,that’sall.Hewantstotalk,whichisnormal,isn’tit?Inacouple.Normaliswhatshehastobe,trytobe,forWill.
Shenods,followinghimbacktothetable.
Whenthey’vesatdownagain,Willlightlytouchesherarm.“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
“Yes.”Elinhesitates.Shedoesn’twanttostarttheconflictagain,butthewordsareoutbeforeshecanstopthem.“Will,whatyouweresayingthen,you’rewrong.Ihavemovedon.Lookatus…”
“Youhad,butit’sstopped,thelastfewmonths.Thepast,it’slikearoadblock.You’rereluctanttoleavethehouseunlessit’storun,andyoudon’tlikesocializinganymore.”Hepauses.“Iheardyou,youknow,theothernight,inbed.YoucalledoutSam’sname.Ithoughtyouweredealingwithit,Elin.Thegrief.Thatitwasbetter.”
Elinabsorbshiswords.Better?Howwoulditevergetbetter?HergriefforSamislockedinsideher,ineverycell.
Shedoesn’tknowhowtoresolveit.Howdoyougoaboutunpickingsomeonefromyourlifewhenthey’rethe
threadtyingeverypartofyoutogether?
Sheknowsit’shardforWill—hewantstoseeprogress,somekindofsignthatshe’llbeoverit,ifnotnow,thensoon.Sometimesshewondersifhesawherasabitofaprojectwhentheyfirstgottogether,likeoneofhisoldbuildingsthatneededrenovating.Asmallredesign,onemorepush,thefinalfix,andshe’llbeshinyandnew.
Exceptsheisn’t,notyet—she’sfallingbehindschedule—
hisschedule,andhedoesn’tlikeit.
“Itscaresme,Elin.Howfarthiscouldgo.”Willlooksather.“Yourjob…theywon’tholditforever,youknowthat,don’tyou?”
Iknowthat,shewantstosay,butI’mnotsureIcanbeadetectiveanymore.
ShekeepstellingherselfthatfindingoutthetruthaboutwhathappenedthedaySamdiedwillfixeverything,thatshe’llbeabletomoveon,butwhatifitdoesn’t?Whatifthisisthenewstatusquo?
Asobbacksupinherthroat,comesoutasasquashed,hiccupygulp.
Willputsahandacrosshers,squeezes.“Look,Ishouldn’thavesaidanything.We’rebothtired.”Hereachesforhisglass.“You’vebeengoingthroughallofyourmum’sstuff,we’vebeentravelingallday,andnowthis—”
Hehasapoint.Thelasttwoeveningsshe’dbeengoingthroughhermother’sthingslateintothenight.Everyitem—books,clothes,thefadedphotographsstillintheirframes—hadbroughtmemoriesfloodingback,leftherfeelingstrangelyisolated,adrift.It’sbeenmorethansixmonthssinceshedied,butthegriefisstillraw.
Draininghiswineglass,Willlowershisvoice.“That’swhatpissesmeoffthemost,youknow.ThefactthatIsaacleftyoutodealwithcaringforyourmum,herestate,thecrappyadmin,thepersonalstuff,andnowyou’vecomeouthere,forhim,andhe’splayinggames.”
“Iknow,”Elinsaystightly.“ButIthoughtitmightbedifferentthistime.”
Willraisesaneyebrow.
“Comeon,heshouldwanttobehere,Will.Itshouldn’tbethishard…andhesaid,didn’the?Hesaidweshouldmeetfordinner.”
“Stop.”Willcutsacrossher.“We’refallingforit.Whatwe’redoing—gettingwoundup,questioning,overanalyzing—yousaidthat’swhathewants.Let’sjustenjoythenight.”Hepicksupthedrinksmenu,scansit.
“Cocktail?”
Elinhesitates,steadiesherself.“You’reright.Let’smakethemostofbeinghere.”
Willsummonsthewaiterover.“Oneofthese.”Hestabsthemenuwithhisfinger.“Andthisone.”
Whenthecocktailsarrive,helaughs.“Minimalistlikeeverythingelse.”
He’sright.Thedrinksareparedback,restrained.Noluridbluesorpinks,nogaudydecoration.Herlycheemartiniisasoftblushcolor,awholelycheestraddlingtherimoftheglass.Hisisalmostcolorless.
Elinsips.Thesweettanghitsherrightaway.Thevodkaburnsthebackofherthroat:asuddenheat.It’sstrong.
“Trymine?”Willpusheshisglasstowardher.Helooksatherandsmiles,butit’sstretchedthinattheedges.He’spretendingnow,butafewdrinksinandit’llbereal.
Closingherhandaroundthestemoftheglass,Elinfeelsthetensionslippingfromhershoulders.Will’sright.Shecan’tletIsaacgettoher.Besides,shethinks,sheisn’theretobuildbridges.
Thisisaboutgettinghimtoadmitwhathedid,onceandforall.14
Willpushesopenthedoorandstumblesintotheroom.Handjerkingout,heclumsilyjamsthekeycardintotheslotonthewall.
Afail:theplasticcardbendsback,slidespastthetarget.
“Giveittome.”Laughing,Elintakesitfromhim,slidesitcarefullyintothenarrowslot.Theroomilluminates,thebrightspotlightsdottedaboveherheadsendingtheroomintosharprelief.
Instantly,shereacts:abitterchillmovingthroughher.Everythingaboutthisroomjars,puttinghernervesonedge.
Itisn’tthattheroom’sempty—there’sabed,asofa,atableandchairs,butthere’snoneoftheusualdecorativestufffortheeyetohookonto:cushions,curtains,vases.
Thebedisbuiltintothewall,juttingoutinoneuninterruptedline,thewardrobe,too,astrangegapbeneathit.Along,lowsofafitsseamlesslyagainstthewall,thewhitelinencoveralmostanexactmatchtothewallitself.
Perhapsherdiscomfortsayssomethingabouther.Sheremembersherlastreviewatwork:Elinstrugglestoaccommodatechange.Thismayhamperhercareerprospects.
“What’swrong?”Willkicksoffhisshoes,mouthrelaxingintoalopsidedgrin.Hiseyesareheavylidded,loose.He’sdrunk.Worsethanshe’sseenhiminawhile.
Hisphoneisinhishand.Aloudpingsoundsout.
Elinknowswhatitisimmediately—hisWhatsAppgroup.Jokesharingtotheextreme.Someofthe
membersarefriends,othersareacquaintances,friendsoffriends.
Will’sgroupcommunicatesinatotallydifferentwayfromherandherfriends—nointeractionisallowedbeyondtheactualsharingofthejokeandabriefresponse.Nopleasantriesorchat,justabombardmentofjokes.
He’sstaringatthescreen,smiling.“Look.”Heholdsuphisphone.
Elinscansthescreen.Makingabeltoutofwatches,it’sawaistoftime.
Shecan’thelplaughing.Thoughshe’dneveradmitit,mostofthejokesareactuallyprettygood.It’sapuerile,basichumor—ahumorthatneithershenorWillhasevermovedonfrom.
Shelooksdownatherownphoneandsighs.“Isaacstillhasn’tcalled.Nomessageeither.”
Shetossesthephoneontothebed,putsherfingerstohertemple.Herheadisstartingtothrob:adullbeatatthebaseofherneck.
Reachingforaglass,shepoursmineralwaterintoit,takesalongswig.
Itdoesn’tgetridofthetasteofthecocktails:thetangofthealcoholturningsour,metallicatthebackofherthroat.
“Forgetit.”Willsmiles.“Don’truinthenightnow.Notnowyou’verelaxed.”
Elinstiffens.Theeffectsofthealcoholarestartingtofade.Shefeelspissedoffalloveragain.
Armdroppingtoherwaist,Willpullshertohim,cupsherhips.“Wecouldhavearomanticfirstnight…”
Sheshrugshimoff.“Maybe.”Itisn’tgoingtohappen.
ThemoreshetriesnottothinkaboutIsaac,theforgottenmeal,themorethefrustrationpilesupinsideher.
Elin’sfullwithit:Theirfirstnightandhe’sleftthemhighanddry.Nonormalpersonwoulddothat.It
shouldn’tbethishard,surely?Equaleffortfrombothsides.Communication.
Weavinganunsteadypathacrosstheroom,Elinpullsopenthedoor,stepsoutontothebalcony.Swirlsofmilkyicefrostthewoodenslats.
Shetakesabreathofpure,icyair.
Another.
Herheadstartstoclear,thealcoholfugdissolving,slippingaway.
“Will,look,”shecalls.“Youcanseetheviewatlast.”
Thecloudsarebreakingup,revealingpalestreaksofsky.
Thehazysemicircleofmooniscastingasoftlightacrossthemountainpeaksopposite.
Atfirstglance,it’smagnificent,yetthemoreshelooks,themoresherealizeshowsinisterthemountainsappear:raw,jaggedspikes.Thehighestishooked,likeaclaw.
Elinshudders.ShethinksaboutwhatIsaactoldheraboutDanielLemaitre,themissingarchitect.Nobody.
Noevidence.
It’snothardtoimagine,shethinks,lookingout;thisplacesomehowconsumingsomeone,swallowingthemwhole.
“It’sstunning,”Willsaysfromthedoorway,“butyou’dbettercomein.Thattopisthin.I’veheardstoriesaboutdrunkpeoplenotfeelingthecold.Someonefindsthemthenextday,semiclothed,deadfromhypothermia.”Helooks,starstruckstyle,atthewoodenchairbesideher.
“Thatrecliner—it’sthesameasthey’dhaveusedbackthen.”
“Geek.”Elinsmiles,thenfreezes,puttingherfingertoherlips.Shecanhearsomething:footsteps,thecrispsqueakofsnow.Alighterclicking.Avoice,speakinginmelodicFrench.
Peeringoverthebalcony,sheglimpseschoppyblackhair,ascarf.
Elinsucksinherbreath.
Laure.
She’swalkingoutofreception,slowlypickingthroughthesnownearthefrontofthehotel.She’swearingathickblackpuffercoat,unzipped.Thegrayscarfisstillaroundherneck,butloose,endsnowdanglingtoherwaist.
Laurecomestoastopjustbelowtheirbalcony.
There’sacigaretteinherhand,thinplumesofsmokeeddyingintotheair.She’stalkingloudly,rapidly,intoaphone,gesticulating,thetinyglowinglightfromthetipofhercigarettedancingagainstthenightskylikeafirefly.
Elinstaysstill,scaredtomakeamove,drawattentiontoherself.
Laureturns,eversoslightly.Theglowfromtheoutsidelightscatchesherface,highlightingtheacuteangles;thesliceofjaw,theboldnose,herbrows.
Herexpressionisfierce,hereyesnarrowed,lipslightlycurled.
Elincan’tunderstandtheFrench,butthefeelinginLaure’svoiceisclear.Sharpedged.Angry.Nothinglikethepersonshe’dseenearlier.
Elinstares,transfixed.ThisnewLaureisalientoher.15
DayTwo
Thesmellhitsherfirst:freshlybakedbread,bittercoffee,thesavorytangofcheese.
Elinscansthetable:basketsofshinycroissants,baguettes,tinyrollsstuddedwithsaltflakes.Adark-hairedwaiter,brandishingwoodentongs,istransferringpainsauchocolattoanemptybasket.Hemovesaside,revealingham,salamis,smokedsalmon,ceramicbowlsofcreamyyogurt.
Herstomachturns.
“NowthisiswhatIcallabreakfast.”Willrubshishandstogether.
Elinlaughs.“Sureyou’llcope?”Hisappetiteisthestuffoflegend.Postsurf,he’sbeenknowntoeatnotonebuttwotwelve-inchpizzas,andthenfinishoffwithanindustrialquantityoficecream.Breakfastishisfavoritemeal—thebigrefuel.
Grinning,henudgesher.“Sowhatareyougoingfor?”
“I’mnotreallyhungry.”Shereachesforthejugoforangejuice,andpourssomeintoaglass.Midpour,herhandfalters.“Shit.”Shewatchesthejuicepoolonthetablecloth,liquidsunshine,beforebeingabsorbed.
“Lightweight,”Willwhispers,tryingnottolaugh.
Elinsmiles,triestoignorethedullacheinhertemple.
Thisiswhyshedoesn’tdrink.She’dtriedtoohard,shethinks,consciousofthemoment,fourcocktailsin,whenitbecamelessaboutfunandmoreaboutobliteration.
Dangerousechoes,shethinks.HermotherdidthesamethingwhenSamdied.Dranktoblockitout
Elinremembersdayswhenhermotherhardlyleftthehouse.Spenthoursstaringoutatthebeach,endlesscupsofteagrowingcoldinherhand.
Herfathertooktheoppositeapproach.Accelerating,hesprangintoarelentlesskindofaction.ClearedSam’sroom.Removedallnewspapersfromthehouse.
ResolutelyswitchedofftheTVwheneverthenewscameon.
Shealwaysthinksthathisleaving,onlyafewyearsafterSam’sdeath,wasthenaturalcontinuationofthat.
StartinganotherlifeinWales,anewwifeandfamily:theultimatewaytomoveforward.Closurebydeletionofthepast.
Elincouldn’tescapethem,though—thewordshe’dtriedsohardtooutrun.
Theywereeverywhere:atthekioskontheseafront,inthenewsplayingloudonTVintherestaurant.
LOCALBOYDROWNED.THETOWNISSTILLIN
MOURNINGAFTERTHETRAGICDEATHOFSAMWARNER,AGEEIGHT.
Elinshrugsthethoughtaway.“Aretheyhere?”Takingaplate,sheglancesacrosstheroom.Howeverpositivelyshetriestopositionitinherhead,it’sgoingtobeawkward—themissedmeal,thememoryofseeingLaurefromthebalcony,angryandexposed.
Willlooksoverhershoulder.“No.Allclear.”Stabbingapieceofsalami,heleversitontohisplate.
Nauseasweepsoverher.Thethickslicesofsausageareslickwithoil,tinyorbsofwhitefatstuddingtheinterior.“I’lltrysomebread.”Pickingupaplainroll,shespoonsasingle,scarletblobofjamontoherplate.
Shefindsatablebythewindow,sipsherorangejuice.
Theliquidisthick,fresh,thepulpfibrousonhertongue.
Headstartingtoclear,shelooksoutside.Freshsnowispiledhighagainstthewindows,impossiblywhiteagainsttheblue-skybackdrop.Forthefirsttime,itlooks
invitingratherthansinister.PerhapsWill’ssuggestiontogoforawalkwasn’tsuchabadidea.
Willstridestowardher,platepiledhigh.“Don’tlooknow,butIsaac’sjustwalkedin.He’sonhisown.”Sittingdown,helowershisvoice.“He’scomingover.”
Elinlooksupasherbrotherapproaches.“Hey.”Shekeepshertoneneutral,alreadypreparingwords,cleversentencesspoolingthroughherhead,butstopswhensheseeshisface.
Something’swrong,Elinthinks,lookingathismussed-uphair,thewildexpressioninhiseyes.
“Laure’sgonemissing,”hesaysquietly,lookingaroundtocheckthatnoone’sinearshot.
“What?”Herpulsequickens.
“She’smissing,”Isaacrepeats.“Something’shappenedtoher.”16
JeremieBissetpowersupthenarrowpathbehindLeSommetintotheforest.Instantly,hissurroundingsdarken,theopentrailgivingwaytoamassofdense-growingpines.
Insummer,thepathisarockytrail,usedbyhikerstoaccesstheglacierbeyond,butnowit’schokedwithsnow.
Smothered.
Hetiltshisheadupward.Overnight,theskyhascleared.It’snowapale,milkyblue,streakedwithfragmentedwispsofcloud.Itwon’tlast.Theforecastforthenextweekisgrim.
Withinminutes,hefindsarhythm;asteadymetronomeofpoleandski.Asurgeofeuphoria:helovesthis,theuphillslog.Inthewinter,hetourseverymorningbeforework.Setsthealarmbeforedawn,followsthetrailuptowardAminona.
It’stheonlythinghedoeswithanykindofregularity.
Usually,hehatesroutineofanykind.Itremindshimofthehospital.Thefinaldayswithhisfather.Everydayagrimloopofbrittleregularity—wardrounds,medication,lightsout.
Jeremieforcesthethoughtaway.Hisbreathiscominghardnow,fast.Hishamstringsandquadsarealreadyburning.
Notaneasyascent,butthat’swhyhelikesit.Partofhimwondersifit’spsychological—therepetitiveclimbhiswayofdispellingthefeelingthathe’sconstantlyfalling.Lastnight,again,he’dwokeninthepredawnunderdampsheets.Grief.Work.Theongoingcustodybattle.
Hepictureshisex’sface;thedisdainclearlyvisibleasshebundledSebastienintothecar.
Jeremiepushesthethoughtaway,powerson.
Withinminutes,he’sthroughtheforest.
Asuddenlight,dazzlingoffthesnow.Thedimgloomoftheforestcanopyhasgivenwaytoanopenbowlabovethetreeline.Novegetationcangrowhere.Theonlythingbetweenhimandtheglacieraboveisawallofgraypleatedlimestone,itsserratedundulationscrustedwithsnow.
Jeremiestops,listenstohisbreath,exhalationscominginshort,raggedpuffs.
Sweatistricklingdownhisbackbeneathhisthermals.
Waitingforhisbreathingtosettle,helooksout.Hecanseerightdowntothevalleyfloor.Juttingcranesbisectthetown,giantrightanglesloomingoverthecuboidshapesoftheindustrialheartland.Ablocky,manmadegeometry,nothingliketherawofthewildernesshere.
Thewindgusts,tuggingathisjacket.Heshivers,thinkingabouttheimpendingforecast,thestormclosingin.
Movingrapidly,hetearstheskinsfromhisskis,thinstripsthatsticktothebaseoftheskisforascendingslopes,whichheremovesforskiingdownhill.Thespecialsurfaceallowshimtoslideforwardonthesnow,butnotbackward.
Hedeftlywindsuptheskins,andfoldsthemagainstthenettingsotheydon’tsticktogether.Hereturnsthemtotheirbag.Ashezipsitshut,hestops.
Anoise.Footsteps?
Jeremiepivots,scanshissurroundings.
Nothing.Nosignsoflife.
Again.
Thesoundismuted,indistinguishable.
Turninghishead,heexaminesthelandscapearoundhimmoreslowlythistime.There’snoonethere.Heholdshisbreath,earsringinginthesilence.
Anothersound.
Perhapsit’scomingfromabove…
Jeremierakeshiseyesoverthesheerfaceofrockabovehim.
Hestartles,heartracing.
Themorehelooks,themorethemountainsaboveseemtobemovingtowardhim.Withathickercoveringofsnowthanindecades,thetoweringcornicesandridgesofthemountainsnolongerlookfamiliar,butsomethingsinister,alien.
Jeremiedragshiseyesaway.He’stired,hethinks.
Fourhours’sleep—itscrewswithyourmind.
Hecrouchesdown,pullinghisbootstighter,andflickshisbindingsintodownhillmode.Skatingforward,hereachesthetrailrunningparalleltotheforest.
Withnoliftsysteminthishalfofthevalley,thesnowisthick,untouched,anunbrokenexpanseofwhite.
Ashestartstoturn,adrenalinesurgesthroughhim.
Hisskisthrowthick,gauzycloudsofpowderintotheair.
Halfwaydown,heslows.Hecanseesomethingahead;aglinting,areflectioninthesnowthatshouldn’tbethere.
Apieceofmetal?It’shardtotell…
Hewaitsuntilhe’sparallelwithitandthenstops.
Abracelet.
Asmootharcofbronzedmetal.Copper.
It’sthenheseessomethingelse,stucktosomekindofmaterial.Afadedbluecotton.Hisbreathcatchesinhisthroat,hiseyesfindingthebuttonontheunderside.Thefabric—it’sclothing.
Jeremieclicksoutofhisskis,achillmovingthroughhim.
Hestumblesinthedeep,powderysnow,eachstepburyinghislegsuptotheknee
Whenhereachesthebracelet,hekneelsdown.
Closinghisfingersaroundthetopofthemetal,hetugs.
Itisn’tgoingtocomeeasily.
It’swedgedin,snowandicesetlikecementaroundit.
Ashedigshishandintothesnow,hepushesasmuchofitawayashecan,tryingtogainenoughroomtogethisfingersaroundthetopofthebracelet.
Itwon’tbudge.He’llhavetogofarther,loosenthesnowpackaroundthesidesaswell.Pullingoffhisglove,heuseshisfingerstoscrabble,leverthesnowaway.
Useless.
Withinseconds,hisfingersarered,numb.Pullingoffhisrucksack,hereachesforhispocketknife.Heflicksitopenandstartshackingatthesnow,jabbingthehardsurfacewiththeblade,hookingdense,crystallineclumpsaway.
Better.
Afewinchesin,hecanseemoreofthebracelet,moreofthefabric.
Pinchinghisfingersaroundthetopofthebracelet,Jeremieyankshard.Hejerksbackward,thematerialandbraceletcomingwithhim,togetherwithsomethingelse.
Jeremiestares,frozen.
Bilefillsthebackofhisthroat.Droppingtheknifeandthebracelet,hegags,vomitingoverandoverintothesnow.17
Isaac,”Elinstarts,herwordspuncturingthestrangesilence.“Ifthisissomeweirdjoke…”He’ddonethingslikethisasachild.Nothingwasoff-limits.
Anythingtogetareaction.
“It’snot.”Isaac’seyeslockontohers.“WhenIwokeup,shewasgone.”Hisfaceispale,purpleshadowsunderhiseyes.
“Maybeshe’sgoneforaswim,ortothegym?”Elinsuggests.“Thehotel’senormous.Theremustbeloadsofplacesshecouldbe.”
“I’vechecked.Noone’sseenher.Takingofflikethis,it’snotlikeher.”Hesitsdown.“Ifoundthis,too,nearourdoor.”Pullingsomethingfromhispocket,heplacesitonthetableinfrontofher.
Anecklace.
Thefineloopsofthechainspilloverthetable;aliquid,sinuousgold.Elinstares,hereyesfindingthesmallgoldLinthecenter.“Thatcouldhavejustfallenoff.”
“Lookatit,”Isaacurges.“Thechain’sbroken.
Something’shappened.”
“Likewhat?”Afamiliarsurgeoffrustration:she’sforgottenthis.Therelentlessattentionseeking,theendlesspivotsfromonedramatoanother.
“Idon’tknow,butshe’dhavefeltitbreak.Stoppedtopickitupifshecould.Coraliegaveittoher.It’sspecial.”
Hehesitates.“LikeSam’snecklaceistoyou.”
Elin’shandcomesuponautopilot,clampsaroundthechain.HermotherhadthenecklacemadeafewyearsafterSamdied:hisluckycrabbinghook,castinsilver.
“Sowhatareyoutryingtosay?”
“It’slikesheleftinsuchahurry,shedidn’thavetimetopickitup,orcouldn’t…”
“Maybe.”
AwaiterappearsnexttoIsaac.“Coffee?”
Isaacgivesabrusquenod.“Black,please.”
“Perhapsshewentforawalk?”Willsays,stillchewing.“Theweather’sbetter.”
“Maybe,butwhywouldn’tsheleaveanote?
Something’swrong.Iknowit.Shewouldn’tjustgooffwithouttellingme.”
Hisanxietyiscontagious.Elincan’thelpbutfeelpanicked,eventhoughwhathe’ssayingissurelyanoverreaction.Whyassumeshe’smissing?Shehasn’tbeengonelong.Therearemanypossibleexplanationsforwhereshemightbe.
Thenshepicturesthesceneshe’dglimpsedlastnight.
Laure,onthephoneoutside,theviolent,angryexpressiononherface.
“Whendidyoulastseeher?”
“Lastnight.Wewereinbed,reading.Turnedoffthelightabouteleven.”
“Youdidn’thearanythinginthenight?Nodisturbances?”
Willlooksather,surprisemarkinghisfeatures.He’sneverseenherlikethis,Elinthinks.Inworkmode.Itsurprisesher,too:ayearoutoftheforceyetit’sstillthere—areflex,throwingoutquestions,gatheringinformation.
“Nothing,”Isaacreplies.
Thewaiterreturnswithajugofcoffee,placesitonthetableinfrontofthem.Steamswirlsinaraggedlinetotheceiling.
“Look,”Elinsays,“atworkweseestufflikethisallthetime.Peoplepanicbecausesomeone’sgoneoff,they
worrybecauseit’soutofcharacter,butusuallythere’sanexplanation,somekindofemergency,afriendneedinghelp…”
“Withoutleavinganote?Withoutcalling?”Isaacscoffs,asharpnesstohistone.“Comeon,you’donlyjustarrived.Wehadplansfortoday.Thespa…”
Again,ElinthinksaboutLaurepacingoutsideonthephone,glowingcigarettetipdancingwildlyagainstthenight.“Soyou’vegotnoideawhereshecouldbe?”
Isaac’sfacedarkens.“No.”Hepourscoffeeintohiscup.Thesteamingliquidsloshesoverthesides,poolingonthetable.
“Hasherphonegone,anyofherstuff?”Ifthiswasamissingpersonscase,Elinthinks,thisisthefirstthingshe’dascertain.Wasthisspontaneousorplanned?
“Nothing.Notherphone,herbag.”Isaacpicksupanapkin,rubsitovertheliquid.“Elin,herclothesarethere,hertoiletries…shehasn’ttakenanything.You’dhardlyleaveeverythingifyou’dplannedtotakeoff,wouldyou?”
“Look,”shesays,treadingcarefully,“sometimespeopledotakeoff.Leavetheirstuffbehind.It’snotunheardof.”Shehesitates,unsureofhowtophraseitright.“Isaac,didanythinghappenlastnight?”
“No.”
Somethinginhisinflectionmakeshertense.He’skeepingsomethingfromme.
“Isaac,please.You’vegottobehonest.”
Thelastcornerofthenapkinturnssodden;apale,murkybrown.
Isaacnods.“Lastnight,Laurewasupset.Edgy.Iassumedshewasstressed,aboutseeingyouagain,butnowIthinkitwassomethingelse.”Hefrowns.“Shewasoff,preoccupied.Iwasgettingreadyfordinner,andshecameoutoftheshower,announcedshewasn’tcoming.
Saidsomethinghadcomeup.Igotangry,saidwhatever
itwas,sheshouldputitoff,becausewe’dagreedtomeetyou.”
“Soyouwereplanningoncoming?”Keepinghervoicelevel,shenoteshislackofapology.
“Yes,butIwantedLauretocometoo.”Herubshiseyes.“Idon’tknow,perhapsIshouldhavesaidforgetit,I’dgoonmyown,butitwasyourfirstnighthere.Westartedarguing.Itescalated.Laure’sstubborn.Onceshedigsherheelsin…”
“Didshetellyouwhatshewasplanningondoinginstead?”
“No.That’swhatpissedmeoff.Allshesaidwasthatithadtodowiththehotel.”
“Work?”
“Yes.Thelastfewmonths,it’sbeennonstopforher.”
Draininghiscoffee,hestandsup.Hisbodyistense,coiled.“I’mgoingtoringaroundtoherfriends,family,theneighborsinSierre.Ifit’spossibleshemighthavetakenoffwithoutherstuff,it’sworthatry.”
“You’resureyoudon’twantsomethingtoeatfirst?”
Noreply;he’salreadywalkingaway.
WillwaitsuntilIsaacisoutofearshot,thenlooksather.“Youdidsaythistripwasn’tgoingtobestraightforward.”Hiswordsarelightbutshecanhearthetensioninthem.Hehacksatthesliceofsalmononhisplate.
Elinforcesasmile.“Chancesareshe’sinthehotel.
Theyhadafight,she’sprobablydrinkingcoffeeinsomedarkcornerofthelounge,hiding.”
“Isthatwhatyou’ddotome?”Willforksaragged,pinkishsliverofsalmonintohismouth,facedeadpan.
“Punishmebyhidingaway?”
“Will,don’tjoke.”
Hesmiles.“Sorry.Ijustthinkit’stooearly,isn’tit?
Forhimtobepronouncingsomethingbadhashappened.”
“Butwhataboutlastnight?Laure.Onthephone.
Outsideourroom.Ifshe’smissing,thenitcouldberelevant.”
Thewordshangintheair.Elinreprimandsherself.
Thisissupposition.Theydon’tknowanything.Yetagain,she’sremindedwhysheshouldn’tbeworking.Sheisn’tready,isshe?Thisguesswork,thejumpingtoconclusions—it’swrong.
“Elin,alreadyhe’sgotyouonedge.”
“SowhatdoyouproposeIdo?Ignorewhathe’ssaying?”Elin’sgriptightensontheglass,fingertipsturningwhitefromthepressure.
“No,butforwhatit’sworth,Ithinkit’sbullshit.
They’vehadsometiff,andyou’rebearingthebruntofit.”
Elindoesn’treply.Lookingup,sheseesIsaacwalkingdownthecorridor.Sheabsorbshissilhouette,theloping,slightlybowleggedwalk.It’ssofamiliaritstings.Sheblinks.Memoriesriseup,likebubblescomingtothesurface.
Sky.Runningclouds.Theblackdartofbirds.
Thenblood,alwaysblood.
Willglancesather.“Idon’tknowifyourealizeit,butyoualwayslookacertainwaywhenyouseehim.”
“Acertainway?”Elincanhearherheart,pulsinginherears.
“Scared.”Willpusheshisplateaway.“Everytimeyouseehimyoulookscared.”18
Wipinghismouthwiththebackofhishand,Jeremieturns,forceshisgazebacktothesnow,thegrimdiscovery.Thebilestings,acidicinhisthroat.
Beneaththebraceletisbone.Bonecontortedinaninhumanangle.
Heshiftsposition,barelyabletocatchhisbreath.Hecanfeelsweatbeadinguponhisforehead.
Therehavebeenafewdiscoverieslikethisoverthepastfewyears;globalwarmingforcingglacierstoretreat,revealingcorpsesmissingfordecades.
Notfarfromhere,amarriedcouplewasfoundonaglaciernearChandolin,overseventy-fiveyearsaftertheirdisappearance.They’dfallenintoadeepcrevasse.
Photosappearedfordaysinthenewspapers,online:graphicandintrusive,despitethepassingoftheyears.Abatteredleatherbag,awinebottle.Blackheeledbootswithold-fashioned,crudelynailedsoles.
Jeremiehadbeentransfixed—notonlybywhatthepicturesrevealedofaforgottenwayoflife,butbythemagnitudeofwhattheyrepresented:closure.Heimaginedthefamily,theirdescendants,theirgriefnolongersuspended.
Hemoveshisgazelower.Belowthebracelet,awatch.
It’sexpensive,hecantell:wide,goldstrap,alarge,flashyface,bezelstuddedwithtinydiamonds.
Therearewordsontheinsideofthestrap—anengraving.Hepeerscloser.
DanielLemaitre.
Jeremierecoils.Themissingarchitect.
Openinghispocket,hepullsouthisphoneanddials117,afreshbandofsweatbreakingoutacrosshisforehead.19
Isaac.”Elinrapsonthedoor.“Isaac,it’sme.”Herchestispricklingwithheat,thetechnicalmerinolayershe’swearingdesignedforoutside,notin.
Thedoorswingsopen.Isaac’sfaceisflushed,blotchy.
“SorryIdidn’tcallbefore,”Elinsays,hesitant.“Willwantedtogoforawalkafterbreakfast.”Sheforcesasmile.“Wedidn’tgetfar.Thesnow’ssodeep.”
Isaacnods,somethingshiftingacrosshisface:aflashofemotion,gonesofastshecan’tmakeitout.Itwasthesamewhentheywerechildren.Elinfloundering,atadisadvantage,wonderingwhatwasgoingthroughhismind.
Heturnsandwalksbackintotheroom.
“Isaac,isitallrighttocomein?”It’sridiculousthatsheneedstoask,butit’simpossibletotellifhewantsherthere.
“It’sfine,”hesaysabruptly.
Walkingin,sheclockshishikingbootsonthefloor.
They’rewet;theblacklacessplayed,sodden,encrustedwithfragmentsofice.“You’vebeenoutsidetoo?”
Isaacnods,pacingpastthewindow.“Justgotback.”
Elindoesn’treply,takenabackbyhowrapidlyhe’sspeaking.He’swired,shecantell.Thisfreneticmovement,theflushedface.
He’spanicking.
“Whatwereyoudoing?”
“Lookingforher.Uptowardtheforest.Ithoughtmaybeshe’dgoneoutside,fallen.”Hisfeaturesaretense.
“I’vetriedeverythingelse.Searchedthehotel,therestofthegrounds.Calledfriends,family…”
Elinlooksathim,acrushingfeelingenvelopingher,asifshe’sbeingheldtootight.Isaac’smovements,thepacingtoandfro,suddenlyseemexaggerated.
“And?”
“Noluck.There’snosignofher.Noone’sheardfromhereither.I’vejustcalledthepolice.”
“Already?”Shetriestokeepherexpressionneutral.
Henods.“Useless.Saidshehasn’tbeenmissinglongenoughtowarranttheminvestigating.Theysaidthatifthere’snosignshe’sgoneouthikingorskiing,andisn’tintrouble,thenweshouldleaveitfornow.”Heshakeshishead.“Iknowshehasn’tbeengonelong,butIdon’tlikeit.Ifshe’sokay,whyhasn’tshecalledbynow?”
“Idon’tknow.”Elinwalksfartherintohisroom.
“Therecouldbe…”Shestops.
Theglass.
Onceagain,itoverwhelmsher.Isaac’sroomfacesouttowardtheforest.Theterrainiswild:adensemassofsnow-coveredfirsliftinguptowardthemountains
Hereyesdartbetweenthetrees.Eventhoughthebranchesarecoveredinsnow,theoverallimpressionisofsomethingdark,impenetrable.
Shecanfeelherheartbeatingfaster.Swallowinghard,she’sconsciousofnotbeingabletocontrolherresponse.
Whyisshereactinglikethis?Thisvisceralresponse,everycellinherbodyrepelledbywhat’sinfrontofher.
Isaacfollowshergaze,faceimpassive.“Laurehatestheforest.Shealwayssaysit’stheperfectcoverforsomeonelookingin.Wecan’tseethem,buttheycanseeus.Thesewindows,lights…they’vegottheperfectview.”
“Enough.”Themoreshelooks,themoredistortedtheimagebecomes,likethetreesarereplicatinginfrontofher.
“Youokay?”Isaac’sstillstudyingher.
“Fine.”
“Youdon’tstillgetpanic—”
“No,”shesaysabruptly,cuttinghimoff.“Idon’t.”Sheovercompensateswithaloud,exaggeratedyawnbeforeforcinghergazeontotheroomitself.
Thesamelayoutashers,butalarger,busierartworkhangsonthewall,thesoftfurnishingsamilkiershadeofgray.Hereyeslockondetail:laptop,TV,unopenedbottlesofwater.Clothesandshoesarescatteredacrossthefloor.Laure’sshoes—apairofnavyNewBalancetrainers,scuffedhikingboots,suedeslip-ons.
Infact,mostofthestuffisLaure’s.Thejewelryontheside,amossy-coloredscarfslungoverthewardrobedoor,atuboffacecream,lidoff.
Elinlooksatthebed.HereisIsaac’sinfluence—thefaintimprintofhisbodyagainstthesheets,duvetsnarledintoalooseknot.Hesleptlikethatasachild.
Theybothhad.Likethebedwasunabletocontaintheirenergy.Shedoesn’tsleeplikethatanymore.Thatenergyhadlefthermonthsago.
Hergazemovestoalopsidedstackofbooksononeofthebedsidetables.French.Oneisopenfacedown,splayedwide,spinebentatthemiddle.Isaac’sright,sherealizes.There’sasenseofsuspendedanimation,likeLaure’ssimplygonedownforbreakfast.Itdoesn’tlooklikeadeliberatedecisiontoleave.“Where’sherphone?”
“Phone?”Isaac’sgazesnapsbacktoher.
Elinstiffens,somethinginhistonepricklingher.“I’mjusttryingtohelp.”
Henods,forcesasmile,butthereitisagain;ashadowofanexpression,gonebeforeshecanmakesenseofit.
“Here.”Pullingaphonefromhispocket,hetapsinacode,passesittoher.“I’vebeenthroughit.There’snothingodd.”
Elinlooksatthescreen.It’salmostfullycharged,connectedtothesamenetworkthatherphonehadfoundwhenshelandedinGeneva—SwisscomShescrollsthroughthecalllog.Thelastcallwasyesterdaymorning.
SomeonecalledJoseph.
Howwasthatpossible?SheheardLaureonthephoneafterdinner—surelythatcallshouldbeloggedhere?
Isaaclooksoverhershoulder,hisbreathuncomfortablyhotagainstherneck.“That’shercousin.”
“Andyouknoweveryoneelseonhere?”
“Ofcourse.Friends,likeIsaid.There’snothingonhere-maileither.”Steppingback,hisfacecolors.“Ididn’twanttolook,but—”
“Whataboutherlaptop?”
“Nothing.”Hegrabsitfromthedesk,passesittoher.
“It’ssyncedtoherphone.Thee-mailisthesame.
Everythingelselookslikeworkstuff.”
Elinperchesontheendofthebed,flickingthroughthedesktop,thesaveddocuments,internethistory.He’sright—italllooksworkrelated.Nothingobviouslyconcerning.
Puttingthelaptopbackonthedesk,sheheadsintothebathroom,Isaacrightbehindher.Makeupisscatteredaroundthesink—compacts,moisturizer.
SeveraltowelsarecurledinwonkyS’sonthefloor.Awhitecanvastoiletrybagisopenontheshelfabovethesink.
Delvingthroughthecontents,shefindspinkfat-belliedtweezers,waxstrips,ablusherbrushandcompact,tintedmoisturizer,mascara.Tamponsarezippedintoasidepocketalongwithantihistaminesandafoilstripofibuprofen.
Asshezipsthebagbackup,Elinfeelsacreepingsenseofuneasiness.Shewouldn’tleavethisbehind.IfLaurewereplanningongoingsomewhere,ifshewasanythinglikeher,thistoiletrybagwasasafetyblanket.Partofherdailyarmor.
Sheturns,abouttospeak,andit’sthensheseesit—inthereflectionofthemirror,Isaacgrabbingsomethingfromtheothersideoftheshelf,slidingitintohispocket.
Elinwatches,motionless.Heturns,smiles—hehasn’tnoticedshe’sseenhim.
Quick,butnotquickenough:Hetooksomething.Hidsomethingfromme.He’smeanttobeupsetabouthismissinggirlfriend,buthe’salreadybeingdeceitful.
Herfingersclench,disgustthickeninginherthroat,asolidmass.Howcouldshebesostupid?She’dnearlyfallenforit,thewords,thefeignedemotion,butpeopledon’tchange,dothey?Theabilitytolie,deceive,it’swovensodeep,it’simpossibletopickout,remove.
Whentheywerechildren,Isaacliedallthetime.Hehatedhismiddlestatus—twoyearsyoungerthanElin,twoyearsolderthanSam—solyingbecamehisdefault:awaytograbattention,totakeadvantage,toputthemintheirplace.
SheremembersSamproudlybringinghomehisfirstswimmingtrophy,Isaac’sbarelyconcealedexpressionofagonyastheirparentseffusivelypraisedhim.Twoweekslater,adeepgrooveappearedinthewoodenstand;morethanascratch—aslash.Somethingthatcouldneverbepassedoffasaccidental.
Isaacdeniedit,buttheyallknewitwashim.Knewwhathewascapableof.
“Thismustbelikebeingbackatworkforyou.”
Pickinguponeofthetowelsfromthefloor,hefeedsitthroughtherail.“Youknow,I’dneverhavethoughtit.
You,inthepolice,allthistime.”
“Iknow.”
“Youneverdidsay,”hecontinues,“whyyoudecidedonit.Whenwewerekids,youwantedtobeanengineer.”
Elinlooksathim,feelsthewordscoming,backingupinsideher.Shecouldjustcomeoutwithit,couldn’tshe?
Ichosetodoitbecauseofyou,Isaac.Becauseofwhatyoudid.20
Whatareyouworkingonatthemoment?”Isaacbreaksherreverie.
Itwouldbeeasytolie,butElincan’t.Can’taddanotherlayerontosomethingalreadyfartoocomplex.“I’mnotworking.I’monabreak,”shereplies,walkingbackintothebedroom.
“Abreak?”Isaacfollows,stopsbesidethewindow.
“Yes.Therewasthiscase,abigone.”She’sgabbling,heatchasingupherneck.“Iscrewedup.”
Imagescome,spooling:Splayedfingersacrossherface.Striationsofrock:variegatedstreaksofgrayandblack.Thewater.Alwaysthewater.
“Whathappened?”
“Ican’treallysay.”
“Elin,comeon,I’mhardlygoingtotellanyone.”
Shenods.“Thecasewashighprofile.MyfirstoneasaDS.Amurder,twogirls,bothfifteen.Theguyhadtiedtheirbodiestoaboat,letthepropellerdothework.”Elintenses,remembering.“Wehadnothingtogoon.Theboatwasstolen.Noprints.NoCCTVfootageattheharborthankstoblown-outcameras.Weendedupputtingoutanappeal.Online,papers.Apressconferencewiththeparents.”Sheclearsherthroat.“Amonthin,wehadabreakthrough.Ananonymoustip-offgaveusaname—MarkHayler.Wefoundhimonthedatabase.
PreviousarrestsforpossessionofClassAs,aconvictionforgrievousbodilyharm.”
“Aproperlead.”Isaacscratchesthecornerofhiseye,theskinsoreandangrylooking.
“Itwas.Wewenttohishomeaddress,buthe’dgotwindweweresearchingforhim.Wefoundhimathisex’s.Hesurprisedus,rantowardtheseafront.Wesplitup.Icaughtsightofhim,triedtocallitin,butmyradiowasbust.Ididn’tthink,justfollowed.Acrossthebeach,intothecaves.Iwentin,butIlosthim.BythetimeIcamebackout,thetidewasin,uptomyneck.Istartedswimming,buthewasinthewater,waiting.Hehitmewitharock.”Shetouchesherlip.“That’showIgotthescar.”
“Inoticed.”
“Hekeptpushingmeunder.I…Ifroze.Itwaslikemybody…itstoppedworking.Eventually,Iwentunder,didn’tcomebackup.”Shegivesafunny,brittlelaugh.“IthinkheassumedI’dhaditthen,leftmethere.”
Elindoesn’ttellhimhowwhenshewasunder,partofherhadalmostletgo.Ithadfeltsostrong.Thedesiretogivein.Stopfighting.Butherwilltolivecameoutstronger.ThewilltoknowthetruthaboutwhathappenedtoSam.
Thethought,onceagain,pullsherupsharp.Remindsherwhyshe’shere.“Itooksomesickleavethatturnedintoacareerbreak,andhereIam.Unofficiallyunemployed.”
“Youdon’twanttogoback?”
“It’snotthatIdon’twantto;IfeellikeIcan’t.Haven’tgotitinme.ThemistakesImade,notstoppingtothink,notwaitingforbackup,itmademequestionmyjudgment,myability…thefactthatIfrozelikethatinthewater,itmademerealizethatIhadn’tdealtwithstufflikeIthoughtIhad.”
Isaaclooksathersteadily.“Ididn’tknow.I’msorry.”
Elinfinallymeetshisgaze.Waryatfirst,thenallatonceit’sreplacedbyanangerthat’smorecomfortable,morefamiliar.Easiertocontrol.
“Wehaven’tspoken,Isaac.That’swhyyoudon’tknow.We’vehardlytalkedsinceyouleft.”
“Iknow.”Hisvoicecracks.“ButIdidn’tknowthenwhatwouldhappen.”
“YoumeanMum’scancer.”Herwordsarecold.
Isaac’sheaddips.“Yes.Ididn’tknowhowtocomeback,evenifIshould.Ididn’twanttoupsetthings.Rocktheboat.”Hisfaceissullen.
Elinstaresathimindisbelief,awhite-hotfurypushingthroughher.
Hedoesn’tgetit.
Evennow,hedoesn’tgetit.Doesn’tunderstandwhathisabsencehaddone,howithadtorntheirmotherapart.
“Upsetthings?Mumwantedtoseeyou,Isaac.Notjustphonecalls,oryourbullshite-mails.”Shefeelsherselfshaking.“Youdidn’tevencometoherfuneral.Doyouknowhowthatfelt?Howitlookedtootherpeople?”
“That’swhatit’sallaboutforyou,isn’tit?”Hestiffens.
“Howitlooks.”
Elinbalks.Thereitisagain,surfacing:therealhim
Sharplittlewordslikepoisonousdarts.“Stoptryingtoturnitonme.Thisisaboutyou.”
“Icouldn’tgetoffwork.Itoldyou.”
“Rubbish.That’sjustanexcuse.”
Isaac’shandgoesbackuptohiseye,tuggingathislid.
“You’renotevengoingtotrytojustifyit?”
Silence,then:“Fine.Youwantthetruth?Ifeltlikeshit,Elin.Guilty.GuiltyIhadn’tbeenback,thatIdidn’tcallenough.GuiltyofhowIleftit.”
Herthoughtsskitter.“Soyoudidthinkaboutit?”
Isaacnods.“IkeptwonderingifIshouldcomeback,tovisit,butpartofmeknewmebeingaroundwouldhavetheoppositeeffect.Thatitwouldhurther.”
“Hurt?Mumhadbeenhurtforyears.EversinceSam.”
Isaacvisiblyflinchesathisname.She’sseizedbyasuddendesiretoaskhim:DoyouthinkaboutSam,Isaac?Doyou?
Becauseshedoes.Shethinksabouthimallthetime;Samjumpingoffthekayak,skinnybodymakingshapesintheair.SamontheDowns,hiskitecuttingtheskyintopiecesofblue.SamholdingherhandwhenIsaacshouted.Sweet-hotwhispersinherear:Iwon’tletgo.
“Sam,whathappened,itdestroyedMum.Youknowthat.Thatday,thedaywefoundhim…”Herwordsarecomingrapidly,toorapidly.She’sscaredshecan’tcontrolthem,won’tbeabletostopherselffromaskinghimoutright.
Didyoudoit,Isaac?Wasityou?
Panicflaresinhiseyes.“Let’snotgointothatnow.
YouwantedtoknowthereasonIdidn’tcomeback.”
Elinwavers.Shecouldstilldoit,askhim,butwhatifshescareshimoff?She’llbeleftwithnothing.
Finally,shenods.
“Mum…shewasbetter,”Isaacfalters.“Withyou,lateron,shefoundan…equilibrium.YouwerealwayssomuchbetterwithherthanIwas.Whenshegotill,Iknewseeingmewouldmakeitworse.She’dhavestressedaboutmelivinghere,takingsolongtofindajob…”
Elinlooksathim,hercheekspricklingwithheat,unabletobelievewhathe’sdoing:tryingtojustifyhisselfishness.Openinghermouth,she’sabouttoretaliate,whenherattentionispulledtowardthewindow.There’sahelicopterhoveringinthesky.It’spaintedredandwhite,asprayofshootingstarsbrandingtheside.
“What’sthat?”Shecanhearitnow:therhythmicwhump-whumpoftheblades.
“AnAirZermatthelicopter.”Hiseyesfollowitsmovementtowardtheforest.
“Whywoulditbehere?”Elinsquintsupward.Thepropellersaremovingsofastthey’reinvisible.Ablur.
“Idon’tknow.Usuallythey’reusedfortransportingthings—buildingsupplies,avalanchedefenses.It’sthecheapestwayofgettingthingsaroundthemountain.”
Shecatchesanothermovement:two4x4s,drivingupthewindingroadtowardthehotel,tiressendingafinedustingofsnowintotheair.
Thefirstvehiclehasemergencylightsontheroof.
Lurid,fluorescentorangestreaksmarkthebonnet.
Whiteandorangestarsformtheshapeofaflagontheside.Nexttothat,asinglewordinblack,inlowercase:
“police.”
Thecarsstopneartheentrancetothehotel.Elinwatchestwogroupsclimbout.Sixpeople,seven.Thetwofromthefirstcararewearingnavytrousers,atwo-tonebluejacket,“police”emblazonedontheback.Thesecondgroupareinmoretechnicalclothing—softshellswiththinsleevelessjacketsoverthetop.
There’sanurgencytotheirmovementsastheyrushtothebootofthe4×4,startpullingoutvariouspiecesofequipment.Leaningonthetailgate,theytugofftheirshoes,replacingthemwithskiboots.Asifinunison,theysliponblackharnesses.Variouscarabiners,pulleys,andslingsareattachedtoeach,swingingagainsttheirchestsastheywork.
AshivershootsdownElin’sspine:acoldprickleoffear.“Whoarethey?”
“TheGrouped’Intervention.”Isaac’svoiceistight.
“Likepolicespecialforces.They’retrainedtodealwithsimilarsituations.Hostage.Terror.Some,likethese,workinthehighmountains.”
“Whywouldtheybehere?”
Jawtwitching,hisgazemovestothehelicopter,swoopinglowoverthemountain.“Idon’tknow.”
Thegrouponthegroundhoistlargerucksacksontotheirbacks.ElinandIsaacwatchastheyputonhelmets,liftskisoutofthecar.Theywalkquicklytowardthepathleadingtotheforest.Forthefirsttime,Elinnoticesa
familiarmaninagrayfleecetalkingtothefirstgroupofpolice,pointingattheforest.
“LucasCaron,”Isaacmurmurs.
Elinnods.It’sthensheseesit:ontherugbeneathherfeet.
Blood.
Barelyvisibleunlessyouknewwhatyouwerelookingat,hadseenitbefore.
Ahazysplatterpattern,bloomingoutintiny,raggedcircles.21
Adeleisshivering.Herlimbsarenumb,prickling.
Howlonghasshebeenasleep?Hours?Thewholenight?It’simpossibletotell:therealworldseemstohavedissolvedaroundher.Whereversheis,it’sdark.No,shecorrects,pulsequickening—notdark.
Something’sfastenedaroundhereyes—arough,scratchyfabric,catchingonhereyelashesasshetriestoopenthem.
Panicpullsthroughher.Seizedwithasudden,overwhelmingclaustrophobia,shekicksout,triesjerkingherarmsandlegs,buttheywon’tmove.
StopCalmdown.Workoutwhat’sgoingon.
Adeleslowsdownthistime,isolatingthemovements.
Shewrigglesherhands,herfingers,realizesthatthey’rebound,fastenedbehindherback.Anklestoo.
She’sstillsittingonthefloor,backproppedagainstawall.
Keepgoing,shetellsherself.Ifshe’salone,whichshethinkssheis,sheneedstoorientherself.Workoutwheresheis.
Adelelistens.Allshecanhearisdripping,asteadytrickle.Issheinthehotelsomewhere?Theycan’thavemovedherfar,surely?Notwithoutsomeonenoticing.
Whatifsheshouts?Triestogetsomeone’sattention?
It’sthenshetastessomethinginhermouth:coppery,salty.Ittakesamomenttorealizewhatitis.
Blood.
Adeletriestorunhertonguearoundherteeth,workoutwhereit’scomingfrom,butshecan’t.There’s
somethinginhermouth…agag.Hermouthissonumb,shehadn’tnoticed.
Fearflaringinherstomach,herthoughtsrunfullpelt:You’regoingtodiehere,aren’tyou?You’renevergoingtomakeitoutofthis.Youcan’tmove,can’tshout.Noonewillfindyou.
Shetakesadeepbreath.Stop.Shehastogetthroughthis.ForGabriel.
Think.
She’sfit,strongfromthephysicaldemandsofherjob.
Shecanfiguresomethingout.
Anideastartstoform:shecantakeadvantageofthefactthat,whoeverthispersonis,heorshemightnotcomebackforawhile.Thatmightbeenoughtimetogetasenseofthespace,whatshemightbeabletousetogetfree…
Therewon’tbeanotherway,shethinks,panicrisingupinsideher.Noonewillmissher.
Gabrielisn’tduebackfromhisdad’sforaweek.Hewon’tthinkitunusualshehasn’tcalledforafewdays.
Stephanelikeshisweektobehisandhisalone.Truthbetold,it’salwayssuitedher.Adeledidn’twanttohearthehigh,overenthusingtonesofLise,Stephane’sgirlfriend,inthebackground.
Workwon’traisethealarmeither.She’snotonshiftforseveraldays.
Adeletenses.Shecanhearfootsteps.
Herplans…they’retoolate.
Hercaptorisback,close.Adelecansmellthem:somethingchemical,caustic,thestarched,bleachedodorofahospital.
Somethingelse,too,hangingheavyintheair.It’sthescentofsomethingprimal—excitement,anticipation.
Whoeverthisis…theywanttohurtyou.
Anothernoise:breathing,laboredandheavy.They’rerightbesideyou.
Terrormounting,shetriestomove,butherwristsarethrobbing,theropeburningintoherflesh.
Allatoncetherearefingersonherface,touchingandprobing.Theblindfoldisrippedawaywithsuchforceityanksthefleshonhercheeks,leavingthemthrobbing.
Tearsstinghereyes,butsheforcesthemback.
Aflashlightbeam,swingingwildly,ricochetsfromfloortoceilingandbackagain.
Itsettlesonherface,thefierceglareblindingher.
Adeleblinks,wantstoputherhandup,shieldhereyesfromthesearingferocityofthelight,butshecan’t.
Theflashlightbeamdipsmomentarilyandscudsalongthefloor.
Takingherchance,shelooksup,adrenalinecoursingthroughherbody.Adelecan’tseemuch;hereyesarestilladjustingtothelight.Everytimeshemovesherhead,thedimsceneinfrontofherseemstorotate,butshecanseeonething,aboveanythingelse:theoutlineofamask.
Thefigure,blurredandamorphous,crouchesdown.
Withthelooseclothingandthemask,it’sstillimpossibletotellwhetherit’samanorawoman.
Hercaptorpositionstheflashlightonthefloor,beamfocusedonthebackwall.Theystartrootingthroughabagonthefloor.
Whataretheydoing?
Shewaits:silence.
There’sastrangemomentofsuspension,alag.Adelefeelsasuddenrushoffury.Iftheywanttohurther,killher,thenbedonewithit.Notthis…notthisdelay.
Shemakesadecision.Ifhercaptorcomesnear,she’llusetheonlyweaponshehas:theforceofherbody.She’lljerkforward,strikethemwiththefullweightofherhead.
Inflictwhateverdamageshecan.Sheisn’tgoingtomakeiteasy.
Buttheydon’tmoveanycloser.Instead,theyreachoutahand,apieceofpaperheldbetweentwofingers.
Thepaperisonlyinchesfromherface,soclosetheimageonitblurs.
Hercaptormovesitbackward.Thephotographresolves.
Adeleinstantlyrecognizesit—amalebody.Lifeless.
Mutilated.Bloody.
Shenowknowsthatthisisnomistakenidentity.Norandomassault.Thisisplanned,meticulouslyplanned.
Revenge.
Herstomachturns.Shewantstoretch,butsheknowsshecan’t.Withthegaginhermouth,she’llchoke.
Instead,shetriestocontrolherbreathing.Pullairdeepintoherlungs.
Don’tmoveamuscle.Don’treact.Don’tletthemknowthey’regettingtoyou.
SheforcesherselftothinkaboutGabriel.Supplantthebluntforceoftheimagewithhappyones:hisbabytoescurlingupwhenhefed.Fat,starfishhandsclutchingsoggybatonsofcucumber.Thegreen-blueofhisirises.
ButthevisionofGabrieldissolves:theimageinfrontofherisreplacedwithanother.
Aclose-up.
Thephotographplummetstothefloor.Shecansensemovement,behindher.Ahandatthebackofherhead,inherhair.There’saslackeningaroundhermouth.
Hercaptorhasremovedthegag.Perhapsthisisit,shethinks.Perhapsthephotoswerethepointofallthis.
Theywantedhertoseethephotos,andnowthey’lllethergo.It’sthensheseesit:anothermask,directlyinfrontofher,thincracksintherubberlikesores.
Adelewondersifshe’sseeingdouble.Ifthere’sanotherpersonintheroom.
Butasthemaskmoves,getscloser,sherealizesitisn’tanotherpersonatall
Themaskisforher.22
Isaacfollowshergaze,eyeswidening.“Shit,Ihadn’tnoticed.”
“Youhadn’tnoticed,”Elinsaysevenly,herpulsepoundinginherears,“thatthere’sbloodontherug?”
“No,butit’shardlyanything,isit?”Crouchingdown,Isaacrocksforwardonhishaunches.“Besides,howdoyouevenknowit’sblood?Itcouldbeanything,astain…”
“It’sblood.”Herfingerscurlintoafist.
“Well,ifitis,it’sprobablybeenthereages.”Tinybeadsofmoisturearebreakingoutonhisupperlip.
Elinshakesherhead.“Idon’tthinkso.Thestandardofcleaningisreallyhighinahotellikethis.Markslikethis—therugwouldbecleaned,orreplaced.”
Hertoneisbrisk,matter-of-fact,butinternally,she’sraging:Hehasanswersforeverything,doesn’the?
Neverfazed.
Isaacstraightens,pusheshishairawayfromhisface.
“Youthinkit’sLaure’s?”
“Itlooksrecent,soI’mguessingit’sfromyouorher.
Haseitherofyouhurtyourselfsinceyougothere?Acut,or…”
RelieffloodsIsaac’sfeatures.“Iknowwhatitis.Laurecutherselfshavingtheothernight.Itwasdeep,wouldn’tstopbleeding.IhadtogetheraBand-Aid,fromdownstairs.Shemusthavewalkedacrosstherug.”
Elinprocessesit:Laurecutherselfshaving.It’sthemostlikelyexplanation.
Butanotherthoughtisthere,beatingthroughherhead:
He’sdoneitbefore.He’scapable.
Elin’seyesfixonthevaseinthecorner,theglassreflectingatinyprismoftheroom,swimminginfrontofher.Herheadfeelslikeit’sgoingtoexplode.Shedoesn’tknowwhattofeel.
Already,shethinks,she’sbeingsuckedin,turnedthiswayandthat,noideawhat’supordown.She’sforgottenthis—howmercurialitis,beingwithIsaac.
Tryingtogaugehim…itwaslikelookingthroughwater.Oneminuteyouhavetheperfectview,canseerighttothebottom,butwithinseconds,thewater’sshifted,andallyoucanseeissomethinghazyandunclear.
Isaactouchesherarm.“Elin,areyouallright?”
Shehesitates,abeattoolong.“Fine.”Shegivesatightsmile,buthereyesfindmoreblood.
Morerust-coloredspecksdottingthesoftfibersoftherug.
???
Backinherroom,Elinclosesthedoorandleansagainstit,waitsforthechurningnauseatosubside.
There’sanotefromWill.
Goneforaswim.Joinme?
Shekicksoffhershoes,walksovertothewindow.Theweatherhascommitted,setin—thepaleblueskiesofonlyafewhoursagonowconsumedbythickgraycloud.
Snowisfallingfuriously.Everythingisaperfect,pristinewhite:thecarsparkedaroundthissideofthebuilding,thehotelsignage,theoutsidelights.
Yeteverytimesheblinks,sheseesnotwhite,butred.
Bloodred.
Bloodontherug.Tinydroplets.
HerthoughtsjumptowhatIsaacdidwhileshewasinthebathroom:hidsomethingfromher.Slippedsomethingintohispocket.
Questionsricochetthroughherhead.
Whatcoulditbe?HowisitconnectedtoLaure?
ElinpullsopentheFrenchdoors.Ascoldairfloodstheroom,shetriestogetherthoughtsinorder.LogicsaysthatIsaac’sexplanationforthebloodmadesense;thatwhateverhepocketedwasprivate,unconnectedwithLaure’ssupposeddisappearance,butitstillgnawsawayather:Ifhe’ddeceivemelikethis,thenwhatelseishecapableof?
Thetruthis,shehasnoidea.Elinknowsnothingabouthim,hisrelationshipwithLaure.She’sonlyskimmedthesurfaceofhislifethesepastfewyears—
filteredscrapsofinformationhe’dthrowntheirway.
HislifebeforehelefttheUKisclearer—hisdegreefromExeterincomputersciences,theyearofftrainingtobeaskiinstructor.HecamebacktotheUK,didapostgradthefollowingyear.Aftercompletinghisresearch,heworkedattheuniversity,taughtforafewyears,andthenmovedtoSwitzerlandin2016.
Sincethen?
Ablank.Wholechunksmissing.
ElinpullsherMacBookfromherbag.Sheplacesitonthedesk,flipsitopen.
Sittingdown,shetypessomekeywordsintoGoogle.
IsaacWarner.Switzerland.
Theresultsappear.Afewlinesdown,somethinginteresting:askischoolinCrans-Montana.Isaac’sname,listedunder“Staff.”
Elinclicksonthelink.Inthesecondsthatfollow,athumbnailimageofhimappears.It’saheadshot,alltanandwraparoundsunglasses.Afewlinesofinformation:Part-TimeInstructor,gradedasBASILevel2.Specializesinteachingchildren,beginners.
Fine,apart-timejob,butwhataboutthelecturing?
Goingbacktothemainsearchpage,shetypesmorespecifickeywords:IsaacWarner,computersciences,
UniversityofLausanne.
Elinskimsthefirstfewresults.Stillnothingreferencingtheuniversity
Hasshegotthenamewrong?Shedoesn’tthinkso;hementioneditseveraltimesSowhyisn’titshowingup?
Alarmbellsaresoundinginherhead,butshesilencesthem.Shemustn’tjudge.Mustn’tjumptoconclusions.
Elintriesagain.Thistime,shegoesstraighttotheuniversitywebsite.Clickingthroughlinkafterlink,shefinallyfindsthedepartmentalpageforcomputersciences.
Under“Staff”:alistofnames;morethumbnailphotographs.
NoneofthemisofIsaac.
Sheforceshereyestofocus,looksagain.Nothing.
Liftinghereyesfromthescreen,Elinpicksupherphonewithasenseofdread,awareofsomethingspiraling:onethingleadingtoanother,pickingupmomentum
Whatshe’sdoing…thisprobing,it’swrong,aninvasionofhisprivacybecauseofsomeunsubstantiatedidea,butshehastoknow.Knowifwhathedidintheroomjustthenwasanaberration,aone-off,orifIsaacstillrantruetoform.
IfIsaacstilllied.
Astheuniversityswitchboardconnectshertothecomputersciencesdepartment,nervesarepricklingherstomach.She’sputonhold.Tinnymusicplays,aforeign,unfamiliartune.Midbar,themusicbreaks.“Bonjour,MariannePavet.”
Elin’sunprepared,scrabblingfortherightwords.
“Hello,thisis…RachelMarshall.IhavetherésuméofaMr.IsaacWarner.Iwaswonderingifsomeonefromthedepartmentcouldgivemeareference?”
MariannecutsheroffinheavilyaccentedEnglish.
“No,noreference.I’mnotabletogiveareference.”
There’sanawkwardpause.
“Please.He’slistedyourdepartment.”
Asigh.“Look,I’mnotsurewhyMr.Warnerwouldgiveournameasasuitablereference.Hewasdismissedlastyear.”
Elinsucksinherbreath.“Dismissed?Areyousurewe’retalkingaboutthesameperson?IsaacWarner?”
“Yes,hewasdismissed.”Thevoiceisbrusquenow,impatient.
“CanIaskwhatfor?”Herheartispounding.
Anotherlie:hisjobwastheexcusefornotcomingtotheirmother’sfuneral,wasn’tit?
There’saweightysilence.
“Intimidatingothermembersofstaff.I’msorry.
That’sallI’mpreparedtosay.”
There’saclick.Thelinegoesdead.
Elinputsthephoneonthedesk.WhatshouldIdonext?
Shehastoworkoutifthere’smoretothis,andifIsaacwon’ttellherthetruth,she’llhavetoasksomeoneelse.
Butwho?WhohereknewbothIsaacandLaure?
HerthoughtsflickertothemurmuredconversationandlaughterthatLaurehadsharedwithMargot,thereceptionistatthespa.They’dseemedfriendlyenough.
ButthethoughtofspeakingtoherbehindIsaac’sbacktriggersacoldstaboffear.
Shecloseshereyesandhearsechoedthreats.
Onlybabiestellandyou’reababy.
Telltelltityourtonguewillsplit.
Herheadisthrobbing.
DothatagainandI’llkillyou.23
Comeforapropertour?Yourpartner’salreadyhadit.”Margotsmiles,herfacehalfconcealedbythelargecomputerscreeninfrontofher.“He’sgotthepooltohimself.”
“Notexactly,”Elinreplies,thedoortothespaclosingbehindherwithasoftthunk.“Iwantedtohaveaquickchat.”
Margot’seyesflickerover,hermouthstretchingintoalittleOofsurprise.
SheremindsElinofLaure;edgyinthatpared-back,Europeanwaythatalwaysmakesherfeelslightlyinadequate.Croppedhair,gray-paintedfingernails,minimalmakeup—artfulsoleflickofeyeliner,darkstreakofmattelipstick.Silverhairgrips,decoratedwithtinystars,studthefrontsectionsofhair.
YetthecloserElingets,themoretheillusionisshattered.Margot’snailsarechipped,bittendown,thelipstickbleedingintofinelinesetchedaroundhermouth.
Cominglevelwiththedesk,Elinspotsahalf-eatencroissantontheshelfbelow
“IsthisaboutLaure?”Smallflakesofpastryarestillstucktoherlips.“Isshestillnotback?”Margottugsatherdarktop,pullingitlooseoverherstomach.
She’snotatease.Thehastyremovalofthepastry,thismaskingofherbody…she’ssofterthanshe’dlike,andconsciousofit.She’stall,too,Elinobserves,lookingatherlonglegsfoldedbeneaththedesk.
“No,I…”Hesitating,Elinfeelsaflashofpanic.Isthisamistake?Isshelettinghermindrunawaywithher?Laure’sonlybeengoneafewhours.
Toolate.She’sherenow.
“Shedefinitelyhasn’tbeenhereatanypointthismorning?”
“No.I’vebeenheresincethespaopened.”Margot’seyesflickertothedoorasifshehalfexpectshertosuddenlyappear.“Youreallythinkshe’smissing?Thatit’ssomethingserious?”
Margot’sfacedarkens.Elincatchesaflashofsilverinherears,tiny,striatedarrowspointingtothefloor.
“Wedon’tknow,butthiswasmeanttobetheirengagementcelebration,sohertakingoff…Isaacthinksit’soutofcharacter.”
“He’sright.Laurewouldn’twanttoworryanyone.Notdeliberately.”
Elinconsidersthis.Shehastotreadcarefullynow.
“Laurehasn’tmentionedanythingtoyou?Anyconcernsthatmightexplainwhyshe’dleavesosuddenly?”Sheforcesasmile.“I’vetriedtoaskIsaac,but…”
Anawkwardpause.Again,Margot’shandcomesuptoherwaist,looseningthefoldsoffabricoverherstomach.
“Look,thisisawkward.”Hercheeksareflushed.“He’syourbrother.”
“It’sfine.”Elinsoftenshertone.“Ijustwanttomakesureeverything’sokay.”
Margotnods.“Ithinkthey’vebeenhavingproblems.
Laure…”Shebitesherlip.“Recently,she’sfeltabit…
howdoIsay?Claustrophobic…intherelationship.”
Elinnoticesthecuriousrhythmtoherspeech.Itisn’tjusttheGermaninflectiontoherEnglish,it’sstaccato;abeattoolongbetweeneachword.
“Sincethey’vebeenengaged?”
“No.Beforetoo.”Margothunchesoverthedesk,pickingatherfingers.Tinyfragmentsofgraynailpolishfluttertothedesk.
“Whygetengagedifshe’shavingdoubts?”
“Laurethoughtmakingacommitmentwouldhelp,thatiftheywereengaged,Isaacwouldfeelmoresecure.”
Margotsweepstheflakesofnailvarnishaway,knockingherbagoverintheprocess.
Ittumblestothefloor,contentsflying.Loosehairgripsscatter,togetherwithnailvarnish,abook,anenvelope.Margotbendsdown,scrabblingtopickthemup.
“Hasitworked?”
Margotshrugs,flushing.“I…Idon’tquiteknowhowtoputthis.Shesaidrecently,Isaac’sbeen…aggressive.
Nothimself.”
“Aggressive?”Elintriestokeepherexpressionneutral.
Margotnods.“Shedidn’tgointoit.Look,speakingaboutitlikethismakesitsoundlikethey’renothappy.
They’refine.Laureworries…that’snormal,surely?
Whenyou’reabouttocommit.”Shehesitates.“I’mnotsureshemeantit.”
Elintriestoquellthegrowingsenseofuneasegnawingatherstomach.“Hasshementionedanythingelseshe’sworriedabout?Friends,family?”
Margotshakesherhead.
“Whataboutwork?Isaacsaidshe’sbeenworkingalotlately.”
SomethingflickersacrossMargot’sface,sofleetingthatElinisn’tsureifshe’simaginedit.“Yes,buttherehasn’tbeenanypressure.Laurelovesherjob.”
Elinnods.
“Look,I’veprobablysaidtoomuch.They’vegottheirissues,butlikeIsaid,Idon’tthinkitmeansanything.”
Sowhymentionit?Whyreferenceanyofthisifhermindhasn’tautomaticallymadetheconnection?MargotmightnotconsciouslywanttoimplicatetheirrelationshipworriesinLauregoingmissing,butshehas.
“Iunderstand.There’sonemorething…Iwonderedifyouknewwhythepolicearehere?”
“It’snothingtodowithLaure,”Margotsayshastily.
“Ifthat’swhatyou’rewondering.”
“Sowhatisit,then?”
Theflushonhercheeksdarkens.“Idon’tthinkI’mmeanttoknow.”
“Please.”
Apause.Elinholdsherbreath.Tellme.Tellme.
“They’vefoundsomeremains.Abody.”Margotlowershervoice.“Behindtheforest.Theythinkit’sthearchitectwhodesignedthehotel.He’sbeenmissing.”
DanielLemaitre.Relieffloodsherbody.Itisn’tLaure.
“Isaactoldusabouthimyesterday.Peoplethoughthehadbusinesstroubles,didn’tthey?”
“That’sonetheory.”
“Thereweremore?”
Margotnods.“Look,I’llbehonest.Therenovation,itstirredup…howdoyousayit?Badfeeling.”Hervoicepitcheshigher.“Ithinkpeoplebelievethathisdisappearancewasconnectedtothat.”
“Badfeeling?Inwhatsense?”
“Someofthelocalsdidn’twantahotelhere.Thereweredemonstrations,petitions.Ittookyearstogetthroughplanningbecausethereweresomanyobjections.”
“Why?”
“Theusualvarietyofreasons.”Margotshrugs.
“Designtoomodern,environmentalconcerns,enoughhotelsintheareaalready…”Shehesitates.“Tobehonest,Ithinksomewereexcusesforsomethingpeopledidn’twanttovoice.”
“Andwhat’sthat?”
“Forthefactpeopledidn’twantanythingbuilthere.”
Hervoiceisbarelyawhisper.“Idon’tthinkitmatteredwhatthey’dproposed.Hotel,park,factory,peoplewouldn’thavelikedit.”
“Why?”Elinasksthequestion,butsheknowswhat’scoming,becauseshefeelsittoo.Eversinceshesteppedoutofthetransferbus,she’sfeltit—thatcreepingsenseofsomethingdark,threatening.
“Thisplace…peopledon’tlikeit.Thefactthatitusedtobeasanatorium.Superstition,Isuppose.”
Margot’sfacecloses.“IthinkDanielborethebruntofthat.”
Elinfalters.Whatshe’simplyingisthatDaniel’sdeathwasn’tanaccident.“Youthinksomeonehurthimbecauseofhisinvolvementinthehotel?”
“Itwouldn’tsurpriseme.AsmuchasIlikemyjob,sometimesthisplace…itjustfeelswrong.”
“Inwhatway?”Elin’sstomachpitches.
“Ican’tdescribeitanyotherway.Justwrong.”
Elinforcesasmile,butachillpushesthroughherassheprocessesMargot’swords.Thelogicalpartofherbrainissayingit’ssimplyanoldevent.Potentiallyapastcrime,unconnectedwithLauregoingmissing,butsomething’snigglingather.
AsshegoestofindWillinthepoolarea,shefeelsanotherflickerofunease:Laure’sdisappearancecomingatthesametimeasthediscoveryofDaniel’sbody.Thetwoeventscolliding…itfeelslikeanomen.24
Will’sdoinglaps;armsslicingthroughtheshimmeringwaterinquick,cleanstrokes.Thisisnoperformance;he’sathomeinthewater.Atease.
Elinfixeshereyesonhim,followstherhythmicmotion.Attheendofthepool,heflips,changesdirection.Sheturnsherhead,blinks.
Toobright.
Thespotlightsontheceilingarereflectingofftheglass,thewater,fineslicesoflightricochetingoffitlikeblades.
Dizzied,shetakesadeepbreath.Controlit.Don’tletitcontrolyou.Keepbreathing.Inandout.Repeat.
“Will,”shecalls,walkingtotheedgeofthepool.
Hedoesn’thearher.
“Will,”sherepeats,louder.
Thistimehenoticesherandslows;theeasymotionbecomingstaccato.Swimmingtotheside,helevershimselfoutofthepoolwithhisarms.“Watchingme,wereyou?”Willgrins.“Iwouldn’thaveputyouasavoyeur.”Exaggeratingtheword“voyeur,”heraisesaneyebrow.
“Nothingwrongwithabitofleching.”Elinsmiles,butit’sfleeting,hermindpullingtoIsaac,whatshe’slearned.
“What’sup?”FatdropletsofwaterfalloffWill’sshoulders,hittingthetiles.“AsmuchasI’dliketobelieveyou’vecometoadmiremysuperiorswimmingskills,something’swrong…Icantell.”
“It’sIsaac.”Bringingherhandtohermouth,Elinbitesatherthumbnail.“I’vebeentoseehim.”
Hehaulshimselftostanding,stilldripping,hisbreathinglabored.“Letmeguess…Laure’sback?”
Elinobservesthetautmuscleinhisarms,thebroadchest,thestrongshoulderssplatteredwithtinyfreckles.
Atthirty-fourheisn’tboy-lean,buthe’sstillathispeak:nosoftening,nopaunch.
Thisfitnesswasoneofthethingsthathadattractedherwhenthey’dfirstmet.Itreassuredher:visibleproofthathewasself-motivated,disciplined,strong—mentallyandphysically.Hewouldn’tneedtobeproppedupbyher.
“No…”Elin’sfindingithardtoformthewords.“Ifoundblood.Bloodontherugintheirroom.Itlookedfresh.”
Willsmiles,thewhitesofhiseyeslacedwithredfromthechlorine.“Elin,comeon,youcan’tthink—”
“No,ofcoursenot.”Elinkeepshervoicelight.“Hesaidshecutherselfshaving.”
“Sosheprobablydid.”
“Itisn’tjustthat,though.WhenIwaslookingaroundinthebathroom,Isaacpocketedsomething.”
“Pocketedsomething?”Willrepeats,hiseyesfixedonher.Withouthisglasses,hisirisesseemmorevivid.
“Yes.BeforeIcouldseewhatitwas.”
“Itcouldhavebeenanything.Somethingprivate.
Condoms,pills…”
“Maybe.”
Lacinghisfingerstogether,hestretchesouthisarms.
Thegestureisrelaxed,easy,butsheknowsit’smaskingsomethingelse:he’spissedoff.Frustrated.
Hedoesn’tknowwhyshe’sdwellingonthis.
Willdoesn’toverthink.It’safamilything.Elin’sevenheardhissistersayasmuch—theinformalfamilymotto.
Dealwithit.Moveon.
She’sneverquiteknownafamilylikeWill’sbefore.
He’sthemiddlechild—olderbrother,youngersister,andallofthem,parentsincluded,arethehale-and-heartytype,nevermakingafussaboutanything.
It’snotinastiff-upper-lipway,brushingthingsunderthecarpet—they’resimplyforensicintheirapproach.Ifanissuecomesup,they’lltalkitthrough,endlessly,exhaustively,andthendealwithit.Aplanismadeandthenexecuted.Jobdone.Nolookingback.Noregrets.
Thisisonlypossiblebecausethey’reallsoopen,intouchwiththeiremotionsandeachother—luncheverySunday,cozychatsandin-jokes.Holidaystogethereachyear.ElinsometimeswonderswhetherWilltakesitforgranted,allthatloveandaffection.
Shecan’thelpbutbealittlejealous,notonlyofhowclosetheyare,buthoweasyitseems—noweirdsilencesorsecrets,nogameplaying.Afamilylifethat’scompletelyoppositetoanythingshe’severknown.
“Youknow,”Willstarts.“You’reoverthinkingthiswholething.It’s…weird.She’sonlybeengoneforamorning.LikeIsaid,Ithinkit’samassiveoverreactiononIsaac’spart.Don’tgetsuckedin.Allthisdrama,it’sdeliberate.She’llturnup,andyou’llhavewastedthefirstdayofwhatwasmeanttobeaholiday…”
Hetrailsoff.Elinknowswhathewantstosay,buthestoppedhimself.Evennow,he’stiptoeingaroundher.
Strugglingtotellherhowitis.
“Thinkingallthisstuff,”Willfinishes.“Let’sjustenjoythis.Youandme.”Hesmiles.“Wemanageditlastnight,didn’twe?”
Elinhesitates.“Butthere’ssomethingelsetoo.I’vejustspokentothereceptionist,Margot.ShesaidthatLaureandIsaachadbeenarguing,thatshewasworriedabouttheengagement.”
Willshrugs.“That’snormal,surely?Makingacommitment,it’sabigstep.”
“ButIthinkIsaac’sbeenlying.Ifoundouthe’sbeensackedfromhisjobattheuniversity.Harassment.Hetoldmehewasstillworkingthere.”
“Andhowdoyouknowallthis?”Hisvoiceisdangerouslycalm.
“I”—shefalters,cringing,knowinghowherwordswillcomeacross—“IrangtheuniversityinLausanne.”
Willstepsback,despaircrossinghisfeatures.“You’vebeendiggingaroundforinformationabouthim?”Apulseistickinginhischeek.“Elin,thiswasmeanttobeachanceforyoutogetawayfromalltheshithauntingyouathome,butthis…you’reputtingyourselfbacktosquareone.”
“Butwhatifsomething’shappenedtoLaure?”Hereyesaresmarting.
“ForChrist’ssake.”Will’svoicerisesanoctave.
“Nothing’shappenedtoher.”
“That’snottheonlything.WhenIwaswithIsaac,thepolicearrived.”Sheknowsshe’sgabbling,butwhycan’theseewhatshesees?Howitpiecestogether?“They’vefoundabody,behindtheforest.Margotsaidtheythinkitmightbethearchitectwhowentmissing.”
“DanielLemaitre?”
“Yes.”
“Andyouthinkthat’stodowithLaure?”
“Idon’tknow,butitjustdoesn’tfeelright.Lauredisappearing,nowthis.”
“Elin,look,evenifsomething’swrong,ifsomething’shappenedtoLaure,it’snotyourresponsibility.”Will’stalkingtooslowly,toocarefully.“Iknowit’shard,inasituationlikethis,butyou’renotadetectiveany—”Hestops,flushing.
Sheblinks.Sheknowswhathewasabouttosay.
You’renotadetectiveanymore.Thewordshurt,buthe’sright.Sheisn’tadetectiveandthisisn’thercase
Isn’tacaseatall.Butstill,itstings.Thefirsttimeanyone’ssaiditoutloud.
I’mnotadetectiveanymore.
Atwhatpointhadshestoppedbeingthat?Hadotherpeoplestoppedbelievingthat?Whenthethree-monthbreakturnedintosix?Nine?Itfeelshorrible,unnatural.
Herjobhadalwaysdefinedher.AfterSamdied,sheknewitwasallshewantedtodo.Findthetruth.Getanswers.Ifshecan’tdothatanymore,whatisshe?Whoisshe?
Shecan’tkeepthetremorfromhervoice.“He’smybrother.I’mtryingtohelp.”
“You’regoingaboveandbeyondhelp,andifI’mbeinghonest,I’mnotsurewhy.Wherewashewhenyouneededhim?Whenyourmumwasill?”Willlooksathersteadily.“ThewayIseeit,you’rewillingtoputyourselfoutmoreforhimthanyouareforus.”
“Will,comeon.It’snotacompetition,youversusIsaac—”
“It’snothingtodowiththat.I’mserious,Elin.”Hisvoiceissoft.“I’veseenmoreemotionfromyouaboutthis,aboutIsaac,thanIhaveaboutusmovingforward.”
“Movingforward?”Elinrepeats.Delaytactics.Sheknowswhathe’stalkingabout.Lastmonth,he’ddumpedapileofmagazinesonthecoffeetable.Designeryhomeones.Talkedaboutpaintcolors,storagesolutions.Askedheropiniononterraceversusapartment.
“YouknowwhatI’msaying.Movingintogether.
Nearlythreeyears,andwe’restilllivinginseparateapartments.”Heswallowshard.“Iwantustobetogether,Elin,allthetime.Sharetheday-to-daystuff.Beapropercouple.”
“Iknow,butit’shard,takingthatstep,whileI’mstilldealingwitheverything.”
Willshakeshishead.“Idon’tthinkthat’sit.IknowIprobablysoundlikeanidiot,unsympathetic,butIthink
youhaveachoiceinthis.Youcanbebrave,Elin,choosenottoletthepasttakeoveryourlife.”
“Achoice?”Hervoiceisshaky.“I’dhardlychoosemylifelikeitisnow…”
“Youdohaveachoice.Lookatmyfather.Themaculardegeneration.He’shadtochangehiswholewayoflifetoaccommodateit,buthe’snevercomplained.”Willlooksather.“Hemadeachoice,Elin.Nottoletitgethimdown,ruinhislife.Youcandothesame.”
“Noteveryonecanbelikeyouandyourfamily,”shesaystightly.“Sobloodystrong.You’relucky,Will,thatyou’reallsoclose.Ithelpstohavethatsupportnetwork,peopletotalktowithoutjudgment.Whenyouhavethatasabase,it’seasiertotakerisks,makedecisions.”
“Iknow.”Hesoundstired.“Butwehavethechancetobuildthesamekindoffamily,ourfamily.Theonlywaywe’llgetthereisifyoubreakdownthosewallsyou’vebuiltbetweenus.Ijustdon’tgethowwiththis,withIsaac,you’regivingityourall,butwithus…”Heshakeshishead.
Elin’sinstinctistocomeback,defendherself,buthe’sright.Shehasputupwallsbetweenthem.Shedoesn’twantto,butshehas.
“It’sjust,Isaac,he—”Shestops.Partofherwantstojusttellhim,tellhimtheonethingthatmightmakehimunderstandwhatshe’sreallydoinghere.Explainthatwhileshe’sdesperatetomoveon,shecan’tuntilsheknowsthetruthaboutwhathappenedtoSamthatday.
Butthewordsarestuck.
It’salwaysthesame—onthevergeoftellinghimbutstoppingshort.Itfeelsasteptoofar,thatshe’snotjustexposingpartofherselfbutapartofherfamily,too—anintimacythatscaresher.
Willlooksather.“Youknow,ifyoukeepallthisup,whenLaure’sbacklater—andI’venodoubtshewillcomeback—Ithinkweshouldtalkaboutwhetherstaying…ifit’sagoodidea.”
“Youwanttoleave?”Elinrepeats,blindsided,panicsurgingthroughher,littleprickingdartsjaggingathernerves.
Wecan’tleave.Notyet.Weleavenow,andthiswholetripwillhavebeenfornothing.I’mnotevenclosetogettinganswers.
“Yes.Idon’twanttokeepseeingyoulikethis.Yourreaction,Idon’tlikeit.You’restressed,Elin.Idon’tthinkit’sgoodforyou,beinghere,aroundhim.
You’re…You’renotbeingyourself.”
Elinwantstoprotest,buthe’sright.She’snotbeingherself.Herthoughtsaren’tcalm;they’reacrobatic,wheelingthoughtsshecan’tmakesenseof.
Will’smouthispoisedtosaysomethingelse,buthethinksbetterofit.Slowly,carefully,helowershimselfbackintothepoolusingtheheelsofhishands.25
AsElinpushesthroughthedoorsintothechangingarea,Will’swordsbeatoutinherhead:You’renotbeingyourself.
Tearsstingingthebackofhereyes,sheslipsherfeetintohershoes,bendsdown,picksupherbag.Asshestraightensup,shepauses.
Asound:adoor,swingingopenandshut.
Elinturns,expectingtoseesomeoneemergefromoneofthecubicles,wethair,swimbaginhand.
Silence.
Noone’sthatquiet,surely?Changingnecessitatesnoise:thescratchyrubofclothingondampskin,thelittlegruntsoffrustrationasbuttonsgettangledinwethair,strapsareturnedinsideout.
Yetthereitisagain—theclickandswingofadoor.
Elinwaits,stillexpectingsomeonetoemerge,butthere’snothing.
Thesilencestretchesout,amplifyingthehammeringofthepulseinherears.Everysenseisheightenedassheturns,scansthespace.
Everything’sstill.Quiet.
Pushingforward,shestartswalkingtowardthedoorleadingbacktoreception.Don’tbestupid,shetellsherself,it’snothing.
Butthat’snottrue.
Sheheardsomething.Sheisn’timaginingit.
Elinwalksslowlydownthelengthofthechangingcubicles.
Theexperienceisastrangeone;shehadn’trealizedhowpeculiarthechangingroomdesignwasbefore,eachdoorseamlesslymeldingintothenext.Theeffectisofaninternalcorridorbisectingthespace.Astark,steriletunnel.
Notonlythat:therearen’tanyhandlesonanyofthedoors.
Howdotheyopen?
Elintentativelypushestheoneclosesttoher.Thepressureofherhanddoessomething;thedoorswingsinwardwithaclick.
Shesurveysthespaceinside.Anarrowbenchrunsalongtheleft-handwallofthecubicle.Ithasaflapateitherend,foldeduptoallowthedoortoopen.Whenlowered,itwouldbothbeabenchofnormalwidthandlockthedoorclosed.
Walkingthelengthofthecubicles,shepushesateachdoor.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Butthere’snoonethere.
Asthelastdoorstartstoswingbackonitself,shestepsinside.
Sheworksthroughit:Couldtheyhavegoneoutanotherway?
Puttingherhandontheoppositedoor,shegentlypresses.
Yes:thecubicleopensoutontotheothersideofthechangingroomsopeoplecangoinandoutfromeitherside.
Agrowingsenseofuneasinessbuildsinsideher.It’spossible:someonehadbeenthere,slippedouttheotherside.
Theydefinitelyhaven’tgonethroughtoreception.
She’sbeenfacingthatwaythewholetime.Buttheycouldhavegonetothepool
Sowherearetheynow?
There’sonlyonewaytocheck.Slippinghershoesoff,shepadsbackouttothepool,scansthespace.
Alurch,deepinhergut.
OnlyWillisthere,strikingoutthroughthewater.Elinstands,frozenforaminute,thenmakesherwaybackthroughthechangingroomtothespareception.
Someonewasthere.Someonewasdefinitelyinthere.
Watching.
Lookingup,Margotsmiles.“He’sstillswimming?”
“Yes.Goingforarecordbythelooksofit.”Elinforcesabreezinessintohervoicethatwasn’ttherebefore.“Didanyoneelsecomeinafterme?”
“No,it’squiet.Ithinkpeoplewentoutearlierbecauseofthebreakintheweather.It’llgetbusyagainsoon,nowthatthesnowhasstartedupagain.”
Elinnods,fingerstighteningaroundthestrapofherbag.
Partofherwantstodismisswhatsheheardasafigmentofherimagination,adifferentsoundaltogether,butanotherpartofherissure:Whoeverwasintherewaswatchingher.
Waiting.26
Needingtoclearherhead,Elinleavesthehotelviathebackentrance,hikestheshortpathuptowardtheforest,theoppositeroutetotheoneshe’dtakenearlierwithWill.
Hermindkeepscirclingoverwhathappenedinthechangingroom.
Isshelettingherimaginationgetthebetterofher?
I’mnotsure.
Butdespitetheconfusion,witheverystep,shefeelsstronger,moreincontrol.
It’salwaystheway:shedoesherbestproblemsolvingwhileexercising—churningthroughunresolvedquestionsaboutcases,thoughtsaboutSam,Isaac,hermother.
Butthesnowishardwork.Underneaththethicklayerofsoftpowderthat’sjustfallen,there’sanolder,morecompactedlayer.
Elinstopsatthetopofthepath,justbeforetheentrancetotheforest,breathingheavily.Snowissettlingonherjacket,caughtinthecreasesofthefabric.
Sheexhalesslowly,herfrostedbreathcloudingtheair.Thesnowhasstoppedbuttheskyisstillleaden,heavy.Shecantellthere’smoretocome.
Eventhoughshe’snolongermoving,herheartispounding,sweatstartingtosoakherthermals.It’sthealtitude—theairisviscous,sticky.Herbodyhasn’tyetacclimatized.
Sheclosesherhandaroundtheinhalerinsideherjacketpocket,herfingersgrazingtheblockyedgeofthemouthpiece.Thecoldairdoesn’thelp.Athomewhenshe
exercises,theairiswarm,moist.Aslongasshetakesherpreventiveinhaler,startsslowly,pacesherself,she’sfine.
Butuphere,theaircooler,thinner,shehastobecareful.
Onherguard.
Shecloseshereyes,takesone,twodeepbreaths,andinthatmoment,offherguard,hermindtrips,catches.
Arapid-fireseriesofsnapshots:
Abreezecuttingthesurfaceoftherockpool,makingabluroftherocksbelow.
Ahandgrabbingherarm.
Blooddispersinglikesmokethroughthewater.
Feartiesitselfintoanuglyknotinherstomach.She’sneverhadthisbefore.
Theintrusionoftheflashbacksintoconsciousness,thismergingintoreallife.Theyusuallycameinthegraytime,whenshe’sdriftingofftosleep,orawakening.
They’venevercrossedthelinebefore.
Disconcerted,shetakesalongbreath,walkshigher.
Snowissmotheringeverything:theground,thetrees,branchesbowingundertheweightofit.
Herbootsarerubbingatthebacksofherheels.
Despitethethicksocks,herfeetareslidingaroundwitheachstep.Theshopassistanthadwarnedherthattheyweretoobig,butshe’dignoredhim.
Elin’sneverlikedanythingtootight.Thelegacyofasthma.
It’sstrange,shethinks,howforher,claustrophobiadoesn’tonlyexistinspacesoutsideherself,butwithinhertoo.
Thathorriblesenseofbeingtrappedinsideyourownbody.
Oneofthefirstthingsshedidwhensheboughtherapartmentwastoknockdownthedividingwallseparatingthetwomainrooms.
Asthelastsectioncamedowninacloudofdustandplaster,sendinglightfloodingthroughthespace,hersenseofreliefwaspalpable.
Elinturns,takinginthelandscapeopposite.Thegrayweightoftheskystretchesoutendlessly,onlybrokenbythejaggedhorizonofmountainpeaks.Clustersofchaletsaredottedacrosstheirflanks,impossiblysmall.
Onthissideofthevalley,thewindingstripoftheroadleadingtothetownonherrightisbarelyvisiblebetweenthesnowdriftsbankeduponeitherside.
Thetownitselfishiddenbyasmallridge.Elincanjustmakeoutthemetalspineofthechairliftinfrastructure,pylonsheadingupwardintothemist.
Onherleftisthehotelbelow.Theweakraysofsunlightpushingthroughabreakinthecloudarereflectingoffthevastexpanseofglass,thesnowpileduphigharoundit.
Thisistheviewshewantedtosee,theperspectiveshe’sneeded,butthemoreshelooks,themoreconfusedshebecomes.
Onequestionkeepsbeatingoutinsideherhead:IfLauredidtakeoffofherownaccord,wherecouldshegofromhere?
Thehotelisisolated,itsownentity.There’snowherenearbythatLaurecouldplausiblybe.Nowhereshecankeepsafe,staywarm.
Shecan’thavegoneup,surely,Elinthinks,glancingtowardtheforest.Isaachadtoldhertherewerenohutsupthere,noshelter.Beyondthetreesthere’sonlyhighmountain,theglacier.Lookingup,shecanseebothareshroudedinathickmist.It’sswirling,tendrilscrawlinglikefingersovertherock.
Thesightmakesherfleshcreep.Sheturnsaway.
There’sadefinitepossibilityLaure’sgonedown,eithertothetownortothevalley,toSierre,butthat’smorethantwelvemilesaway.
Sohow?
Walkingwasalmostimpossibleintheseconditions,andshecan’thavegotataxi;shehadnophone,nopurse,nobag.
Elinknowsthattheonlywayshe’llgetanswersisbyfindingoutwhyLaurefeltshe’dhadtogo.Whatmotiveshehadforleaving.
Personal,professional,therehavetobeclues,she’ssureofit.
Sheneedstoknowmore—findoutwhatmakesLauretick.Pullingoutherphone,shestartsflickingthroughvarioussocialmediaaccounts.Thoughshe’sregisteredonmostofthem,Elin’sneverpostedanything.She’salwaysfelttooself-conscious,foistingherrandomthoughtsontheworld.
MostofLaure’saccountsaresettoprivate,barone:Instagram.
ElinclicksintoLaure’sfeed.She’snotsurewhatshe’llfind,butit’sunlikelytobetherealLaure.Oneofthefirstthingsshelearnedinthepolicewastheextenttowhichpeoplecuratetheirlives:CVs,diaries.Conversationswithfriends.E-mails.
Themosteasilymanipulated?Socialmedia.Theextrovertcolleague,havingamealwithher“squad,”
couldinfactbeeatingalone,readingabook.Theartsyshotoftheprizewinningbook?Discardedafterthefirstpage.
Yetthefactthatitdoesn’ttellyoueverythingisinitselfrevealing.Thecuration,thepersonthey’repretendingtobe,cansayalot:aninsightintosomeone’sdesires,theirinsecurities.
Elinstartsscrolling.Laure’sgridremindsherofWill’s:considered,filteredtolooksubtlyoverexposed.
Landscapes.Architecture.InterspersedareshotsofherwithIsaac,friends.Acocktailbar.Bookclubinatrendyapartment.Mockingposesforthecamera.
SheglancesatLaure’sself-deprecatingcomments.
Tryingnottotrytoohard.
Therearenomundaneday-to-dayshots.No
“motivational”quotes,olderfamilymembersreluctantlyposingforthecamera.Nothingabouttheimagesrevealsasofterside,anyvulnerabilities.Shewantstobeseenasserious,creative,incontrol.
Thisisrevealing:thecompletelackofflaws,ofbeingabletoshowherselfasanythingotherthanlivingaperfectlife,indicatesaninsecurity.Laurewasn’tquiteconfidentenoughthatpeoplewouldliketherealher,soshe’shavingtoposture.
Allinall,someonetryingveryhard.
Butstill,nosignofanyinstability,anythingseriouslyawry.Tofindthat,Elinwillhavetolooksomewherereal.
SomewhereLaurewouldn’tbesoawareof,somewhereherfriendswouldn’tbeabletosee,tojudge.
Heroffice.
AsElinstartstowalkbackdownthepathtowardthehotel,hergazeisonceagaindraggedtotheimmensewhiteexpansestretchingoutbelowher.
Athoughtstrikesher:
WhatifLaurewantedtogetlostinthis?Whatifallthisisplanned?
Shecanalmostunderstandit,shethinks,wantingtostepoutintothisnothingness.
Aperfect,endlessoblivion.
Thenanimageofthebloodspatterontherugappearsinhermind.
Tiny,rustydots.Aconstellation.27
Hercaptorhasmovedheroffthefloor.
Adele’snowlyingflat,onabedofsomekind.
It’sasoftersurface,moreforgiving.
Blinking,sheopenshereyes,buttheshapesandcolorsaroundherareoutoffocus.Ittakesafewminutesforthesceneinfrontofhertoresolve.
Awall:bumpy,striated,thesurfaceslickwithmoisture.
Adeletriestoanalyzethis,workoutwhereshemightbe,butshe’sdistracted:herfaceisburning.Withalurch,sheremembers:themask.Panicbubblesupinsideher,sweatbuildingbetweenherfleshandthethicklayerofrubber.
Frantic,shetriestoreachup,clawitoff,butherhandswon’tmove.
What’shappened?
Adeletipsherheadforwardtotrytogetabetterlook,butthemovementmakesherdizzy,asifherbrainisoncatch-up,threestepsbehindherskull.
Shetriesagain,twistinghertorsototheright,butasherheadfollows,theC-shapeoftubingattachedtothemaskblockshervision;agrotesqueblackcurve
Adeletriescraningherneck,anglingherheadfarenoughtotherightsoshecanseepastthetube.
Itworks:shegetsaglimpseofherrighthand.It’sfastenedatthewristtothebed.Atablesitsafewfeetaway.It’smadeofmetal,similartooneusedforcamping
—foldable,portable.
Inthecenterisasmallmetaltray.Surgicalinstrumentsarelineduponthesurfaceinaneatrow—
scalpels,aknife,afinepairofscissors.
Adele’sheartfalters,trips.
It’sthenshehearsit,thesoundthatcutsrightthroughher:thestrangewetsuckofairbeinginhaled,thehigh-pitchedwhistleoftheexhale.
Thesoundoftheirmask.Differentfromhers,louder.
Despiteherself,shetiltsherheadagain,farther,catchesaglimpseofthem.
Hercaptorisholdingsomething—aphone.Yourphone,shethinks,recognizingthebatteredbluecase.
Theirfingersaremovingrapidlyacrossthescreen.
SeveralbeatspassandthenAdelehearsafamiliarwhooshingsound.Ittakesheramomenttoprocessthesignificance:They’vesentamessage.Amessagefromyourphone.
Afewsecondslater,anothersound.Alowbeep.
Someone’sreplied.
It’sthenithitsher:They’vesentamessagepretendingtobeyou.
Shefeelsherstomachplummet:noonewillknowshe’smissingnow.Whoevergetsthemessagewillassumeshe’sfine.
Noonewilllookforyou.Noonewillknowthatanything’swrong.
Adeletriestoscream,butthesoundbehindthemaskismuted,pathetic.
Thefigureturns,staringatherforafewminutesasifconsideringsomething.
Thencomesthevoice.“Ready?”
Adelay:herearsabsorbingsoundbeforeherbrainregistersit.Adeleflinches,reeling.
Thevoice.Sheknowsthatvoice.
Adele’smouthopens,butnosoundcomesout.Aquakeinsideher:thelastbitofhope,gone.
Therewouldbenogettingoutofthis.
Inaway,she’salwaysknownthismomentwascoming.Whathappenedhasnevergoneaway.She’sforcedittothefurthestreachesofhermind,buttheknowledgehasalwaysbeenthere—likeaclot,sittingbenigninsideyourvein,justwaitingforthemomenttocomeunstuckandwreakhavoc.
Adeleliesperfectlystill,waiting.Allshecanhearishercaptor’sbreathing
Anymoment.Anymoment.
Theflashlightbeamjolts,movesagain.Bendingatthewaist,thepersonfumblesinthesmallblackbagonthefloor.Theyrummageinthebag,withdrawasyringe.
Asharpscratchonherarmbeforeeverythinggoesdark,butnotfastenoughforhertomissthesoundofthesmallmetaltablebeingdraggedacrossthefloortowardher,theclankandjoltofthemetalinstrumentsasitmoves.28
Shestillisn’tback?”Thehotelmanagertenses,thepapersclaspedinherhandcreasingbetweenherfingersunderthepressure.
Elinexaminesthenamebadgepinnedtoherdarkshirt:CECILECARON.GENERALMANAGER.Thewomanshesawinthepoolyesterday;thedeveloper’ssister.
There’sdefinitelyaresemblance:thesamerangyheight,muscularframe,similarsandy-blondhair,althoughCecile’sisshorter,evenshorterthanElin’s.It’scroppedclosearoundherface,revealingsharp,angularcheekbones.
Herfeaturesarestrong,defined.She’sisn’twearinganymakeup,butshedoesn’tneedit.Anyadornmentwouldlooksillysomehow.Superfluous.
Elinshakesherhead.“Isaachasn’theardfromher.Noonehas.”
AshadowcrossesCecile’sface.“Areyousurehe’sspokentoeveryone?”
Elinnods.“Everyone.Friends,family,neighbors.
Theythoughtshewashere,withIsaac.”Shepauses.“Idon’tknowifLaurementionedit,butthiswasmeanttobetheirengagementcelebration.”
“Shetoldme.”Cecileemergesfrombehindthereceptiondesk,papersstillgraspedtightlyinherhand.
“Shealsosaidyou’reapoliceofficerintheUK?”Herexpressionisunreadable.ItimmediatelymakesElinfeeluncomfortable.
“Iam.”Assoonasthewordsareout,Elinflushes.Sheshouldhavecorrectedher:Whynottellthetruth?WhygivemyselfanauthorityIdon’tdeserve?“Isaacismybrother.He’scalledthepolice.They’vemadeanoteofit,
tofollowup,buttheythinkit’stooearlytowarrantinvestigating.IsaidI’daskafewquestionsinthemeantime.”
Givingabrusquenod,Cecilemurmurssomethingtothereceptionist.SheturnsbacktoElin.“Let’sgotomyoffice.It’sbetterifwespeakthere.”
Followingheroutofthelobby,intothemaincorridor,ElinstrugglestokeepupwithCecile’sefficientstride.
Hertrouserspullupslightlyasshewalks,asifthey’recatchingonherlegs,thevisiblemuscleinherthighs.
She’sthefirstmemberofstaffthatElin’sseenwholookssomehowwrongintheuniform;afishoutofwater.
Thepared-backScandinavianstyle—blackshirt,slim-fittaperedtrousers,graypumps,don’tsuitherbody.Herbroadshoulders,solidlimbs,arepullingatthefabric,subtlyalteringthecutoftheclothes.LikeElin,she’sprobablymorecomfortableinworkoutclothes.
Ceciletakesthefirstdoorontheright.Theywalkdownanothershortcorridor.Theofficesareattheend,ontheleft.Pushingatthedoor,sheholdsitopen
“Please,goin.Takeaseat.”
Forthefirsttime,ElinpicksupontheAmericaninflectioninCecile’sEnglish.Eithereducatedthere,orlivedtherelongenoughforittobecomethedefault.
InCecile’soffice,she’sonceagainfacedwithawallofglass,butanyviewofthemountainsisnowobscuredbyabankofthick,blackcloud.Thesnowhasstartedupagain,dizzyinginitsintensity,large,fatflakesplummetingtotheground.
Cecile’sdeskispositionedcentrally,directlyinfrontoftheglass.Likeatarget,Elinobserves,shouldersstiffening.Infullview.
Asshetakesaseat,hergazeroamsaroundtherestofthespace:twocomputerscreenssidebysideonthedesk,apileofpapers,areusablecoffeecup.
Directlyfacingherareseveralphotographs,nestledtogetheronthedesk.
ElinrecognizesayoungerCecilerightaway:claspingatrophy,amedalslungatananglearoundherneck.Intheothershe’sinapool,swimmingcappeeledoff,danglingfromherhand,theotherclenchedinafistpump.
CecilefollowsElin’sgaze.“Iusedtoswimcompetitively.”Ashort,hardlaugh.“Backintheday.”
Sheflushes,embarrassedatbeingcaughtstaring.“Bitofacareerchange.”
“Didn’tquitemakethegrade.”Cecilesmiles.“Youknowhowitis.Thecompetition’sfiercethehigheryougo.”
Adreamunfulfilled,thinksElin,watchingCecile’seyesflickertowardthephotograph,thenaway.Adreamthatmeantenoughforhertokeepaphotographonherdesk,howeverpainfulitistoremember.
Butthen,whodoesn’thavedreamslikethat?Whodoesn’twonder:Whatiflifehadtakenadifferentpath?
Shechangesthesubject.“Soyouhaven’tseenLaure?”
“Notsinceyesterday.Shewashavinglunchinthelounge.”Herforeheadcreasesintoafrown.“Areyousureshehasn’trunganyoneelse?”
“No.”
“Noone’spickedherupfromhere?SomeoneIsaacdoesn’tknow?”
“It’spossible,butitstilldoesn’texplainwhyshehasn’tbeenincontact,whyshedidn’ttakeherthings.
Herphone,bag,purse…they’restillhere.”
“Shedefinitelyhasn’tgonehome?”
“No.Theneighbor’sgotakey,lethimselfin.Noonewasthere.”
“Butit’spossible,surely,thatshe’sgoneofherownaccord,didn’twantpeopletoknow.Hadcoldfeetabouttheengagement?Peoplegetanxiousrightbeforemakingthatfinalcommitment.”Cecileshrugs.“IknowIdid.”
ElinlooksdownatCecile’shand.Noweddingring.
Cecileclockstheglance.“Divorced.”
Catchingthenoteofdefianceinhervoice,Elinimmediatelyempathizeswiththeimplicitpushbackinit.
Peopleasking,havingtoawaittheclichédplatitudesthatfollowed:You’llfindtherightone.Don’tworry,it’snottoolate.
Elin’sonlythirty-two,butbeforeshe’dmetWill,she’dheardthemall.Hityourlatetwentiesandpeoplefelttheneedtoboxyouup,categorizeyou.
Iftheycouldn’t,theysawyouasathreat.Anindefinable.
“Yes,”Elinconcedes,turningtheconversationbacktoLaure.“Peoplegoingoff,ithappensmoreoftenthanyou’dthink.Thefamilystartspanicking,onlytofindoutit’splanned.Sometimespeopledon’tlikehavingtoexplain,sotheybolt.”Sheleansforward.“Soyou’renotawareofanyproblems?Reasonsforhertotakeoff?”
“No.Laure’salwaysbeenanexceptionalemployee.
Punctual.Bright.”Cecilefiddleswithapenonthedesk.
“Look,I’mprobablynotthebestpersontospeakto.Wehadagoodrelationship,butaprofessionalone.Laure…
she’saprivateperson.Shewouldn’tsharepersonalthings.Notunlessitwasnecessary.”
“WouldyoumindifItakealookatherdesk?Seeifshe’sleftsomethinghere.Traveldetails,anythinglikethat.”Elinkeepshervoicedeliberatelylight.
“Why?”SomethingflickersacrossCecile’sfeaturesthatElincan’tdecipher.
“Youcanstay,”Elinadds.“I’mnotinterestedinanythingworkrelated.”
Cecilerelaxes.“Ofcourse.It’sthroughhere.”Shepushesonthesmokedglassoftheright-handwall.Thedooropensoutwardwithasoftclick.
Inside,it’sthesamelayoutasCecile’s,buthalfthesize.Hoveringnearthedoor,Cecile’salreadystaringdownatherphone.
Elinscansthesurfaceofthedesk.It’sneat:laptop,pencilholder,phone,asmallsucculentinalime-greenpot.Theendofaphonechargerdanglesaimlesslyoffthesideofthesurface.It’sinnocuous.Impersonal.Revealingnothing.
Reachingbelowthedesk,shetugsattheright-handdrawer.It’sunlocked,easilyopened.Thereisn’tmuchinside:apresentation,notesfrommeetings,afolder.Sheflicksthrough,thendiscardsthem,pickingupthebluemanilafolder.Severalfoldedpiecesofpaperareinside.
Anarticleprintedfromawebsite.TheheadlineisinFrench:Dépression.Clippedtothetoprightofthepageisabusinesscard.
AMELIEFRANCES
PSYCHOTHERAPIE|PSYCHOLOGIE
24,RUEDELAUSANNE
ElinstealsasidewaysglanceatCecile.She’sonthephone.
Quicklyslippingthecardintoherpocket,sheturnstothedrawerontheleft.
It’semptybutforapurplefolder.Sheopensitandleafsthrough:mobile-phonebillsgoingbackeverymonthforoverayear.They’reinLaure’sname,butaddressedtothehotel.
“Foundsomething?”Cecilelooksup.
“Idon’tknow.”Elinhesitates.“Doyouuseworkmobileshere?”
“No.Anycallsthatareforworktheyexpensefromtheirpersonalmobiles,butwemainlyusethephoneshere.”Shegesturesatthelandlineonthedesk.
Thismustbeherpersonalmobile,surely?Butwhykeepherpersonalmobilestatementshere?ThenElinnoticessomething.Thenetwork:Orange.chWasn’tthemobileIsaacshowedherSwisscom?
ThatmeansLaurehasanotherphone.
Whenshepicksupthemostrecentbill,hereyesleapthepage.Onenumberappearsrepeatedlyonthecalllog.
Textstoo.ItmustbeIsaac’s,shethinks,pullingoutherownphonetocheck.
Itisn’t.Whoevershe’sbeenrepeatedlycalling,itisn’tIsaac.Infact,Elinthinks,lookingdownthelog,Isaac’snumberdoesn’tappearonhereanywhere.Herbodytenses.There’ssomethingaboutthisshedoesn’tlike.
Whykeepthestatementshere?
ButElinknowstheanswer:Shedoesn’twantIsaactoseethem.Hermindimmediatelymakesthenextleap:IsLaureseeingsomeoneelse?HasIsaacfoundout?
Herminddrawsbacktothecallshewitnessedlastnight:Laurecouldhavebeenusingthisphone.Thiscouldbethenumberofthepersonshewasspeakingto,thenumbershe’dbeenunabletofindonLaure’sotherphone.
Elin’smobilevibrates.
AmessagefromWill.
Weatheralloverthenews.They’reevacuatinghotelsontheothersideofthevalley.
“Goteverythingyouneed?”
Dragginghereyesfromthescreen,ElinnoticestheimpatienceonCecile’sface.She’shadenough.Wantstogetbacktowork.
“Yes.”Shegesturestothefoldercontainingthebills.
“IsitokayifItakethese?”
“Ofcourse,andifthere’sanythingelseIcando,pleaseletmeknow.”Hervoiceisearnest,butherexpressioniscuriouslyopaque.Elin’sfindingithardtotellifthewordsaregenuineorsimplyacoolprofessionalism.
“Really,”Cecileadds,asifsensingherthoughts,
“anythingatall.Laure’savaluedmemberoftheteam—”
Shebreaksoff,hereyesfixedonthewindow.
Elinfollowshergazetothecarparkoutside.Oneofthepolice4x4sshesawearlierispullingaway.It’smovingquickly,wheelschurningupsnow.
LookingbacktoCecile,shestops,noticinghertenseexpression.
Elin’sabouttoaskheraboutitbutpullsback.
Don’toverstepthemark.IfsomethinghashappenedtoLaure,sheneedstoapproachthissituation,thepeoplehere,verycarefully.29
Aprintout?”Isaac’svoiceistooloud,strained,butitdoesn’tmatter.Theloungeispacked,hiswordslostamidthehumofconversation,theclinkandclangofcutlery.Musicisplayingonlow:acontemporaryjazztrack,suitablefordaytime.
Noone’sventuringoutinthis,Elinthinks,lookingoutside.Theskyisblack,hugesnowflakesbeingpulledinalldirectionsbythewind.
Shenods.“ItwasinLaure’sdesk.”
“Sothat’swhyyousentWilloff.Soyoucouldconfrontmewithit.”
Elinbristles.“Ihardlysenthim.He’dfinishedlunchandwantedtocheckhise-mails.”
Isaacsetsdownhisforkwithaclatterandpusheshisplateaside.Thechickensaladhasbarelybeentouched,lettuceleaves,slickwithoil,heapeduponthesideofhisplate.
He’samess,Elinthinks,lookingatthestubblegrazinghischeeks,thecrumpledclothes.
“Sowhat’sitabout?”hesaysabruptly.
“Depression.Therewasabusinesscardattachedtoit,forapsychologist.”
Runningafingerovertherimofherglass,hereyeslockonthefireplacebehindhim.Theflamesareleapinghigh,curlingagainsttheglass.
“Apsychologist?”Isaac’seyeswidenbeforehecollectshimself.“Itwould…makesense.”Helooksather,assessing,asiftryingtopregaugeareaction.“Laurehasbeenstrugglingwithdepressionrecently.It’sbeenworse
thepastfewmonths.Hermedication…that’swhatItookfromtheshelf.Iwasn’tcertainyousaw.”
“Idid.”Shemeetshisgaze.“Whydidyouhideit?”
“Ididn’twanttogointosomethingprivate,withoutherpermission.Ithoughtshe’dbebackandIwouldn’thaveto…”Shakinghishead,helooksdowntothefloor.
“Butthat’sallgonetoshit,hasn’tit?”Heclearshisthroat.“I’vecanceledeveryone,youknow.Laure’sfriends.Mine.Eveniftheweatherdoesn’tcomeinasthey’reforecasting,there’snopointinthemcomingnow.”
“You’resure?”
“Notmuchofanengagementpartywithoutthebride-to-be,isit?”
Hearingtheangerflaringinhistone,shechangesthesubject.“Sohowlonghasshebeendepressed?”
“Onandoffforyears,sinceCoraliedied.Itdidn’thelpthatherfatherdidn’tstickaround.WhenLaurehiteighteen,hepissedoffbacktoJapan.”
“Coralie’sdead?”Elinfalters,picturingher,thenarrowface,theslanted,felineeyes.Coraliewasaone-off,ano-bullshitfirebrand,sofullofenergythatit’shardtoimaginethatshe’sgone.
“Ahit-and-runinGeneva.Nearthelake.”
“Lauredidn’tsay.”Whyhadn’tshementionedit,Elinwonders,stung,butdeepdown,sheknows:WhywouldLauretrustherwiththatafterElinhadghostedher?
“She’sgoodatputtingonabraveface,butunderneath,she’sfightingtoholdittogether.Hereespecially.Shecan’taffordtoloseanotherjob.”
“Another?”
“Herlastrole,theymoreorlessaskedhertogo.Theygaveheragoodreference,becauseshewentquietly,butevenso.”
“Whathappened?”
“Thehours,theworkload…itgottoher.Shewasn’tsleepingproperly,keptcallinginsick,startedlashingoutatstaff,guests.”
ElintriestosplicetheinformationtogetherwithwhatsheknowsaboutLaure.It’simpossible,likehe’sspeakingabouttwodifferentpeople.Shestumblesoverwhatshe’sabouttosaynext.“I…Ialsofoundamobile-phonestatement,Isaac.It’snotthephoneyou’vegot.Ithinkshe’sgotanotherone.”
“Wait,what?IthinkI’dknowif…”Isaactrailsoff,heatflaringuphisneck.
“Shedid.It’sinhername.Thebillsweresenttothehotel.”Elinpicksupapieceofbread,putsitdownagain.
Hersoup,thequiveringdropsofoilsuspendedinthesteamingliquid…it’sunappetizing.Toomuch.
“Well,ifshehas,shecan’thaveuseditmuch.”
“There’slotsofcalls,Isaac.Textstoo.There’sanumbersherangrepeatedlythepastfewmonths.ASwissmobile.”
Isaacpasseshistongueoverhisteeth,agitated.“Haveyougotthebills?”
Shenods.Reachingintoherbag,shepasseshimthemostrecentone.Hiseyesscourthepagewithanachingslowness.Hedoesn’trecognizethenumber.
“I’mgoingtoringitnow.”Isaacpullshisphonefromhispocket;hishairfallsacrosshisforehead,sendinghisfaceintoshadow.
“Ringwhat?”
“Laure’sotherphone.Thenumber’satthetopofthepage.”
Ashedials,Elinchewstheedgeofherfingernail,ahorriblesenseoftrepidationsettlingoverher.Hereyesalightonthehugechandelierabovethem.It’sanabstractdesign—madeupofhundredsofsharp-edgedfragmentsofglasssuspendedatvaryingheights.It’seye-catching,butthecomplexity,thelackofsymmetry,istoomuch.
It’stooharshacenterpiece.
Isaacpullsthephonefromhisear.“It’sgoingstraighttovoicemail.Anautomatedvoice.”Hepicksupthebillagain,graspingitsotightlythepaperpuckers.“I’lltrythenumbershekeptcalling.”
It’safewsecondsbeforesomeonepicksup.“Hello?”Ahesitation.“Hello?”Isaacrepeats.“Areyouthere?”
Slowly,hedragsthephonefromhisear,putsitonthetable.AllElincanseeistheconfusioninhiseyes.Notanger.Aquietdevastation.
Laure’sliedtohimandhehadnoidea.
Touched,Elinlooksdownatherhands.Hewon’twantherpity.Neverhas.
“Theypickedup,thenhungupafterIspoke.”
“Tryagain.”
Butthistime,almostassoonhebringsthephonetohisear,heputsitbackdown.“Thistimeit’snotevenringing.”
“Theymust’veswitcheditoff.Isaac,itdoesn’tmatter.
Ifsomethinghashappened,wecangetthepolicetogofurtherback.Onherotheronetoo.Thephoneprovidercanproducealistofanynumbersdialedorreceivedinthepastsixmonths.”
Isaacdrumshisfingersonthetable,silent.She’snotsureifhe’sevenheardher.
Awaitress,abrunette,runsaclothoverthetablenexttothem.Whenshefinisheswiping,sheturns,smiles.
“Wouldyoulikeanythingelse?”
Elinisabouttoreply,butIsaacgetstherebeforeher.
“No,”hesaystightly.“Thefood’scrapanyway.”
“Isaac…”Shesmilesapologeticallyatthewaitress.
“What?I’msayingithowitis.”
Thewaitressstraightens,flushes.“Sir,Icangetyousomethingdifferentifyou’dprefer,andIcan,ofcourse,passonanyfeedbacktotheteam.”
“No,it’sfine.”ElinshootsIsaacawarninglook.
“Really,we’refine.”
Asthewaitressmovesaway,Elinfrowns.“Whydoyoualwayshavetodothat?Lashout?It’snotherfaultLaure’smissing.”
It’salwaysbeenhisdefault:takingthingsoutonotherpeople.Sheremembersthetimehelostatoytheirfatherboughthimforacinghisexamsatschool,aleggymetalrobotthatspokewhenyoupresseditsantennae:Iamatyourcommandbuttreatmewithcaution!Samborethebruntofhisanger—roomtornapart,hisPlaymobilpirateabductedinretaliation.
SamstuckclosetoElinforweeksafterward.Theybecameeachother’shumanshield:everytimeIsaacgotangry,they’dseekeachotheroutforprotection.
Theawkwardsilencecontinues;Isaacrubsthebackofhisneck.“You’reright,”hesaysfinally,“butIdon’tlikethis.Itfeels…wrong.Ifshe’snotbacktonight,I’mcallingthepoliceagain.”
“Shemightbebackbythen,”Elinreplieswithoutconviction.“Allthis…itcouldbefornothing.”
“Youmightchangeyourmindafterseeingthese.”
Delvingintohisbag,hewithdrawsapileofphotographs,dropsitonthetable.“Lookatthese,thentellmeit’snothing.”
Elinslidesthepiletowardher.Herbreathingquickens:thephotographsarealldifferent,butthey’reofthesameperson.
LucasCaron.“Wheredidyougetthese?”Acoldbeadoffearmovesthroughher.Thisdoesn’tlookright.Theydon’tlooklikenormalphotographs.
Isaaclooksatherintently,hisfacepale,bloodless.Hisfootistappingthefloor.“IfoundthemhiddeninLaure’sskibag.Lookatthem.”
Lucaswalkingtowardthehotel,beaniepulleddownoverhishead,lookingdownathisphone.Lucastalking
toamemberofstaffattheentrancetothelounge.Lucassittingontheterracewithagroup,sippingwine.
Itlookslikesurveillance.LikeLaure’sbeenfollowinghim.Stakinghimout.
“It’sweird,isn’tit?”Isaacdemands.Hisfootismovingfasternow,hiskneehittingthetabletop.“Tellmeyoudon’tthinkit’sweird.They’renotholidaysnaps,arethey?Itdoesn’tlooklikeheknowsthey’rebeingtaken.”
“Wedon’tknowenoughtoformanyfirmconclusions.
Theremightbeanexplanation.”Elintriestokeephervoiceonanevenkeel,butit’shard.Sheknowsherwordssoundlame.
Whatexplanationcouldtherebe?WhywouldLaurehavethese?
“Likewhat?”Isaac’seyesarehard,shiny.Hescratchesfuriouslyathiseyelid.
Elinpullshishandaway,herpalmonhis.Thegesture’sautomatic,instinctive.Hishandflattens,relaxingbeneathhers.
Timefoldsbackonitself.She’sachildagain,Isaachelpingherbacktosleepafteranightmare.Theysharedaroomforyearsbecauseofit.Heusedtostretchacross,holdherhandinhis.HedidthesameforSamwhenhewasatoddler.
Forawhile,Samhadevenworsenightmaresthanshedid,anditwasherfault.Theyhadaphaseofplayingdress-up.Samwouldbeasoldier,aknight,andsometimes,ifElinpersuadedhim,asheep,inahomemadewhitewoollycostume—hercreativeinterpretationoftheNativity.
ButthenSamstartedhavingbaddreamsaboutthecostumes—imaginedthemcomingtolifeattheendofhisbed,dancingheadlessaroundtheroom.Elinremembershermother’stactfulremovalofthecostumes,themurmuredwordsabout“notplayingthisgameforawhile.”
Sam.
Thethoughtpullsherupsharply.Elinwithdrawsherhandwithahorriblesenseofdisquiet.She’srushinginagain,isn’tshe?Takingthisatfacevalue.
Everythinghe’sshownher,everythinghe’ssaid—it’sjustwords,nothingmore.Reachingforherwaterglass,Elinblinks,angryatherself.Despiteeverything,she’sletdownherguard.Sheshouldknowbetter.
She’sforgottenhoweasyitistolosetrackofsomeone;thesumoftheirparts30
Thefatiguedoesn’thituntilshe’sbackintheroom.
Elinrubsathereyes.Shecanfeelthebeginningsofaheadache;adull,persistentthrobatthebaseofherneck.
Shepicksupthewaterbottle,opensit.Itfizzes,arapidhiss,bubbleschasingupthroughtheneck.Pouringherselfaglass,shetakesalongswig.Sheneedstorest,butshecan’ttakehermindoffwhatIsaacshowedher.
Whatdoesitmean?
Loweringherselfontotheleatherchairbythewindow,Elinpicksupherphone,typesLucasCaron’snameintoGoogle.Butbeforeshecanchecktheresults,sheseesane-mailfromAnna,herDCI.
Elin,justcheckinginasyoudidn’treplytomylaste-mail.Don’twanttohassleyou,butwedoneedadecisionbytheendofthemonth.Callmeifyouneedtotalk.
Hereyeschasethewordsaroundthescreenseveraltimesbeforesheminimizesthee-mail,goesbacktoSafari,toLucasCaron.
Aslewofarticleshasappearedinthesearchresults:aWikibiography,numerousarticlesinthebusinessandhospitalitypress.Elinscrollstothenextpage.Morearticles.Amongthesearesportsresults,listinghistimesinmarathons,cross-countryskiraces.
Clearlyasenthusiasticaboutsportashewasabouthiscareer,Elinthinks,which,lookingattheheadlines,ismostdefinitelysoaring:
BehindtheBrand:OverthePastDecade,LucasCaronHasEmergedastheMantoWatchWhenItComestoSwissHospitality
TheBeginningsofanEmpire:HowLucasCaron’sReinventionofMinimalismIsTransformingtheLuxuryHotelLandscapeTheHippieHotelier:HowDailyYogaHelpsLucasCaronStayonTopofHisGameMorerecently:
LeSommet:SayingGood-byetoChaletStyle.AStudyinNewMinimalism
TheBeginningsofanEmpire.WhyLucasCaronLikestoLooktothePastforInspiration
Elinclicksonthesecondarticle.Aphotographdominatesthescreen:Lucassittingcross-leggedononeofthesofasinLeSommet’slounge.There’snohintofdiscomfort—hissmileiswide,natural.
Buteveninthis,amoreformalshot,helooksmorelikesomeoneyou’dseeonthecoverofaclimbingorhikingmagazinethanapropertydeveloper.He’sdressedinapairoffadedjeans,agrayzip-uptechnicaltopthatemphasizeshismuscularframe.Hisdark-blondhairisfallingmessilyabouthisface,hisbeardbarelytrimmed.
Elin’sfootjigsbeneathher.Itdoesn’taddup,doesit?
Thelaid-backvibedoesn’tjibewiththehotel,itsdesign.
Scanningthetextbelow,hereyesleaptoseveralquotes:I’vealwayschosentoworkwithbuildingsthathaveahistory,buildingsthataskmetocontinuetellingtheirstory.ThefactthatLeSommet’sstorystartedwithmygreat-grandfather’svisionforasanatoriummakesthisdevelopmentspecialtome.It’salwaysbeenmydreamtoreinventthebuilding;asachild,Iusedtolookatthestructure,imagineitbornagain,somethingnew.
Thearticlecontinues:
Lucasstartedmakingbuildingsattheageofninefromanythinghecouldfind.“Lego,sticks,thefoodtheybroughttomeinthehospital.
Infact,Ithinkthathospitalwaswheremyloveofbuildings,architecture,began.IvowedthatwhenIwasbetterI’dbuildsomethingofmyown,somethingimportant.Squeezethelifefromeveryday.”
Hospital?Shescanstherestofthearticle,findsaparagraphofexplanation:
LucaswasbornwithacongenitalheartconditioncalledASD(atrialseptaldefect),aholeintheheart.Itwastreatedsuccessfullyviasurgicalclosure,buttheoperationandvariouscomplicationsmeanthehadseverallonghospitalstaysasachild.
He’sstartingtomakesensetoElinnow:LucasCaronissomeonewithsomethingtoprove,mentally,physically.He’salsosomeonewhowantstobreakthemold.Onephraseinparticularreflectsthat:squeezethelifefromeveryday.
ShecanseewhyLauremightbeintrigued—themixofbusinessmanandbohemian—butitstilldoesn’texplainthephotographs,whyshetookthem.
Goingbacktothesearch,shecastshereyesdowntherestoftheresults.Atthebottomofthepageshenoticesablogstory.It’sinEnglish,thetitleprovocative:“HowSwitzerland’sPropertyDevelopersAreRuiningTheirOwnTowns”
Elinclicksonit.Thecontentreflectsthetitle—
commentaryonvariouspropertydevelopers,includingLucas.Thecommentssectionatthebottomcatcheshereye:vitriolicremarksaboutLucasCaronandLeSommet,insultsabouttheproposeddesign,hispersonality.
There’stalkaboutDanielLemaitre’sdisappearance,hispersonalandprofessionalrelationshipwithLucas.
Gossipmainly;accusationsofnepotism,rumorsthatLucaswasabouttopullhimfromtheproject.
Stillintrigued,shetypesLucas’snameintoTwitter.
Shefrowns:hisnameappearsinhundredsoftweets,themajorityofthemnegative.
Shehearstheclickofthedoor.Will.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Hewalkstowardher,putshisphonedownontheside.
“ReadinganarticleaboutLucasCaron.IsaacjustshowedmesomephotosLaurehadofhim.”
“And?”
“Itlookslikehedidn’tknowthephotoswerebeingtaken.”
“Elin,thisisn’tanyofyourbusiness.Ithinkifsheisn’tbackbytonight,youshouldletIsaaccallthepoliceagain.
Leaveittothem.”
There’sanoddnoteinhisvoice:acoolkindofresignation.Notonlythat,hiseyes…they’reempty,shethinks,panicking.Hollow.He’spullingawayandit’sherfault.Theworstthingis,sheknowsshecanfixit,tellhimwhathewantstohear—thatshe’sreadytotakethestepsshe’smeanttotake—butitwouldbealie.
I’mnotready.
HerlifeisonholduntilshegetsanswersaboutwhathappenedtoSam.Somethinginsideher,someimportantpart,isstuck.Snaggedonthedayhedied,likeastitchofajumpercaughtonabranch,foreverpullingherbackward.
Reachingintothewardrobe,Willpullsasweateroverhishead.“Youknow,whenIwasgettingchanged,Iwasthinking,whatIsaidbefore…Please,Elin.Iwanttogo.”
“But—”
“Assoonaswecan,”Willinterrupts.“Andthere’sthis.”Heholdsouthisphone.“Idon’twanttobestuckhereanylongerthanwehaveto.Amassivestormiscomingin.”
Elinscansthescreen.
UnprecedentedstormclosinginontheAlps.TheItalianresortofCerviniahasclosedallliftsafterhighwindsforcecablecarstoswingoutofcontrol.Morethan6feetofsnowisforecastinthenext48
hours.
“Ican’tleave,Will.Notnow.”
“Can’t?Orwon’t?”Willsitsonthebed.Helooksather,eyesnarrowed,disbelieving.“Elin,Idon’tthinkyou’relisteningtowhatI’msaying.”
Panicspoolsthroughher.Shehastotellhim,doesn’tshe?Tellhimwhatshereallycameherefor,orshe’satriskoflosinghim.“Ican’t.Mebeinghere,it’snotjustaboutreconnectingwithIsaac.It’saboutgettingthetruth.”
“Truth?What’sthisallabout?”
“It’saboutIsaac.”Hervoicewavers.“IthinkhekilledSam.That’swhyI’mworriedaboutLaure.Iknowwhathe’scapableof.”31
Killed?”Willrepeats,hiseyeslockedonhers.“Yousaiditwasanaccident.”
Elinsitsdownonthebedbesidehim,hermouthdry.“Thatwastheofficialverdict.Theirassumptionwasthathefellintothepool,hithisheadonarock,drowned.ItfitwithwhatIremembered,butthen,afewmonthslater,Istartedgettingtheseflashbacks.”
“Ofwhathappened?”
“No,that’sthepoint.ItoldmyparentsandthepolicewhatIthoughtIhadremembered.”Thosememoriesarestillclear,paredbacktothemostimportantimages.Foryears,shehasminedtheseimagesforaccuracy,turningthemthiswayorthattoprobethemfortruth,butthebonesofthemarealwaysthere.“Butthosememories—
they’redifferentfromwhatIseeintheseflashbacks.”
“Sowhathadyoutoldthepolice?”
Elincloseshereyes.“Wewererockpooling,thethreeofus.”Shecanpictureitsoclearly:thefierceJunesun,angledhigh,throbbingagainsttheirskin.Sam’sred,peelingneck,Isaac’sgrayT-shirt,splatteredwithsaltwaterstains.“Wehadthiscompetition,whocouldcatchthemostcrabs.Achart,pinnedtothebeach-hutwall.”Shescuffsherfeettogether.“Theboystookitsoseriously.Everythingwasacompetitionbetweenthem.”
“Iwaslikethatwithmybrothertoo.”
“Butthis…itwasodd.Theintensity.Takingpleasureineachother’sfailures.Itnevermadesense…itwasn’tevenliketheyweresimilar.SamwastheoppositeofIsaac.Anopenbook.Mumalwayssaidhewaslikeher,theeasychild.”Heevenlookedlikeher,shethinks—pale
skin,blondhairsofinethatifitgotwetyoucouldseethebone-whiteofhisscalpbeneath.
“Soyouweren’teasy,then?”Willraisesaneyebrow.
“No,notlikeSam.Everyonesaystheyoungestisthehappiest,andit’strue.Hewasalwaystheonewhomadeuslaugh,smoothedthingsoverwhenweargued.
Lookingbacknow,IthinkhehadthebestbitsofmeandIsaaccombined.Highenergylikeme,butwithIsaac’slaserfocus.Hecouldsitdown,concentrateinawayInevercould—Lego,homework,reading.Nothingseemedtofazehim…exceptIsaac.HeknewhowtopushSam’sbuttons.”
“Hediditalot?”
“Yes.HewasdifferenttomeandSam.There’sawildstreakthere.Mumwasusuallyunflappable,butIsaacmadehernervoussometimes.”Elinpinchesthebedspreadbetweenherfingers.“Ifeltittoo.Hewasunpredictable.Ithinkpartofitwasbecausehewasextraordinarilyclever.Helikedtotoywithpeople,withsituations,understandwhytheyreactedliketheydid.”
“Thatsoundsquitecold.”
“Yes,hecouldbe.Sometimeshedidn’tseemtohavethesameresponsetothingsthatotherpeoplehad.Asthoughapartofhimhadworkedoutthatemotionsdidn’tgetyouanywhereinthelongrun,soheputhimselfabovethem.”
Willlooksather.“OrperhapshesensedthatSamwasyourmother’sfavorite?Perhapsheclosedoff.Self-preservation.”
“ButIneversaidthat.”Hervoiceissharp,surprisingherself.“IneversaidSamwasherfavorite.”
“Buthowyousaidit,itsoundedlike…”Willshrugs.
“Forgetit.Whathappenednext?”
“IsaacwasangrybecauseSamwaswinning.I’dhadenough,leftthemtoit,wentovertoanotherrockpool.
I’donlybeengoneafewminuteswhenIheardshouting.
Iturned,sawSam’sbucketknockedover.”Elinblinks.
“Hiscrabswereslippingbackintothewater.Samwasscreaming,batteringIsaacwithhisfists.Itwasgettingoutofhand,soIwentover,toldthemtostop.”
“Thepeacemaker.”
Elinnods.“Theymadeup.Isaacapologized.
Everythingseemedfine,soIwanderedfarther,towardthecliff.Ithoughtthey’dsorteditout.”Shefalters,evennow,thememoryknifesharpinherhead.“Idon’tknowhowlongitwasexactly,maybefifteenminutes,twenty.IcouldhearIsaac.Hewasscreaming.Iranback.”
Shecanfeelitnow;panictriggeringinsideher,likeasiren.“IfoundIsaacintherockpool.Uptohisshoulders.Beside—”Thewordscatchinherthroat.
“BesideSam.Hehadhimunderthearms,tryingtodraghimout,buthecouldn’tgethisfooting.Hekeptshouting,‘Wecanhelphim,wecanhelphim,’butIknewhewasdead.Hiscolor…”Hervoicesplinters.“Wetried,keptgoinguntiltheparamedicsgotthere,buthewasgone.”
Willtakesherhandinhis,squeezes.“SowherewasIsaacwhenithappened?”
“Hesaidhe’dgonetotheloo.WhenhecamebackhefoundSaminthewater.Heassumedhe’dslipped,hithisheadonarock.”
“Withoutanyonenoticing?”
“Therockpoolswereisolated,attheendofthebeach.
Unlesssomeonehappenedtobethere,theywouldn’thaveseen.”
Will’sforeheadiscreasedinconcentration.“SowhydoyouthinkIsaacwasresponsible?”Herunshisthumboverthebackofherhand.
“Afewmonthsafter,Istartedgettingtheseflashbacks.TheonlywayIcandescribeitislikewhenyou’redreaming.Atthatonemoment,it’sclear,butthenonceyou’reproperlyawake,youcan’tholdontoit.Asnapshot,theoutlineofsomethingIhaven’tyetfilledin.
Mostofitgoesuntilthenextone.”
Thepsychotherapistshesawlastyeartoldherthatthisisn’tunusual,thatit’sherconsciousmind’swayofprotectingitself.Protectingher.
“Canyourecallanythingfromtheflashbacksclearly?”
“Onlyonething.OneimageIcan’tgetoutofmyhead.
Isaac’sbythecliff.Hishands…”Thewordsarestickyinherthroat.“They’recoveredinblood.”
“Butsurelythat’simpossible.Youfoundhiminthepool,tryingtopullSamout.Wastherebloodonhimthen?”
“No.That’swhatIcan’tworkout.”
“Haveyoutalkedtoanyoneaboutthis?”Willreachesbehindhim,grabsthebottleofwaterfromthetable.
“Whatyouremember?”
“Apartfromthepsychotherapist,no.Mum,Dad…
they’dlostSam.This…itwouldhavebeenlikelosingIsaactoo.Icouldn’tdoittothem.”
“Andyouhaven’tsaidanythingtoIsaac?”
“No.Iknowwhatwouldhappen.He’dgoonthedefensive,thinkIwasaccusinghimofhurtingSam.”
“Well,youare,aren’tyou?”Willopensthewater,slugssomeback.Hisgazeisfixedonher.Intent,unblinking.
Shebalksatthat.“But…”
“Elin,comeon.That’swhatyou’reimplying.”
She’ssilent.Itis,sowhyisitsohardtoadmitittosomeoneelse?
“TheonethingIdon’tunderstandiswhyyoudidn’ttellmeaboutthis.”Heforcesasmilebutthehurtinhiseyesisobvious.“It’sprettybig,keepingitfromme.”
Elinbitesdownonherlip.“Behonest,wouldyouhavewantedtogetinvolvedifyouknew?IfI’dsaidonourfirstdate,Will,Ithinkmyolderbrothermighthavekilledmylittlebrother,andImighthaveseenit,butmy
brainhassomehowrepressedthememory.That’sprettyheavystuff”
“Youshouldhavetoldme.Iwouldn’thavejudged.”
“Icouldn’ttaketherisk.Ilikedyou,Will.Fromtheminutewemet,Isawafuturewithyou.”Hervoicecracks.Hehastounderstand,knowshehasn’tdeceivedhimdeliberately.“Youhaven’tgotanythinglikethisgoingon.You’renormal,haveanormalfamily.”Shesmiles,attemptstolightenthemood.“Yoursistercanbeabitofacow,butapartfromthat…”
Willreturnshersmile.“Butwhyareyousoconvincedthatyou’regoingtogetthetruthifyouconfronthimnow?”
“NowMum’sgone,it’stherighttime.Itcan’tgoonforever.”
“Areyougoingtotellhimwhatyouremember?”
“Idon’tknow.Idon’treallyhaveaplan.IthoughtifweweretalkingaboutSam,Mum,hemightletsomethingslip.”
Willrubshisknuckle.“Youknow,ifyou’reright,iftheseflashbacksstemfromanactualmemory,thenLauregoingmissing—”
Elinnods.Neitherofthemneedstosayitoutloud.
“That’swhyIcan’tleavenow.”ShepicturesLaureyesterday,theempatheticwordsabouthermother.Withitcomesanotherpangofguilt.IoweLaurethis.
Turningawayfromthelaptopscreen,shepressesatherforehead.
“Issomethingwrong?”Willlooksatherclosely,hisexpressionworried.
“Justtired.IthinkI’mgettingaheadache.”
Herummagesinhisbag,thentossesasmallpackettowardher.Ibuprofen.“Takethese,andthenwe’regoingtothespa.Dinner’snotforanhour.”
Elinacquiesces,compliant.Anythingtoloosentheknotsinsideherhead.
Shecanfeelthem,thethoughts,theunansweredquestions,likerocks,weighingheavyinherhead.32
Els,comeon.”
“Just…givemeaminute.”Elinshiftsfromfoottofoot.Thedeckingisfreezing,thewoodenslatscoatedinafinelayerofsnow.Thewindgusts,flatteningthethinfabricofherswimsuitagainstherbody.Sheshivers.
Snowishammeringfromthesky,driftsbuildingaroundthetwooutdoorpools,theassortmentofchairsandloungers.Rollsofvaporbarreloffthelargestpool,closesttoher,meldingwiththesnowtocreateawarm,wetfog.Onlysmallsquaresofthewateritselfarevisible,islandsofashadowy,shimmeringcerulean.
Willtakesherhand,tugsherpastthemainpool.
“You’vedoneitbefore.It’sonlyahottub,it’snotdeep.”
Hisskinispuckeredwithgoosebumps.
Heslipsbehindanenclosureofslattedwoodenpanels.Elinfollows,staringatthecircleofblondwood.
Willclimbsupthensubmergeshisbodybeneaththewater.Helooksather,hisexpressionchallenging.
“Coming?”Withouthisglasses,hiseyesaredarker.
Elinstares.Evenmoresteamisbeingthrownoffthesurfaceofthewater,makingthedarknessshiftandsway.
Imagescome,unwanted:Ashadowyface.Water,batteringthesidesofthecaves.Thesharpjagofpanicinherchest.
Blinking,sheblocksitout,clambersupthestepstothetub.AssheslidesherbodyintothewaternexttoWill,she’sconsciousofthesharpangleofherhipsbuttingupagainsthim,buthedoesn’tseemtonotice.Hesnakesanarmaroundherwaist,lightlysqueezes.
“Okay?”
Shenods.Thewaterissohotit’salmostpainful,butshecanalreadyfeelthewarmthtuggingatthetensioninherlimbs,pullingitloose.
Will’sright.Sheshouldrelax.Unwind.“ThisiswhatIneeded,”shesays,leaningintohim.
“Toldyou.”Hepressesabuttonbehindher.There’salowrumbling,thenthewaterstartstopulse,ripple.
Withinseconds,it’schurning,coiling,pummelingherbackandthighs.“You’vegottolearntorelax.Everyoneneedsdowntime.”
Elinstudieshisface.Hisdarkeyesarewarmashelooksather,histannedskindottedwithtinywaterdroplets.I’mlucky,shethinks,hecares,andisn’tscaredtoshowmethathedoes.Ishouldn’ttakeitforgranted.
“Wanttogetcloser?”Willdoeshisusualcomedyleer,drawinghishandupherthigh.Tippinghisfacedowntohers,hekissesher.Hismouthiswarm,soft,butshebreaksaway,asoundcatchingherattention.
It’shardtomakeoutwhatitisabovethewind,thewater.Athud?Footsteps?
Withasuddensenseofdisquiet,sheturns,looksaround.Onceagain,thedarknessseemstoshift,mutate;aquiet,watchfuldarkness.
Anuneasyfeelingcreepsoverher.Justlikeinthechangingroomearlier,shehasthehorriblesensationthatshe’sbeingobserved.
Shebrieflylookstheotherway.Thewoodenpanelingstaresbackather:blank,featureless,dustedinsnow.
There’snoonethere.
“Didyouhearthat?”ElinturnsbacktoWill.“Itsoundedlikesomeonewasbehindus.”
“No.”
Detectingatightnessinhistone,shedoesn’tsayanythingelse.Theysitinuncomfortablesilence,bubblesbeatingagainstherbody.
TensionisnowemanatingfromWill,hisbodyrigidagainsthers.
Shereprimandsherself.She’sruinedit,hasn’tshe?
Again.Thiswasmeanttobefun,relaxing,andshe’salreadymadeitintosomethingawkward.She’salwayshadthisability.Tospoilthings.
Hermothersaiditwasafearoflettinggo,losingcontrolofemotionsshewasn’tcomfortableexpressing.
“Youdiditonpeople’sbirthdays.Idon’tthinkyoueversetouttoruinthem,butsomethingalwayswentwrong.
You’dfalloverorspilladrink.Once,onIsaac’sbirthday,youatetoomuchcake.Sickalldownyourdress.”
Afterafewminutes,Willstandsup,tinybubblesstucktohisskin.“Look,youwereright,”hesaysstiffly.“Thisprobablywasn’tagoodidea.”Hedoesn’tmeethereyes.
“I’mgoingtotrytheotherpool.Doyouwantmetowalkyoubackfirst?”
“No,it’sfine.I’llmeetyouintheroom.”Hervoiceissmall.Shedoesn’tlikethis:theunusualcoolnessinhisspeech,histone.
Willclimbsout.Elinfollows,headingtowardtheindoorpool.Withinseconds,she’sshiveringagain,thesharpwindpeelingoffanyresidualheatfromthewater.
Afewyardson,shehesitates.She’scometoajunction.Thedeckingleadsintwodirections:straightaheadbacktothespa,thewaysheandWillcame,orleft,towardasmallsquareofwater.
It’stheonlysectionofwaterthatisn’tsteaming,Elinthinks,curious.Instead,thesurfaceisreflectingthelightsoverhead—ablack,frostedglimmer.
Ice.
Walkingtowardit,shestops,justafewstepsfromtheedge.It’sonlyaboutafewyardswide,anarrowladderrunninguptheside.
Aplungepool.
Shehasn’tseenoneoftheseforyears.ThelasttimewasonaweekendtriptoCornwallwithLaureandher
mother;ashabbyseafronthotelnearNewquay.Thatonewasevensmaller,likeawell.They’ddaredthemselves,sheandLaure.I’lldoitifyouwill.
Elinstaresintothewater,aknotoffearopeningupinsideher,theverysamefearasbackthen:thenarrowdimensions,thatyou’dscrapeskinonthewayinunlessyourarmsweretuckedintight.
There’sonebigdifference,though:backthen,she’ddoneit.DoneitbecauseLauredaredher.Becauseshewantedtoprovetoherselfthatshecould.
ButthatwasbeforeSam.Beforeeverythingchanged.
She’sabouttowalkaway,whenshefeelsapresencebehindher.Will
“I’velooked,butI’mwimpingout.Youcandoitforme—”
There’snoresponse.Nolaugh.Nohandonherarm.
Instead,shecanhearbreathing,thesoftthudoffeetonthedecking.Elinfreezes.
It’snotWill,sherealizeswithasickeninglurch.Sheturns,butallatonce,there’sapressureonherback,asudden,juttingforcejustabovethebaseofherspine.
Elin’sheartstutters.
Shejerksforward,toesclamping,contracting,tryingtogetpurchase,butthedeckingisslipperywithcompactedsnowandice.
Haulingherweightbackward,shetriestograbholdofsomething,anything,butthere’snothingthere.Instead,herarmswheeluselesslyintheair.
It’soverinseconds.Elinplummetsforward,thethinlayeroficeonthesurfacegivingwaywithacrack.33
There’snotimetoscream;she’sswallowedbythefreezingwater,lungsballingintotwotightfists.
Herearsburn,mouthandeyesfillwithwater.
She’ssinking.
Lower,lower.
Elinforcesherselftoopenhereyes,butthewaterisblack,impenetrable.Herlungsareseizing,red-hotwithshock.
Startmoving.Dosomething.
Shestartscyclingherfeet,pedalingagainstthewater.
Almostinstantly,thedownwardmovementreverses;shestartsmovingup.
Whenherheadfinallypuncturesthesurface,she’sgaspingforbreath.
Asshescramblestotheladder,Elinclampsherhandaroundthefreezingmetal,haulingherselfontotheclosestrung.Herfeetarenumb,slidingwitheachstep
There’snotimetolookup,seeifwhoeverhadpushedherisstillthere,whattheymightdonext.Herinstinctshavekickedin:Ihavetogetout.
Therefrainisfamiliar:thewordsshesaidoverandoverayearagoasshefoughttogetoutofthecaveafterHaylergrabbedher,hither,asshemadethedecisiontoescapetherisingtide.
Ihavetogetout.Ihavetogetout.
Whenshereachesthetop,sheruns,onautopilot,towardthemainpool“Will,”sheshouts,stoppingonthewalkwaybesidethepool.
Shecan’tseeathing.Thewaterisbarelyvisible,hotvaporgustingacrossthesurfaceinraggedclouds.“Will,areyouthere?”
Inonegust,thewindclearsthesteam.Ayoungcoupleisstandingattheendofthepool,lookingupather,butshebarelyregistersthem.
Shecanseehim:skirtingthetopofthestepsleadingoutofthepool,stridingtowardher.
“What’swrong?”
“Someonepushedmeintotheplungepool.”Hervoicesoundsdetached.Odd.“Ithoughtitwasyou,then”—thewordscatchinherthroat—“someonepushedmein.”
Willfrowns,rocksbackonhisheels.“Areyousure?
Thedecking’sslippery,fromthesnow.Youmighthavecaughtyourfoot.”
Elinblinks,hiswordsbouncingoffher,eachoneabetrayal.Isheactuallydoingthis?Questioningme?
Questioningwhathappened?
“No,”shesaysstiffly,tearshotatthebackofhereyes.
“Someonedeliberatelypushedmein,triedtoscareme.”
Andithadworked.Inthatwater,everyfearshe’sneverbeenabletolabeltookover:afearofbeingsubmerged,slippingbelowthesurfacetosomewhereunreachable.Alone.
AlonelikeSamisnow.
That’swhatthisallcomesbackto,doesn’tit?AlwaysSam.
Will’swatchingher,mouthpoisedtosaysomething,butinsteadhetakesherhand.Severalbeatslater,thewordsfinallycome,butthey’redifferent,shecantell.
They’reneutralwords,sharpedgessandedoffinsidehishead.“Let’snotjumptoconclusions.Weneedtogetyouinside.You’reshivering.”
Theydon’tlingerinthechangingrooms.Elinhurriedlypullsondryclothes,meetsWillinreceptionshortlyafter.
Backintheroom,Willbundlesherintobed,pilingthrowsontopoftheduvet.Elinliesbackagainstthepillow,butthesuddeninactivity,theabsolutestillness,onlyemphasizestheerratichammeringinherchest.
Hepassesherasteamingcupofcoffee,sitsonthebedbesideher.“Decaf.Ididn’tthinkyouneededanyextrastimulationbeforedinner.Howareyoufeelingnow?”
“Better.”Elinsipsthecoffee.It’stoohot,butshelikesthedistraction.“Itwastheshock…Iknowitsoundsstupid,butIhonestlythoughtIwasn’tgoingtocomebackup.”Hervoicecracks.“Partofmethought,thesamethingthathappenedlastyear…”
Willputshishandoverhers,squeezes.
“It’snotonlythat.”Elinpinchesthethrowbetweenherfingers.“Earlier,whenyouwereswimming,someonewaswatchingmeinthechangingroom.Iheardadoorbeingopenedandclosed,butnoonecameout.”
Hestiffens.“Watchingyou?Youthinkit’sthesameperson?”
“Maybe.”
Ashadowpassesacrosshisface.He’sthinkingit,too,isn’the?Afterwhatshetoldhim.
Isaac.
Willclearshisthroat.“Elin,Ireallythinkweshouldleave.IunderstandaboutSam,whyyou’rehere,butafterwhatjusthappenedinthespa,it’stoomuchofarisk.
Youcan’tcarryon.”
He’sright.Beinghere,aroundIsaac,beingpulledintowhatever’sgoingon…sheisn’tready.Whatshe’scomeherefor,it’llhavetowait.
“Ithinkyou’re—”Shestops,pickingupasuddenmovementnearthedoor.“Will,something’sbeingpushedunderthedoor.”
Walkingover,hecrouchesdown,pickssomethingup
—apieceofpaper.
Heunfoldsitandstartsreading.
“Whatisit?”
“They’reevacuatingthehotel.We’vegottoleavetomorrow.”34
DayThree
Elevena.m.Thethirdandpenultimatebusisreadytoleave.
Sittinginthelounge,Elinwatchesthestaffswarmthelobby,draggingsuitcasesandbags,shoutinginstructions.
Themajorityoftheguestsarealreadydownthemountain,butthereareafewleft,standingquietlyinsmallgroups,lookingoverwhelmedbythenoiseandchaos
Willcatcheshereye.“We’vegottogetthenextbus,Elin.Wecan’tleaveitanylonger.”
“Iknow,butIwantedtospeaktoIsaacfirst.”Pouringacoffee,shetipsinsomemilk,watchestheliquidswirl.
“Wecan’tjustgo,notwithoutseeinghim.”
They’rethelastonestohavebreakfast.Thebuffettableisdepleted—allthat’sleftareafewcroissantsinabasket,someslicesoflocalham,teas,coffees,half-emptyjugsofjuice.
“Lookatitoutthere.”Willsitsdown,eyesfixedonthewindows.“It’sworse.”
Shefollowshisgazetowardtheterrace.Youcanbarelytellit’sdaytime;theskyisovercast,blackened,receptionfilledwithasilverylight.Thewindowsaregildedwithicebutyoucanstillseethesnow—frozenpelletsplummetingfromthesky.Thecarpark,thetreesbeyond,arechoked—softbedsofpowderdeepeningbytheminute.
It’slikethehotelisbeinginvaded;themountainitselfontheattack.
Asshesipshercoffee,asilencesettlesovertheroom.
Elinlooksovertothelobby.Themajorityofthestaffhavegone.Thebusmusthaveleft.Theyhaven’tseenitgobecausethecarparkisoutofviewontheright.Elin’sglad:watchingthepackedbuscrawlthroughtheheavysnowwouldmakeherdreadthejourneyahead.
Willpassesherhisphone.“We’vemadethenews.”
Shescansthearticle.
AVALANCHEPROMPTSSWISSHOTELEVACUATION
Busesaretodayevacuatingover200touristsandhotelstafffromave-starmountainsidehotelinSwitzerlandasheavysnowcauseswidespreaddisruptionacrosstheAlps.
LeSommet,locatedat2,200meters,isinanareaofextremelyhighriskforavalanches,saidKatherineLeonfromValaisPoliceinSion.
“eavalancheriskisnowatamaximumof5outof5withthemainpartofthestormstillduetoarrive.Whilesomeguestsdidn’twanttogo,themayor,inconjunctionwiththeCommunes,hasnoworderedthemandatoryevacuation,”
Leonsaid.“eavalancheriskisimmense.”
eevacuationwillbetakingplaceonSundaymorning,witheachbusferryingupto50peopleatatimetohotelsinnearbyCrans-Montana.
CecileCaron,thehotel’smanager,saidtheevacueesremainedcalm.
“ThoughtI’dfindyouhere.”
Elinlooksup.
Isaac.
Helooksdisheveled.Hishairisgreasy,curlslyingflat,mattedagainsthisscalp.Theskinabovehislefteyeisraw,shinyred,inflamed.
Hestudiestheirbags.“Readytogo?”Hisvoiceisflat,icy.
“Wehaveto,Isaac.Wedon’thaveachoice.”ElinexchangesaglancewithWill.“Evenifitwasn’tfortheevacuation,there’snothingIcandonow.”
“I’mnotgoing,”hesaysabruptly.“Icalledthepolicefirstthing.Theysaidthey’dcomeuptoday.I’mwaitingforthem.”
“You’resurethey’restillcoming?Aftertheevacuationorder?”
“Idon’tknow,butIcan’tleave.”Isaaclooksather,unblinking.“Whatifshe’soutinthis?Hurt?IfIgo,itcouldbedaysbeforeanyonegetsbackuphere.”
“Theywon’tletyoustayindefinitely.You’vegottoleaveittothepolice.”
“Police?”Isaaclaughshollowly.“Whatdoyouthinkthey’regoingtodo?Ifthestormgetsworse,they’renotgoingtorisktheirlivestofindher.That’showitworksinsituationslikethis,Elin—youknowthat.Theymakeacall,weighuptherisks.”
“Look,chancesarethingswillhavecalmeddowninafewdays.Youcancomebackup…”Shetrailsoff.Theybothknowhowunlikelythisis.Ifthestormprogressesasforecast,theroadsmighttakedaystoclear.Bythenitwouldbetoolate.“Isaac,we’renotgoingfar.We’llstayintown.Assoonastheweatherimproveswe’llcomebackup.”
“You’rereallygoing.”Hisfaceconstricts.“You’renobetterthanDad,areyou?Whenthegoinggetstough,yourun.”
Elinblinks,flinchingattheforceofhiswords.
Withoutsayinganythingelse,heturns,walksaway,doesn’tlookback.
Angersparksinsideher—athim,atherself.Sheroughlypushesbackherchair.
Willputsahandonherarm.“Lethimcalmdown.Hejustneeds—”
Buthedoesn’tgettofinishhissentence.
Screams.Screams,thenashout.
Thesoundismuffled,muted,likeit’scomingdownatunnel.
Thenafaceappearsatthewindow,twistedinanexpressionofabsoluteterror.35
Elin’scupfallsfromherhand,clatteringagainstherplate.Coffeestreaksacrossthetable:athin,darkslash.
Aman—staff,Elinthinks,takingintheuniform,thegraypuffercoatbrandedwiththesamelowercasedlesommet.
He’shammeringonthewindow,fistspoundingsohardtheglassisvibrating.Snowisbeingblownsideways,blurringhisface.Allshecanmakeoutisdark,closelycroppedhair,heavysetfeatures.
Thud.Thud.
Herheartaccelerates,trippingdoubletime.
Standingup,Willstumblestowardthewindow,Elinfollowingclosebehind.
Theman’sfacebecomesclearer,hisfeaturescontorted;hiseyesarewide,staring,pupilsenlarged.
He’smouthingsomething.“Lapiscine…”Therestofhiswordsarelosttothewind,thethickwallofglass.“Lapiscine…”themanrepeats,louderthistime,soshecanhearitthroughtheglass.Thepool.
“I’llgetsomeone,”Willsays,hisvoicetremulous.
Shenodswordlessly.Adrenalinecoursingthroughher,shegropesforthehandleofthedoorleadingontotheterrace.Shefindsit,pushingdownhard.
Itdoesn’topen.
Elinpushesagain.Harder.
Finally,itgives,freezingairhittinghercheeksalongwithpowderyflakesofsnow.
Themanmovestowardher,hisbodytrembling.“Lapiscine…”Hisvoiceishigh,gabbled,tippingintohysteria.Hesaysthewordsoverandover,finalsyllablemergingwiththefirst.Hepointstowardthespa.
Steppingoutontotheterrace,Elinlookswherehe’spointing,butshecan’tseeanything.Thespasitstotheleft,butit’sscreenedoffbyacomplexstructureoffencingandplanting.
“Please,letme—”
ElinrecognizesCecileCaron’svoicestraightaway.Willisbehindher.
“Letmethrough.”Cecile’salreadypullingonajacket.
Hertoneiscalm,authoritative,butElincanheartheflayedundertones:fear,panic.
“Axel,showme.”Followinghim,CecileturnstoElin.
“Please,gobackinside.”
Elinstaysput,watchesAxelstartwalkingbackalongtheterrace.Hismovementsareuncontrolled,jerky,feetgivingwayontheice,compactedsnow.
“I’vegottogowiththem.”
“No.”Willputsahandonherarm.“Youdon’tknowwhatthisis.”
Shehearshiswords,buttheydon’tregister.Whatifit’sLaure?
Goingbackinside,Elinpicksuphertoteandsnatcheshercoatfromthechair.Shepullsiton,headsoutside.
Cecileandthemandisappeardownasetofstepsattheendoftheterrace.
Elinstridestowardthem.Despiteherthickfleece,thewindcutsthroughthefabric,bitingintoherchest,herthroat.
Whenshereachesthesteps,shefindsthatthey’resteep,thetreadsicy.Clingingtothehandrail,shemovescarefully,precisely.
Atthebottom,there’sawoodenfenceseparatingthegroundsfromthespa.
AsAxelpushesthegateopen,thespacomesintoview.
Steamisbillowingoffthepools,twisting,coiling,asitrisestomeetthefallingsnow.
Sheincreasesherpaceuntilshe’srightbehindthem,feelsthewoodenslatsvibratebeneathherfeet.
Axelspeedsup,circlingthelargerpooluntiltheyreachthesmallerone,setalevellower.Hestops.“Ici.”
Hisarmshakesashepointstowardthepool.Here.
WithAxel’ssilhouetteblockingherviewofthewater,Elinhastosteptooneside.Alightisflickeringoverhead.
Asuddengustofwindwhipsthroughthevapor,teasingitapart,pullingittonothing.Thepoolcomesintoview,thecoveraboutathirdofthewayacross,snowcollectingunevenlyacrossthesurface.
It’sthensheseesit:thelifelessformofabodyatthebottomofthepool.Theuplighterscastadullglowupward,highlightingherhairdriftingaboutinthewater.
It’sshoulderlength.Dark.
Awoman,Elinthinks,bilerisinginherthroat.Arefrainisbeatingoutinherhead:Isither?Isither?
Elintakesastepcloser.Looksagain.Itisher.Sherecognizesherimmediately.Blackpufferjacket.Darkjeans.
Laure.36
Elin’smusclesseize,thescenearoundherbecomingstrangelydistant,droppinginandoutoffocus.
“Weneedtogetheroutofthewater.TryCPR.”
Ittakesheramomenttorealizeit’sherownvoice.Onautopilot.Calm.Incontrol.Nothinglikehowshe’sfeelinginside.
Butbeforeshe’sabletomove,ahandyanksatherarm.Someone’spushingroughlybetweenherandCecile.
Theirfootstepskickupsnow.
“It’sher,isn’tit?”Thevoiceisthin,high.Panicked.
Isaac.
“Move…justmove.”Hishandisstillonherarm,shoving.“Iwanttoseeifit’sher.”
He’spasthernow,hisexpressionwild,cheekspatchyblotchesofred.
Elinputsherbagdown,lurchesforward,triestoreachforhim.“Isaac,no—”
Butit’stoolate.Herhandbarelygrazeshisjacket,uselesslygropingtheair.Poundingpasther,he’salreadyskirtingthepool,slippingeveryfewstepsonthesnow.
He’sonlyyardsfromthewater.
“Isaac,please!”
Isaacignoresher,rippingoffhiscoat.Heclumsilykickshisshoesoffandaway.Divingintothepool,hebreaksthesurfacewithathunderingsplash.Waterarchesintoasloppyspray.
Above,thelightsarestillflickering.
Elincatchesonlyglimpses:Isaacblurred,luridlymagnifiedinthedistortionofthewaterashepropels
himselftothebottomofthepool.
Shecanbarelybreathe,panicclawingatherthroat,threateningtotakecontrol
Inwhatseemslikeseconds,Isaac’spullingbacktothesurface,onhisback,hisarmswrappedaroundtheshadowyshapeofLaure’sbody.
Letherbeokay.Pleaseletherbeokay.
Isaacreachesthesurfaceofthepool.Hishairisplasteredoverhisforeheadindark,raggedstreaks.He’sgaspingforbreath,chestheaving.
“I’llhelp.”Will’svoice,frombehindher.Shehadn’tevennoticedhewasthere.
Hedropstohiskneesattheedgeofthewater.
Leaningover,hehaulsLaurefromIsaac’sgrasp,hoistingherupontothedeckingbesideElin.
It’sthefirsttimethatsheseesthebodyfaceup.
Elinrecoils:avisceral,full-bodyreaction.
There’sablackgasmaskstrappedaroundLaure’sface.
No:notagasmask.There’snofilter.Initsplaceisathick,ribbedtube,runningfromnosetomouth.
Squattingnexttothebody,Will’salreadypullingthemaskaway,movingLaureontoherside.There’saprecisiontohismovements,adesperateurgency.
Themaskisgone
Elinstaresattheexposedface,waterrunninginfinedropletsoverthepaleskin.Herbreathcatchesinherthroatwithasharpjag.
It’snother.
Thewoman,whoeversheis,hassimilarhair,frame,clothes,butit’snotLaure
Willstartstippingherforeheadback,positioningherbodyforCPR,butElinknowswithoutdoubtthatit’stoolate.
Thewoman’sskinisbluish,hergreeneyesopeninahazydeathstare,mouthslightlyparted.
Still,Elinbendsdown,feelsforapulseinthewoman’sneck.Thereisn’tone
“Will,”shesayssoftly.“She’sdead.”She’ssureithasn’tbeenlong,though—rigormortisusuallyoccursaroundtwotosixhoursafterdeath,andithasn’tsetinyet.Elin’snoexpertbutsheknowsthatthewarmtemperatureofthewaterwouldpossiblyshortenthattimelineevenfurther—herguessisthatthewoman’sbeendeadforonetotwohoursatmost.
Isaachasn’tmoved.Stillsoakingwet,he’scrouchedbesidethelifelessbody.
Elinabsorbsthereaction.HereallythoughtitwasLaure,didn’the?Youcouldn’tfakethatresponse.
Theimplicationisclear:hegenuinelydidn’tknowwhereLaurewas.Hecan’thavebeeninvolvedinherdisappearance.
Hergazemovestothewoman’swrists.They’retightlyboundwithathin,wovenrope.
She’sbeenrestrained.
Thenhereyescatchsomethingelse:severalofthewoman’sfingersaremissing.Oneonthefirsthand.Twoonthesecond.Aninvoluntaryshiverpassesthroughher.
Willfollowshergaze,eyesglazed.“I’mgoingtotakeIsaacinside.Gethimdriedoff.”
Elinisabouttoreplywhenshehearsavoice.
“It’sAdele.”Cecile’svoice,frombehindher.Flat.
Expressionless.“Oneofthehousekeepingstaff.”
Turning,Elinseesthegroupbehindherhasswelledtofour,fivestaff.Oneofthemissobbing,theresttalkinginmuffledvoices,eyesdartingtowardthebody.
Ihavetodosomething—takecontrol.
Thisisprobablyacrimescene,andit’salreadyamess.
Thesnowsurroundingthepoolispockedwith
footprints,somesmeared,somealreadycoveredinafreshlayerofsnow.
Elinturnsbacktothebody.Snowiscollectingonthewoman’sface,clothes,themaskbesideher.Thesight,onceagain,pullsthebreathfromherbody.It’slikeshe’sonpause,everyfiberinherbodyinstasis.
Partofherwantstorun,blockitout,butsheknows:thismoment,it’sapivotpoint.Nowornever.Ifshecan’thelpnow,insuchadesperatesituation,whennooneelseisqualifiedtodoso,thenshe’llprobablyneverbeableto.
Turningproperly,shefacesthesmallgroupbehindher.
“Icanhelp.I’mapoliceofficer,”shesays,hesitantlyatfirst.
Thegroupdoesn’tlookup.
Elinallowsherselfamoment,collectsherthoughts.
Clearingherthroat,sheraiseshervoice.“I’mapoliceofficer.Pleasestepback.Thismightbeacrimescene.Wedon’twanttodestroyanyevidence.”37
I’vecalledthepolice.They’reontheirway.I…”
Cecilestops,eyespulledtowardthebody.Herfacecrumples.“Ican’thelpthinking,perhapsweshouldhavetriedtoresuscitateher.Itfeelswrong,noteven—”
“Therewasnothinganybodycoulddo,”Elinsayssoftly.It’sevenmoreobviousnow,shethinks,lookingatAdele’sbody,thestiffeningneck,thebluishhuetoherfeatures.
Bendingdown,shetakesacloserlook.ThewomanisaboutthesameageasLaure,perhapsalittleyounger.
Herblackpufferjacketisunzipped,herT-shirtriddenup,revealingathin,musculartorso.
Herinitialtheoryisright:rigormortisdefinitelyhasn’tdevelopedinherbody,soshehasn’tbeeninthewaterlong.
Herdarkhairismatted,thewateronthesurfacealreadyfreezingintotranslucentshards,theverytopfleckedwithsnow.Awhitishfoamisseepingfromhermouth.It’scoolingatthecorners,solidifying.
Elinknowswhatthismeans:thefrothisamixofmucus,air,andwaterthatcombinesduringrespiration.
Itspresenceisenoughtoindicatethatshebecameimmersedwhileshewasstillbreathing,thoughitisn’tenoughtoproveconclusivelythatshedrowned.
AsElinglancesathereyes,shecanseethatthey’relifelike,glistening.Nolinestoindicateexposuretoairpostdeath.
Hergazetrackssidewaystothemaskonthesnow.
Herskinprickles.Theblackrubberisalreadydusted
withsnow,butitdoesn’ttakeawayfromitsgrotesqueshape,form.
Whatisit?
Elin’salwayshatedmasks,ofanykind:Halloween,surgical.Theconcealment,ithorrifiesher.Notknowingwhatlurksbeneath.
“Thatmask”—Cecilefollowshergaze—“Irecognizeitfromthearchive.Itwasusedhere,inthesanatorium.Abreathingaid.”Shebringsahanduptohermouth,startschewingathernails.
Elinnods.Whatdiditmean?Somekindofgamegonewrong?Somethingsexual?
ShelooksagainatAdele’shands.Theropearoundherwristssuggestsshe’sbeenrestrained,possiblyheldsomewhereforawhile.Enoughtimetoamputatethefingers,shethinksgrimly,hergazemovingtothesmallstubsremaining,abouthalfacentimeterabovetheknuckle.
Butthere’sstillnoindicationofhowshegotinthewater,andwhathappenedwhileshewasinthere.
Allsignspointtothefactshedrowned,sowhyhaditbeensouneventful?Ifshewasalivewhenshewentinthewater,whyhadnooneheardanything?Evenwithherhandstiedbehindherback,shecouldhavefloated,treadedwater,givenherselfenoughtimetoshoutforhelp.Splashed…
Evenifsomeonehadheldherdown,whichlookedunlikelygiventhelackofabrasions,therewouldstillhavebeennoise,sowhyhadnooneheardanything?
It’sthenElinseesit:asmall,darkshadowonthebottomofthepoolafewyardsfromwhereAdele’sbodyhadbeen.Withamountingsenseofdisquiet,shestandsup,directingthebeamoftheflashlightintothewater.
Asandbag.
Elinsucksinherbreath.Adelewasweighteddown.
That’swhynooneheardanything.Someonehadwantedherdeadquickly.Efficiently.
Anylingeringdoubtsshehasaregone:asudden,sharpjagofrealizationinhergut.
This…itisn’tanaccident.She’sbeenkilled.
Thisismurder.
Adarkbubbleofhorroropensinsideher.
Elinfeelsaphysicalpainatthis:alifesnuffedoutsoviolently.Athousandotherwayswouldhavebeenquicker,morepainless.Thiswasaboutmakinghersuffer.
LookingagainatAdele’sface,herexpression,thelookinhereyes,takesonanewmeaning.It’sanexpressionoffear,Elinthinks.Ofabjectterror.
Adelewasscaredbecausesheknewwhatwasabouttohappen.
She’dhavefelttheweightofthesandbagpullingherdown,sensedthewaterclosingaroundthemask,seepingbeneaththeplastictoreachhereyesandmouth.She’dhavefranticallymovedaboutonthebottomofthepool,usingthepreciousbreathshehadlefttryingtobreakfree.Holdingherbreathuntilshecouldholditnolonger,involuntarilyinhalingthewater,untildropbydropitreplacedtheairinherlungs.
Elintriestogatherherthoughts.
Whowoulddosomethinglikethis,andwhy?Therewouldhavetobeaprettystrongmotive.
Hermindstartschurningitover,thinkingofnextsteps.Whomtospeakto.Thequestionsshe’llask.Butthenrealityhits.Shehastoremindherself:Thisisn’tmycase.Thepolicewillbeheresoon.Shehastoleaveittothem.
Elinhearssomeonebehindher,clearingtheirthroat.
“Please,”shesaysautomatically,“keepback.Weneedtokeepthesceneclear.”
Butthefootstepskeepcoming.
Turning,she’spoised,readytobemoreforceful.
LucasCaron.
Theangrywordsofwarningslipawayunderthescrutinyofhisgaze.
He’stallerthaninthephotographs;hisblacktechnicaljacketispulledtautoverbroadshoulders,butheisn’tbulky.Thisisafunctionalfitness,fromhoursspentoutsideactuallydoingasportratherthanpumpingironinagym.Onceagain,sheimagineshimhalfwayupamountain.Hangingoffacliff.
Throughamessycurtainofhair,helookstowardthebody,hisfeaturestightening.Herubsahandacrosshisbeard,fleckedwithsnow.Thisclose,there’snodoubtinghisconnectiontoCecile.Thephysicalresemblanceisunnerving.
“LucasCaron.”Heholdshishandout.
Elinshakesit.Hispalmfeelscalloused.Rough.
“ElinWarner.”Shegesturesdownatthesnow-covereddecking.“I’msorry,butyoushouldn’treallybewalkinghere.I’mtryingtopreservethesceneforthepolice.”
Lucas’sgrayeyeslockonhers.“That’swhatIneedtotellyou.Thepolice…theyaren’tcoming.”Hisvoiceislow,urgent.“There’sbeenanavalanche.Theroadisblocked.Theycan’tgetthrough.”38
Theavalancheisabouthalfamiledown.Oneofthedrivershasbeentheretotakealook,saysit’saboutfifteenfeethigh.They’llbeabletoclearit,butitcouldtakeafewdays.”Lucastugsupthehoodofhisjacket.Themovementmomentarilyobscureshisface,butElin’salreadyseentheflareofpanicinhiseyes.
“Theycan’tclearitanyquicker?”
“Noteasily.”Hisexpressionisgrim.“It’sadryavalanche.Notjustsnow.It’sliterallystrippedthemountain—trees,rocks,vegetation.It’samonster.”
“Whyisitsohardtoclear?”
“Theseavalanches…they’reincrediblyviolent.Theforceofthefallactslikeagrinder,dividingthesnowintofinerandfinerparticles.Bythetimeitcomestoastop,thesnowissodenselypackedthatyoucan’tuseablower,asthedebrisgetscaughtinthemachine.”Heclearshisthroat.“It’sthemovementtoo.Theavalanchewarmsatinylayerofthesnow,creatingaliquidthatfreezes,sotheavalancheisn’tjustcompacted,butsetlikeconcrete.”
“Andthere’snootherwaytogettotown?”
“No.Theonlyotherwayisbyhelicopter,butthewind’stoostrong.Theywon’ttakeoneupinthis.It’snotsafe.”
Elindigestshiswords,theimpactofwhathe’ssayingfinallyhittinghome.They’reontheirown.
Glancingbackdownatthebody,asteadybeatoftrepidationsoundsoutinhergut.
“Areyouabletohelp?Untiltheygethere?”Lucasshiftsfromfoottofoot.“Thereareonlyafewguestsleft,butwehavealotofstafftoo.Ican’ttakeanyrisks.”
Elinsenseshimtakingstockofthesituation,ofher.
Forthefirsttimeshecanseetheinnateconfidenceofabusinessman,ashrewdnessatoddswiththelaid-backappearance.He’susedtobeingincontrol,shethinks,watchinghim.Givingorders.
“Ican’t.Idon’thaveanyjurisdictionhere.”Norathome,Elinthinks,bitingdownonherbottomlip,alreadyregrettingthelieshe’dtold.
“Butyoucanhelp,surely?Whilewewaitforthem?”
Lucasglancesaroundhim,hisexpressionset—tooset,asifhe’smaskinghispanic.“This,it’snotsomethinganyoneherecould…”Hetrailsoff,asifthemagnitudeofwhathe’sfacingisoverwhelminghim.
Elinfeelsasharppangofsympathy;he’sinoverhishead.Apossiblemurderonhispremises,whentheyhadn’tbeenopenlong…Thehotel’sreputationisatstake.Hewantstodothingstherightway.Damagelimitation.
“Ihonestlydon’tknowwhatIcando.Switzerlandhasdifferentprocedures,protocol.”
“Itcan’tbethatdifferent,surely?”Hisvoicehasanedge.“Thebasics.”
Elinwavers.“Letmecallthepolice,”shesaysfinally.
“Ifthey’rehappyformetobeinvolved,thenI’llseewhatI’mallowedtodointhesecircumstances.”
Lucaspullshisphonefromhispocket.“Youneedtocall117,themainpoliceswitchboardnumber.Everycallgoesthroughtherefirst.”
Shedoesashesays.Thecallisansweredalmostinstantly.
“Bonjour,Police.Commentvousappelez-vous?
GrüeziPolizei,WieischIhrenamebitte?”Thevoiceismale,formal.
Heatrushestohercheeks,herjuvenilefearofspeakinganotherlanguagekickingin.“Hello,I—”
“Yes,IspeakEnglish,”themaninterrupts.“HowmayIhelp?”
“MynameisElinWarner.I’matthehotelLeSommetnearCrans-Montana.Ithinkyou’vealreadyspokentotheownerofthehotelaboutthesituation.IwantedtoseeifIcouldhelp.”
“Help?”herepeats,hisvoiceclipped,wary.
“Yes.I’madetective,intheUKpoliceforce.Mr.Caronhasaskedmetoassistasthepolicecan’treachus.I’mconcernedbecausethesceneisquicklydeteriorating.Idon’tknowhowmuchevidenceI’llbeabletosalvage,butI’dliketotry.”
Apausebeforehespeaksagain.“Okay,onemoment.Iwillputyouonhold.”
Frowning,Lucaslooksather.“Whataretheysaying?”
Elinmovesthephoneaway.“Nothingyet.I’monhold.”
“MadameWarner,areyouthere?”Thepoliceofficerisbackontheline.
Shebringsthephonebacktoherear.“Yes.”
“Ihaveaskedthequestionaboutyourassistancetomysergeant.Weneedtodiscuss,andthenI’llcallyouback.”
Elinsaysgood-byeandhandsthephonebacktoLucas.“They’llletmeknow.Eitherway,myinstinctisthatweneedtodosomethingimmediately.Itshouldn’tinterferewiththepolicework.”Timeisoftheessence,evenwhenthevictimisdead—snowwashesawayevidence,fibers,hairs.Memoriesstarttofade.“Thefirstpriorityistopreserveasmuchofthesceneaspossible.
It’svitalweprotectanyevidence.Nomatterhowsmall.”
Herwordssoundmoreconfidentthanshefeels.Elinstaresintothechoppydepthsofthepoolwithafeelingofdespair.Thisisgoingtobeanuphillstruggle,theworstcrimesceneyoucouldprobablyget:inconstantflux,windandsnowcollectingontopofothersnow,eclipsingpotentialevidence,peoplealreadytrampledoverthescene,aroundthepool.
“Whatdoyouneed?”Lucasclearshisthroat.
Elinstealsasidewaysglanceathim,watchingashisgaze,onceagain,movestothewoman’sbody.Thistimeshenoticesanewemotionflickeracrosshisfeatures,anemotionshecan’tdecipher.
Embarrassment?
It’spossible.Thegrimrealityofadeathaffectspeopleinmyriadways.
“Weneedropetoputuparoughcordonaroundthepool.Iknowmostoftheguestshavegone,butit’saremindertothestaff.”Elin’smindstartschurningoverprotocol.“Icanusemyphonetotakephotographs,thenIneedtoscourthepoolarea,baganyevidence.”Shehesitates.“Ifyouhaveanyplasticgloves,sealablebags,sterileequipment,liketweezers,itwouldbehelpful.”
“I’msurewe’vegotmostofwhatyouneed.Itmightberudimentary,but…”Breakingoff,Lucasbeckonsoverseveralmembersofstaff.
“I’llalsoneedafulllistofeveryonewhoisstillinthehotel.Guests,staff.”
“Noproblem,”Lucasreplies.“It’sallwrittendown.”
Elinreachesintoherpocket,andpullsoutherphone.
Whereshouldshestartwiththephotographs?
Adele’sbody.
Thegustingwindisalreadychangingthescene;depositingsnowonAdele’sfeatures,tuggingatherclothes.ButbeforeElincanstart,avoice:barelyaudibleagainstthesoundofthewind.
“I’vefoundsomething.”39
Turninginthedirectionofthevoice,Elincanseeafemalememberofstaffafewfeetahead,herhandtremblingintheair.
Elincarefullyskirtsthesideofthepool,walkingtowardher.Asshegetscloser,shecanseethatthewoman’syoung—earlytwentiesatthemost.Herhair’sscrapedbackfromherface,revealingbrown,hauntedeyes.
WhenElinstopsbesideher,thewoman’shandlowers,fingerpointingtowardthedecking.
Elin’sgazepullsdownward.Sheinstantlynoticestheglassboxbesideher,halfconcealedbythelegsofachair.
Asudden,liquidfeelingofdread.Sheknows,fromthewoman’sexpression,thatwhateverthisis…itisn’tgood.
“Isawit,whenIstartedwalkingback.”Thewoman’svoicecracks,ahandcominguptohermouth.
Elinnodsandcrouchesdowntoexaminethebox.It’snotdissimilartothedisplayboxesallaroundthehotel:madeentirelyofglass,notmorethanafootandahalfinlength.
Afinelayerofsnowiscoveringthesurface,butasectionoftheglasshasalreadybeencleared,presumablybythewoman—fingertipmarksstreakedthroughthefine-powdersnow.
Elinstartsatthehalf-revealedcontents,herstomachcontracting.
Fingers.Threefingers.
Thefleshisahorriblegrayishwhite,markedwithdarksmearsofblood.
ThesemustbeAdele’s.
Elin’shandsstarttrembling,herstomachstillchurning.
Deepbreaths,shetellsherself,feelingtheeyesoftheothersonher.Steelingherself,shecroucheslower,carefullyblowingtherestofthesnowaway.
Elincanseeeverythingnow:theminutiae,thedetail.
Justasitwasdesigned,shethinks,repulsed.Thisglassismeantforpryingeyes.
Eachfingerisattachedtothebottomoftheboxwithafinenail.Surroundingeachoneisathincopperbracelet.
Threefingers.Threebracelets.
Shetipsherhead.Shecanjustaboutmakeoutsomethingengravedontheinsideofthefirstbracelet.
Numbers?
Movingclosertotheglass,shecanseethatshe’sright:thereisarowoffivetinynumbers.87499.Hergazeflickerstothenextbracelet:thesamethingagain.87534.
AsElintakesaphotograph,herbrainistryingtoprocesswhatshe’sseeing:someone’samputatedAdele’sfingers,thenfixedthemtothisboxwiththebraceletsaroundthem.
Itmeansthatthiswasn’taspur-of-the-momentthing.
Itwasplanned.Premeditated.Everyelement—therestraint,amputation,thesandbag,this…
Allcarefullythoughtout,partofanarrative.Becausethat’swhatitis,shethinks,nauseasweepingoverher:astory.They’retryingtocommunicatesomething.Which,inturn,impliesanorganizedcrime.Anorganizedkiller.
Thisissomeoneintelligent,savvyabouthowthepolicework.Whichprobablymeansthere’llbelittleevidencetogoon.Someonehardertofind.
Elinfeelstheprickleofsweatunderherarms.I’moutofmydepth.Thisisn’thercountryandhalfofwhatshe’sdoingnowisn’therareaofexpertise.
Whenshelooksbacktothebox,herowninadequacytauntsher,flashesofherpastmistakesloominglarge.
Shefeelsherchesttighten,hervisionblur,andwhensheblinks,sherealizesthecontentsoftheboxhavechanged.Thefingersareswelling;becomingbigger,bloodier.Thebloodisnolongerdry;it’sseepingfromthetipsofthefingers,leachingthroughtheedgesoftheboxontothesnow.
Blood.
Somuchbloodit’scarvingchannelsinthesnow,alreadyreachingthetipofherboot…
Staringinhorror,Elinstumblesbackward.She’sstrugglingtogetherbreath.
Shewrencheshergazefromthebox,andpullsherinhalerfromherpocket,takestwo,threepuffs.
“Iseverythingallright?”
Elinlooksup.LucasCaronisstandingaboveher,hisfaceexpressionless.Thewindistuggingathisjacket,creasingthefabricintothinfolds.
“Fine.”Shepushesherinhalerbackintoherpocket,takesseveraldeepbreathsuntilshefeelsherbreathingsettle.
“I’vegotsomeofthethingsyouaskedfor.”Lucaspassesherasmallcardboardbox.“Theglovesandbags.
Therestoftheequipmentiscoming.Oneofthestaffismakingsureeverythingissterile.”
“Thankyou.”Elintakesoutapairofglovesandabag.
Shereachesforhertote,putstherestinside.
Castingasidelongglanceatthebox,shecanseethattheblood,theoversizedfingers,they’regone.It’sasitwasthefirsttimeshelookedatit.
Buttheterrorremains,aterroruniquetoasituationlikethis.
What’shappenedhere,itisn’tlogical,rational,somethingthatcanbeexplained.Elinknowsithasits
rootsinsomethingdark,somethingsodarkitfeelsalmosttangible,apresenceinitself.40
Elintugsoffherplasticglovesasshewalksintothespachangingrooms.Shevigorouslyrubsherhandstogether.They’recold,herfingertipsred,butnotfreezing.
It’stheonebenefitofallherrunning,thehoursspentpoundingthecoastroad,theDartmoorhillsinbitterconditions—herbody’sstrong,accustomedtobeingoutofitscomfortzone.
Shelooksatherwatch.It’s4:30p.m.OverfivehourssincetheyfoundAdele’sbody.It’snowpitchblackoutside,theconditionsdeterioratingfurther—snowwhirlingmadly,asifbeingturnedinacentrifuge,fatwhiteflakesilluminatedbythelightsagainstthedarkskyabove.
Everynowandthen,thewindpicksupsnowfromtheground,sendingitinaterrifyingdancebeforedumpingitsomewhereelse.IfthishadbeenintheUK,theCSIswouldhavebeenwild.ElinpictureshercolleagueTim’spinchedfaceandfurrowedbrow,theexpletive-ladenmutteringunderhisbreath.
Shecan’tdomuchmore—she’stakenhundredsofphotographs,noteddownthebracelets’numbers,andmethodicallycollectedanypossibleevidence,whichwasfewandfarbetween.Herinitialinstinctwasright:whoeverdidthiswasorganized.
There’snexttonothinginthemakeshiftevidencebags;somehairs,severalemptysugarsachets,afewcigarettebutts.Apairofbluebikinibottoms,snarledintoaknot,halfburiedinthesnow.She’scollectedthemall,butsheisn’thopeful.
Asshestartstogatherupherthings,Elinfeelsherphonevibrateinherpocket.Whenshepullsitout,she
doesn’trecognizethenumber—itlooksforeign.
“Hello…”
“Goodafternoon,mayIspeakwithElinWarner?”Aman’svoice,theEnglishheavilyaccented.NotaFrenchlilt,butGerman.Clipped,guttural.
“Speaking.”
“ThisisInspecteurUeliBerndt,fromthePoliceJudiciaire,Valais.”Heclearshisthroat.“IunderstandyouwantedtospeaktosomeoneaboutassistingwiththeongoingsituationatLeSommet.”
Elinhesitates,momentarilytakenabackathisdirectness,theformalityofhistone.“That’sright.Wouldyoulikemetotakeyouthroughthedetailsofthescene?”
“MonsieurCarontoldmyofficerwhathappened,butI’dliketohearitagain,fromyourperspective.”
HelistensquietlyasElinhaltinglytalkshimthroughthefacts,herobservations.Shecanhearpenonpaperinthebackground,hisslow,rhythmicbreaths,andshecan’thelpbutbeacutelyawareofherrustinessinrelayingtheinformation—herimpreciselanguage,thelackofconvictioninhertone.
Shefinishes,buthedoesn’tspeakrightaway.Shecanstillheartheroughscratchofpenonpaper,murmuredvoicesinthebackground.
Whenhefinallydoesreply,histoneismeasured.
“Okay,sothissituation,it’sunusual.Normally,we’dneedtobepresent,tocometothescene,seeproofoftheincidentbeforeweformallyopenaninvestigationwiththeprosecutor.”
“Iunderstand.”Phonepressedtoherear,Elinstartsmoving,walksthelengthofthechangingroom.“Andthere’snowayyoucangetanyoneuphere?”
“No.”Berndt’stoneismatter-of-fact.“I’vespokenwiththegendarmerie,thelocalpoliceinCrans-Montana,butthey’renotabletogetanyonetoyoueither.”
“Sowheredoesthatleaveus?”Elinpacesbacktheotherway.Shecanfeelherselfgrowinghot,notfromthe
movement,butfromthesteadypulseoffearinherstomachastherealityofhiswordshithome.
Wereallyareonourown.Totallyisolated.
“That’swhatwe’vebeendiscussing.Thissituation…
itisdelicate,somethingwe’venothadtoconsiderbefore.
We’vesetupataskforcetodecidenextsteps.Myselfasinvestigatingofficer,thegendarmerierepresentingCrans-Montana,aprosecutor,andtheGrouped’Intervention.”
“Haveyoucometoanyconclusions?”Elinlistenstothehowlofthewindoutside,adeafeningclapofthunder.
“Yes.TheSwissConstitutionisclearthatyouhavenoauthorityhereasaUKofficer;however,afterdiscussion,theprosecutorhasadvisedthathe’shappyifyoucarryoutspecificinstructions.”Berndt’svoicesoftensslightly.
“Ithinkwewouldbestupidinthiscircumstancenottouseyourexpertise.”Hehesitates.“Thereisonethingweneedtocheckfirst,though.IsMr.Caronhappyforyoutobeinvolved?”
“Heis.He’stheonewhoaskedmetohelpout.Youcancontacthim,askhimtoconfirm—”
“Okay,”Berndtreplies.“Couldyoupleasetellmehowmanypeopleareleftinthehotel?”
“Forty-fivealtogether.Mr.Caronhasalreadysharedalog.”
“Thebreakdownintostaffandguests?”
“Thereareeightguestsandthirty-sevenstaff.Themajorityhadalreadybeenevacuatedbythetimetheavalanchestruck.Thelastbus,whichneverleft,wasmeanttotakeeveryoneremaininginthehotel.”
“That’sbetterthanIthought.Thenumberismanageable.So,asI’msureyou’reaware,thefirstpriorityissafety.Pleaseusestandardproceduretotrytocontainthesituation.Ineedyoutokeepeveryonetogether,asmuchaspossible.Ifthatisn’tviable,you’llneedtomakesureyouknowwheretheyare.”
“Fine.”Sofar,assheexpected.
“Thenwe’llneedanyphotographsyouhavetakenofthesceneandofevidence.Youcansendthesetomedirectly.”Heclearshisthroat.“Thenextpriorityistogetafulllistofnames,datesofbirth,andaddressesofeveryonepresentandascertaintheirwhereaboutsthismorning.”
“That’sfine.Wouldyoulikemetospeaktothepersonwhofoundher,oranyoftheotherwitnesses?”Elintakesaseatonthebenchbehindher,feelingsuddenlydrained,thepastfewhoursstartingtotaketheirtoll.
Berndtpauses.“Yes.Obviouslythesewon’tbeclassifiedasformalinterviews,admissibleintheinvestigation,butthey’llstillbehelpful.”
“Thatmakessense,”Elinreplies,butsheknowsthatintermsofcontent,they’llhavetobe.Theycan’taffordtobeanythingbutthorough,notatthisstage.Shehesitates,anotherthoughtstrikingher:Laure.Shehastomakehimawareshe’smissing.
“There’sonemorething,”shestarts.“Someone’smissingfromthehotel.She’sactuallyamemberofstaff,butwasstayinghereforherengagementparty.Mybrother,Isaac,reportedittothepoliceyesterday.”
“I’vebeenbriefed.”Benrdt’svoiceisclipped.“HernameisLaureStrehl,isthatright?”
“Yes.”
“Canyourunmethroughthecircumstancesagain?”
Elinlistswhatsheknows,realizingthatit’sverylittle.
Noonesawhergo,andsheonlyhasIsaac’swordonherlastmovements.
“Isitpossiblesheleftofherownaccord?”Berndtasksasshefinishes.
“Yes,butIthinkit’sunlikelygiventheconditions,andthefactthatshedidn’ttakeherpurse.Shehasn’tbeenhome.I’vechecked.”
“WecancheckCCTVatthestationinCrans,Sierre”—
Berndtmurmurssomethingtosomeoneinthebackground—“seeifshegottheresomehow.”Hepauses.
“Andthere’sdefinitelynosignsofanyviolence,anabduction?”
“No,butafterfindingAdele,I’mconcerned.”
“That’sunderstandable.”Hetakesabreath.“Andisthereanythingyou’velearnedsofarthatmighthelpusascertainwhat’shappenedtoher?”
“Nothingdefinitive,butthereareafewthingsthatmightbeworthyourlookinginto.Ifoundacardforapsychologistinheroffice.Mybrothersaidshe’dhaddepression.Theymightbeabletogivesomeinsightintoherrecentstateofmind.”
“Anythingelse?”
“I’vefoundoutthatshehasasecondphone.It’snotconnectedtowork,andmybrotherdidn’tknowanythingaboutit.ThenightbeforeshedisappearedIoverheardheroutside,makingacall.Icouldn’tunderstand,becauseshewasspeakingFrench,butitwasobviousthatshewasagitated.Angry.”
“Youthinkshemighthavebeenusingthissecondphonetomakethecall?”
“Yes.”
“I’llrequestrecordsfromboththeprovidersandwe’llalsocontactthepsychologist.Ifyousendmethedetails
—”
Elinflipsthecalltospeakermodeashespellsouthise-mailaddress.Shetapsitintoherphone.
“Thankyou,”Berndtsays,“andpleasekeepusinformedifthesituationchanges.We’llupdateyouregardingtheweather,ifwecangetanyoneouttoyou,andifwegetanythingbackfromtheinformationyou’veprovided.”
TheytalkforafewmoreminutesandthenElinsaysgood-bye.Despiteherutterexhaustion,shefeelsaflickerofpride:Ididit.
Severaltimes,she’dfeltit,likeashadowbehindher—
theclaustrophobiaofanattackclosingin,butshe’dovercomeit,putthefearbehindher.
Buttheflickerofeuphoriaisshort-lived.
What’shappenedtoAdelehasmadefindingLaureevenmoreurgent.Ifthetwoarelinked,andthekillerisholdingLaureliketheyhadAdele,thenit’sonlyamatteroftimebeforesomethinghappenstoher.
LikeAdele,Laure’sabductionwouldbepremeditated,andlookingatAdele’sbody,she’sgotagoodideaofwhat’scomingnext.41
ElinfindsAxelinthelounge.He’ssittingapartfromthegroupofstaffatthetablenexttohim,lookingoutatthedarksky,thefallingflakesofsnowilluminatedbytheoutsidelights.Thecoffeeinfrontofhimlooksuntouched,amilkyskinlyingonthesurface.
Hisfaceispale,expressionless,seeminglyoblivioustothesenseofsuppressedpanicintheroom,thelowmurmurofchatter,butElin’sseenthatlookenoughtimestoknowwhatitis.Shock.
Elingentlytoucheshisarm.“Axel?”
“Oui?”hereplies,barelylookingup.Whenhisgazefinallydragsaroundtomeethers,shenoticeshiseyesarebloodshot,theskinaroundthemswollen.
“Myname’sElinWarner,”shestarts,herwordsdrownedoutbyanotherclapofthunder,ajaggedboltoflightningsplittingthedarkness.
Shetriesagain.“Axel,I’maguesthere,inthehotel,butI’malsoapoliceofficerintheUK.Mr.CaronhasaskedmetomakesomeinquiriesaboutAdele’sdeathwhilewe’rewaitingforthepolicetoarrive.”
Henods.
“AreyouhappytospeakinEnglish?”
“It’sfine.”Hishandsarebunchedupinhislap,fingersknottedtogether.
“IwaswonderingifyoucouldtellmewhathappenedbeforeyoufoundAdele.It’simportantwerecordthedetailswhileyourmemoriesarefresh,sowe’reabletosharethemwiththepolicewhentheyarrive.”
“I’lltry,”hesayshaltingly,pullingoutthechairbesidehim.
Takingtheseathe’soffered,Elinwithdrawshernotebookfromherbag.“Ifyoucanbeginwiththemomentsbefore,whatyouweredoingoutside—”
“Iwasgoingtocheckthepools,”hestarts,eyesstillgluedtothesceneoutside.“Makesuretheywerecovered.Theevacuationwasnearlycomplete…
managementwantedthepoolareasecured.”
Elinnodsencouragingly.
“I’djustdonethemainpool,wasstartingonthesecond.That’swhenIsawher.”Hisvoiceisshaky.“I’djustsetthecovergoing.It’selectronic,automatic.Itwasaboutathirdofthewayacrosswhenthewindgusted,strippedthesteamfromthepool.”Hisfingerstwitch.“Ididn’teventhinkitwasapersonatfirst,butthenIcouldseeherhair.Movinginthewater.”
There’saheavysilence.
“That’swhenIran.”Axelstops,putshishandtohisface.“Iknowwhatyou’regoingtosay:Whydidn’tIjumpin,pullherout?Ikeepaskingmyselfthat,replayingit.IfI’djustjumpedinthen,shemighthavehadachance.”
Elinputsahandonhisarm,ignoringthelookscomingfromtheneighboringtable.“Axel,peopledon’talwaysreactinthesameway,”shesaysgently,loweringhervoice.“There’snorightwayofdealingwithsomethinglikethis,andregardless,Ireallydon’tthinktherewasanythingyoucouldhavedone.I’msureshewasgonebythetimeyoufoundher.”
Fromthelookonhisface,Elinknowshedoesn’tbelieveher.He’lllivewiththisforever.Gooveritinhisheadathousandtimesaday.Whatif,whatif,whatif.
“Andinthemomentsbeforeyoufoundher,youdidn’tseeanythingsuspiciousaroundthepoolarea?”
“No,butthenIwasn’toutthereforlong.Iwashelpingwiththebuses.Theywerehavingproblemsinthecarparkbecauseofthesnow.”
“Youdidn’tseeanyoneelse?Anothermemberofstaff?Guests?”
“No.Therewereonlyafewguestsleft,andthestaffwhowereleftwerehelpingwiththeevacuation.”
Elinfeelsasurgeofdespondency.Nowitnesses.It’sunlikelyanyonesawanything.Thekillerprobablytookadvantageofthefactthatthehotelwasbeingevacuated.
Noguestswouldbeoutthere,andwithonlyaskeletonstaff.Theperfectmoment
Sheflipshernotebooktothenextpage.“HowwelldidyouknowAdele?”
“Notvery.Tosayhelloto,maybe.”Axelshrugs.“I’vegotafamily.Threechildren.Idon’treallysocializewithanyonehereoutsideofwork.”
“Soyouprobablywouldn’tbeawareofanyissuesshemighthavehad?”
“No,butshe’llknowmore.”Hegesturesatadark-hairedwomanatthenexttable.“That’sFelisa,thedirectorofhousekeeping.Adeleworkedforher.”
“Okay,thankyou.”Elinstands,andgathersupherbag.“Doletmeknowifyouthinkofanythingelse,evensomethingsmall.”
“Wait.”Axelfrowns.“Thereissomething.It’sprobablynotrelevant,butAdele…Isawherarguingwithsomeone.”
Curiositypiqued,shesitsbackdown.“Recently?”
“Lastweek.I’dbeentothespa,themainpool,clearingupaspillage.Adelewasatthebackofthebuilding.
WhenIcamearoundthecorner,Iheardraisedvoices.Itwas…heated.Irememberthinkingtheyweresocaughtup,theybarelynoticedme.”
“Didyouhearwhatitwasabout?”
“Ididn’tcatchit.Icarriedoninside.”Hegivesahumorlesssmile.“Ialwayssay,don’tgetinvolvedinworkthings.Keepyourheaddown.”
Elindigestshiswords.“Didyourecognizewhoshewasarguingwith?”
“Yes.Theassistantmanagerhere.Hername’sLaure.
LaureStrehl.”42
Aconnection,Elinthinks,walkingtowardFelisa.AconnectionbetweenLaureandAdele.Theyclearlykneweachotherwellenoughtoargueaboutsomething.
Coulditlinktowhat’shappened?
Pushingthethoughtaside,shestopsbesidethetable,afewfeetaway.“Felisa?”
Thewomannods,studyingElin,thenotebookinherhand.She’sslightwithdelicatefeatures,perfectlyarchedbrowstaperingtotwothinpoints.Herdarkhairisarrangedinacomplexplait.Herskinisoliveintone.
Spanish,perhaps?Portuguese?
“ThisisaboutAdele?”
Elinnods.“Isitokayifwemove,forsomeprivacy?”
Shegesturestoanemptytablenearby.
“Ofcourse.”FelisalooksatElinproperlyagain,assessing.Hereyesmovetotheblondstraggleofhairtuckedbehindherears,thehelixpiercing.She’sheardshe’sapoliceofficer,hasn’tshe?Expectssomething…
different.
Elin’susedtothis—she’swellawarewhatpeoplesaybehindherback.Blokey.Toofocusedonhercareertomakethe“bestofherself.”Whateverthatmeant.
Shedoesn’tcare;she’salwaysfoundithard,thewhole
“feminine”thing.
Eversinceshewaslittlesheknewthattherewasaworldouttherebeyondher—atribeofwomenwithglossyhairanddexterousfingersthatknewhowtotwistandteasehairintocomplexstyles.WomenwhowatchedvideosonYouTubeaboutmasteringtheexactrightshadingtechniquetomaketheircheekbones“pop.”
HerfriendHelen,adetectiveconstable,wasoneofthem.She’dshownElinonce,overwineandcurry.Avideoabout“contouring.”Repeatedit,asifseeingitseveraltimeswouldmakeElinunderstanditbetter,butitstillfeltlikeaforeignlanguage.Aninstrumentshe’dnevermaster.
ShemovestotheseatoppositeFelisa,butbeforeshecansitdown,aguestapproachesher.She’sinherlatethirties,smallandcurvy,herdarkhairwoundintoalooseknot.Herexpressionispinched,anxious.Elineyesherwarily.
Thewomanstepsforward;tooclose.She’sinElin’spersonalspace.
“Excuseme,youarethepoliceofficer,yes?”Herwordsarestronglyaccented:Italian,possibly.
“Yes,I—”
“We’reworried,”thewomaninterrupts,throwingaglancebehindhertothetableontheleft.“Myparents…
areolder,they’re…”Shehesitates,foreheadcreasinginconcentrationasifshecan’tfindtherightwords.
“They’restrugglingwiththis.Frightened.Ithinkweneedmoreinformation.”
Elinclearsherthroat.“Please,Iunderstandthesituationisalittlescary,butwehavethingsundercontrol.Therehavebeenalotofdiscussionsalreadywithlocalpoliceandaplanisinplace.I…”Shesensesshe’srambling,sostops.
Thewomanfrowns,somethingnewinherexpression.
Anger,Elinthinks.Anormalresponsewhensomeonefeelsscared,impotent,butitalwaysworriesher.
Angerisoftenunpredictable,abarriertokeepingthingsincheck.
“Undercontrol,”thewomanrepeats,claspingherhandstogether.Hervoiceishigh,thin.“I’mnotsureyouhave.Peoplearescared.It’snotjusttheguests,it’sstafftoo.Iheardagroupofthemtalking,overthere.”Shejerksherarmintheirdirection.“Abouthowlongitwill
taketogetpeopleouttous.Iftheyworkhereandthey’rescared,howarewe,theguests,meanttofeel?”
ElinexchangesaglancewithFelisa.“I’mgoingtobriefeveryonefullyinafewminutes,”sherepliesevenly.
“We’reputtingclearprotocolsinplacetocontainthesituation.Thisevening,we’llbemovingeveryoneintoroomsonthelowerfloors,roomsthatareusuallyreservedforemployees.Membersofstaffwillbeusedassecurityinallofthepublicspaces.”
“Security?”
“Yes.Ineverycorridor.We’redoingeverythingwecantokeeppeoplesafe.”
There’swhatseemstobeaninterminablesilenceasthewomanabsorbsElin’swords.
Finally,hershouldersrelax.ToElin’srelief,shesays,
“I’lltellthem.”Shegesturesagaintothetablewhereherparentsaresitting.“ButIstillthinkyouneedtocommunicatemoreeffectively.Keepeveryoneinformedifanythingchanges.”
“Ofcourse.”
Elinwaitsforthewomantoleave,thentakesaseat.
“Sorry,”shemurmurs.
“It’sfine,”Felisareplies.“It’stobeexpected,isn’tit?
Peopleareworried.”
Elinnods,puttinghernotebookonthetable.“So,I’mtryingtogetasenseofAdele’slastfewdays,workoutwhatmighthaveprovokedtheattack.”
Sippingherglassofwater,Felisanods.“ShefinishedhershiftonFriday,wasn’tduebackinuntilTuesdayofnextweek.”
“AndyousawheronFriday,beforesheleft?”Elinscribblesfuriously.Herwritingisloose,ascrawl,butshecan’tdoanybetter.Thefatigueshefeltinthechangingroomisnowall-consuming,everymovementslow,lackluster,likewadingthroughmud.
Ineedtoeatsomething.
“Briefly.Shewashurrying,wantedtogetbacktohersonbeforeheleftwithhisfatherfortheweek.”
“They’renottogether?”
Felisashakesherhead.“It’snotarecentthing,though.Theywereneverreallytogether.Ithinktheytriedforawhile,forthesakeoftheboy,but…”
“Andhowdidsheseemtoyou?”
“Fine.Stressed,becauseshedidn’twanttobelate,but
—”Shebreaksoff.“Doyouthinksheevenmadeithome?”
“Idon’tknow.I’msurethepolicewillcheck.”
Privately,Elin’ssureshedidn’t.BecausesheknowsAdelewastiedup,Elin’shypothesizedthatshehadbeenheldsomewhereatthehotelornearbyuntilshewaskilled.
Felisa’shandclampsaroundherglass,knucklesturningwhitewiththepressure.“Whowoulddothis?Itdoesn’tmakesense.”
Elinpresseson.“WereyouawareofanyissuesAdelehad?Personally?Professionally?”
“No,butAdele’sSwiss.Iknowitsoundsstrange,buttherereallyisaSwiss…reserve.”Shegivesaweaksmile.“WhenIlivedinGeneva,ittooktwoyearsformyneighbortoprogressfrom‘Bonjour’to‘Bonjour,?ava?’”
“Felisahesitates,asifdebatingwhethertosaysomethingelse.“Itwasn’tonlythat;Adele,asaperson,shecouldbe…distant.”
“Inwhatway?”
“Shewasunusual,foroneofthehousekeepingteam.
Staffturnoverinjobslikethis,it’shigh.Lotsofforeignstaff.ThefactthatAdele’sSwiss,it’srare.Ithinkshelikedthejob,butIalwaysgotthefeelingthatshethoughtshewasbeyondit,sodidn’treallywanttoengage.Kepttoherself.”Felisasmiles.“Ithinkshewasprobablyright.
She’saclevergirl.Iwassurprisedshewasevendoingajoblikethis.”
“Sowhywasshe?”
“Iaskedheronce.Shesaidshedidn’thaveachoice.
Noqualifications,hadherlittleboytolookafter.”
Elinnods,mullingoverwhatFelisa’ssaid.
Something’snotrightaboutAdele’ssituation.
Somethingdoesn’tfit.
“Onemorething.IwantedtoaskyouaboutLaureStrehl.Areyouawareshe’smissing?”
“Yes.”Felisarestsherelbowsagainstthetable.“Doyouthink…thatwhoeverdidthistoAdele…”Shetrailsoff,swallowinghard.
“Wedon’tknow.That’swhyweneedtounderstandifthere’sanyconnectionbetweenthem.WouldyousaythatAdeleandLaurewerefriends?”
“Yes,”shereplies,somethingflickeringacrossherfacethatElincan’tdecipher.
Sheknowssomething,doesn’tshe?Knowssomethingandisn’tsureifsheshouldrepeatit.
“Weretheyclose?”Elinprobes.
Felisaaudiblyexhales.“Upuntilafewmonthsago,yes.Iusedtoalwaysseethemtogether,thenitstopped.Iassumeditwasjustadisagreement,thenafewweeksago,IwaswithAdele,andLaurewalkedrightpastherwithoutsayinghello.”Shefrowns.“Itwasstrange.
Adele’sface,afterward,herexpression…shelookedfrightened,that’stheonlywayIcandescribeit.”
“OfLaure?”
“Yes.Itdidn’tsurpriseme.Laure…Don’ttakethisthewrongway,butshecouldbeintense.Takesherselftooseriously.Atmeetings,she’stheonewhodoesn’tcrackasmile,writeseverytinydetaildown.”Shelowershervoice.“Cecile,themanager,she’sthesame.”Shefrowns.“Butthen,Ithinkthat’sforadifferentreason.
Shedoesn’thaveafamily,apartner,sosheputseverythingintothisplace.Toomuch,Ithink.”
Elinnods,turningFelisa’swordsoverinherhead,onethinginparticulartroublingher:thedisagreementbetweenLaureandAdele.
WhenshespeakstoCecile,sheneedstoaskherifshewasawareofit,ifotherpeoplehadpickeduponit.
Heronlyconcernisthatitwillconfusethingsfurther.
EachtimesomeonespeaksaboutLaure,thepictureElinhasofherinherheadshiftseversoslightly.Ithadstartedoffclear,butnowit’smuddied.
Impossibletoresolve.43
Noneofthestaffsawanything?”Lucastugsoffhisfleece,hangsitoverthebackofhischair.Rolled-upsleevesrevealtanned,sinewyforearms,twobatteredcottonbraceletsonhisrightwrist.Limegreen,blue.
“No.I’vespokenwitheveryone.Theywerehelpingwiththeevacuation,theremainingguestsinthelobby,gettingreadytoleave.Theyallhavean…”Elinhesitates,notwantingtousetheword“alibi.”“They’reallaccountedfor.”Everysingleone,shethinks,replayingtheconversationsinherhead.Allplausible,verifiablealibis.Thegueststoo.
Howisitpossible?
Reachingforhercoffee,sheswigs,hard.Thehot,bitterliquidscoursherthroat,butitfeelsgood,thecaffeinepunchingthroughthefoginherhead.
“Theychoseexactlytherightmoment.”Cecilerubsathernosewithafrayedtissue.Herfacelooksdrawn,hereyessunken.
Elinnods.“Nowwe’veestablishedthatnoonesawanything,weneedtocheckCCTV.Aretherecamerasforthepool,thesurroundingarea?”
“Yes.I’llspeaktothedirectorofsecurity.Itwon’ttakelong.”Cecilepauses,asifshe’sabouttosaysomethingelse,butchangeshermind.
Lucaswalkstowardthewindow.“Anythingelseyouneed,pleaseask.Whoeverdidthis,Iwantthemcaught,quickly.Whathappenedtoher…”Elinseeshisjawtwitch.Anabsoluterevulsion.
Tensionisradiatingoffhim.Half-moonsofdampmarkhisunderarms,hislowerback.He’sobviously
stressed,butdespitethat,Elinisabletopullthefinalpiecesofhimtogether.Whatshe’sread,glimpsed…it’sgenuine.
This,hisprivatespace,reflectsbothsidesofhim,thecontradictionsshe’spickeduponbefore—thebusinessmanandthelaid-backathlete.
Theroomisunderstated:palewalls,ahighlypolishedwoodendesk.Achromecoffeemachinesitsinthecorner.Aboveit,ashelfhousesasinglerowofbooks—
climbingandalpinisttitlesononeside,glossydesignandarchitectureontheother.
Artworktakesuptheright-handwall:old-fashionedanatomicaldrawingsoftheheartframedinwhite.
Precise,graphicetchings.
Hermindjumpstothearticlesheread—hischildhoodstayinthehospital.
Itallfits,butdespitethat,Elinfeelsaslightsenseofdiscordatthevisiblecontradiction.Inaway,he’dbeeasiertoexplainifoneofthesideswasn’treal.Thethoughtisdisconcerting.
Cecilefiddleswithheremptycoffeecup,runningherfingerovertherim.
“CanyoutellexactlywhenAdelewaskilled?”Thewordsspilloutfast,lacedwithpanic.“Sowecanunderstandifwhoeverdidthisisstillhere,orifit’spossibleitwassomeoneonthebuses.”
“Ican’tsaydefinitively,”Elinsaysevenly.“Weneedtowaitforthepostmortem.”
“Youmusthaveanidea.”Cecile’svoicepitcheshigher.
“Youmustknow,fromyourjob,whensomeonedied.”
“Cecile…”Walkingtowardher,Lucas’stoneissharp.
“What?”Cecile’svoicetipsintohysteria.“Shemust,mustn’tshe?Atleasthaveanidea?”
Lucaslooksathissister,lipsdrawnintoatightline.
He’sembarrassed,Elincantell,bythisshowofemotion.
“Please.”AhandonCecile’sarm.Anotherwarninglook.
“Wehavetobecalm.”
Elinnoticestheintimacyofthegesture,andalsotheslightcondescensioninhistone.Shecantellthatthisexchangeisafamiliarpatternofbehavior;they’reusedtotheseroles,howtheconversationwillplayout.
Lucas’sdemeanorremindsherofIsaac’sinmomentslikethis:deliberatelybenign,whichonlyeverservestoamplifythesituationratherthandefuseit.
“Calm?”Cecilelooksathim,chinlifted.“Lucas,oneofyourstaffhasbeenkilled.Inyourhotel.Iwouldn’tbecalmifIwereinyourposition,I’dbeterrified.They’reprobablyherenow,waitingtopickoffsomebodyelse.”
Elinclearsherthroat.“Look,wehavenoproofthatthekiller,iftheyareamongus,wantstohurtsomeoneelse.Wedon’tknowAdele’spersonalcircumstances.
Somethinglikethis,it’susuallydonebysomeoneclosetothevictim,withadefinitemotive.Partner.Friends.
Family.”
“ButwhataboutLaure?”Cecile’sfootistappingthefloor.Anerraticrhythm.“She’sstillmissing.WhoeverdidthistoAdelecouldhaveher,couldn’tthey?”
“She’sstillmissing?”Lucas’sfeaturestensebeforeherearrangesthemintoaneutralexpression.
Watchinghisreaction,Elin’scuriosityisimmediatelypiqued.“DoyouknowLaurewell?”
Lucassitsdown,shiftinguncomfortablyinhischair.
Heshufflessomepapersonhisdesk,asifhe’susingthetimetocomposehimself.
He’shidingsomething.
“AswellasIknowanymemberofstaff,”herepliesfinally.
Elindecidestocutstraighttothechase.“ThereasonI’maskingisbecausewe’vefoundsomepicturesofyouamongLaure’sthings.”
“Pictures?”Lucasrepeats,hisvoicehesitant.Hishandfindsthepenonhisdesk,andhestartstwistingitbetweenhisfingers.
“Yes.Photographs.Idon’tthinkyou’dhavebeenawaretheywerebeingtaken.Wouldyouhaveanyideawhyshe’dhavephotographslikethat?”
Lucasissilentforaminute,thenlooksupather,hisexpressionresigned.“LaureandI…wewereinvolved.”
“Arelationship?”Elin’sawareofthesuddenpullofherbreath,ashocksheshouldn’trightlybefeeling.Itwastheonlyrationalexplanationforthephotographs,butshe’dbeenhopingitwasn’tthecase.
“Iwouldn’tdescribeitasthat.Itwasn’tserious.”
Cecilegivesasmall,brittlelaugh.“Ididn’tthinkyou’dbesopredictable.”
Elinlooksather,curiousathertone.“Whenwasthis?”shesays,lookingbacktoLucas.
He’sstillturningthepenbetweenhisfingers.“Itwasjustafterweopened.Itwasstupid.Iknowbetterthantomessaroundwithstaff,butithappened.Therewasanevent,wehookedup….Look,IcarrieditonwhenIshouldn’thave.Weslepttogetherafewtimes,thenIendedit.Shewaspissedoff,but”—hedropsthepenwithaclatteragainstthedesk—“thatwasitasfarasIwasconcerned.I’mprettysureforhertoo.”
Justaftertheyopened.Elinturnshiswordsoverinherhead.ThatwaswhenLaurewaswithIsaac,soithadtobeanaffair.HermindshiftstoIsaac—whatshe’lltellhim,howhe’llreact.
“YousaidLaurewasannoyedwhenitended?”
“Yes.Shecametotheofficeafewweekslater,confrontedme.SaidI’dusedher,givenherthewrongidea.”Hisexpressioniscontrite.“Itwasamess,butIdidn’twanthertofeelawkward,havetogiveupherjoboverit,soIapologized,toldherIwassorryifI’dledheron.”
“Andthatwasit?Thelastcontactyouhad?”
“Apartfromwork,yes.”Lucas’sfacetightens.“Look,Idon’tthinkthatthis,whathappenedbetweenus…itcan’tbeconnectedtohergoingmissing.Itwasawhileago.She’sobviouslymovedon,withyourbrother.”
Sensinghisdiscomfort,shechangesthesubject.“TheotherthingIwanttoaskyouaboutisLaureandAdele.
BothAxelandFelisamentionedthattheywerefriends,butrecentlyhadfallenout.Wereyouawareofanyissuesthere?”
“No.”
SheturnstoCecile.“Andyou?”
“Nothing.”
“Andtherehaven’tbeenanyotherissueswiththehotel?Norecentconflictwiththestafforanyothercomplaints?”
Neitherreplies.Thesilencestretchesout,thinninguntilitbecomesawkward.
ElincatchesLucas’salmostimperceptibleglanceinCecile’sdirection.
Whataren’ttheytellingme?44
Thereissomething,”Lucasstarts.Reachingdown,heopensthedrawerbelowhisdesk.Hepullsoutapieceofpaperandslidesitacrossthedesktowardher.“Istartedgettingtheseafewmonthsago.”
Ilfautbonnemémoireaprèsqu’onamenti.
“Aliarshouldhaveagoodmemory,”Lucastranslatesaloud,hisvoiceshakingslightly.“Idismisseditatfirst,butnow,afterwhat’shappened…”
“Doyouknowwhatitrefersto?”Elinexaminesthenote,hermouthdry.Thewordsaretypedinalargefont,coveringmostofthepage.
Thisisathreat,isn’tit?There’snootherwayofreadingit.
“Ipresumedithadtodowiththehotel.Wehadahugenumberofcomplaintsbeforethebuildstarted.
Localsinitially,thenenvironmentalgroups.Itstartedsmall,thenitexplodedonline.Westartedgettingbiggergroupscoming.NotonlySwiss,butFrenchtoo.”
“Protestersforhire?”
Lucasnods.“Somethinglikethat.Itstartedtogetpersonal.”Helooksdownathishands,flushing.
“Vindictive.Itseemedtobemorethanthehotel.Anexcusetohate,causetrouble.”
“Andtheothers?”Elinprompts,stillstudyingthepaper.Thetypeisn’tparticularlyclear,crisp,whichimpliesaninkjetratherthanalaserprinter.Thatmeansitwasalmostcertainlydoneonaregularhomeprinter,sothechancesofworkingoutwhosentitareminimal.
It’llhavetowaitforthepolice.
“Ionlyhavethisone,I’msorry.”Hereachesintothedraweragain,pushesanotherpieceofpapertowardher.
“Therewasanotherone,thefirst,butIthrewitaway.
Thoughtitwasaone-off.Somethingaboutrevenge…
moreofthesame.”
Elinexaminesthepaper.
Chassezlenaturel,ilrevientaugalop.
Thistimeit’sCecilewhotranslates.“Chaseawaythenaturalanditreturnsatagallop.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Lucasrubshishandoverthebackofhishair.“IsupposetheexpressioninEnglishwouldbe…aleopardcan’tchangeitsspots.”
Elinnods.“Howdidyoureceivethem?”
“Theyweresentdirectlytome.”Behindhim,snowhitsthewindowinanangrysplatter,makingthemallturntolookattheglass.
“Andapartfromtheprotesters,youhavenoideawhomighthavesentthem?”
“No.”Lucaslooksgenuinelybewildered.Hegesturestotheletters.“Doyouthinkthesearelinkedtowhat’shappened?”
“It’stooearlytosay.”Elin’sstillworkingitthroughinhermind.
Iftheyarelinked—how?WhatcouldAdele’sdeathhavetodowiththis?
“DoyoumindifItakethem?”
Heshakeshishead,haircomingloosefrombehindhisear,brieflyconcealinghisfeatures.
Puttingthelettersinsideherbag,Elinstandsup.“Onefinalthing.Iwastoldyesterdayabouttheremainsofabodybeingrecoveredfromthemountain.”Shedeliberatelypauses,waitingfortheirreactions.
“Yes.”Lucasstiffens.“Butwedon’tyetknowwhoitis.
Fromwhatthepolicesaid,itdoesn’tsoundrecent.”
Thehairsonherarmsstanduponend.“Sotheydon’thaveanyideawhoitis?”Elinmakessurenottomention
whatshe’sheard.Shewantstoknowhowfarhe’lltakeit.
Thequestionhangsintheair.Lucashesitates,mouthopeningthenclosing.“No.”
Elinabsorbshiswords.WhywouldMargotknow,butnotLucas?Surelythepolicewouldhavetoldhim?
Hehastobelying.Thisishischildhoodfriendwho’sbeenfound,afriendhewasprofessionallyinvolvedwith,afriendsoclose,hisdisappearancederailedtheopeningofthehotel.
Whylie?Whatexactlyishetryingtohide?
???
Herphoneringsasshe’sleavingLucas’soffice.
“MissWarner,it’sBerndt.Areyoufreetotalk?”
“Yes,it’sfine.I’malone.”Elinwalksdownthecorridortowardthelifts.“Haveyoufoundsomething?”
Shecringesatthehesitationinhertone;it’sasifshe’squestioningherself.
What’swrongwithme?
Butsheknowswhattheansweris:Lucas’slie—it’sshakenher.Shecan’tgetherheadaroundwhatitmightmean,theimplications.
“Notexactly.”Hesoundstired.“We’vecompletedasearchonthenamesyou’veprovidedusingRIPOL,ourdatabase,butnothingofparticularinteresthascomeup,notforValais,inanycase.”
“Whatdoes‘particularinterest’mean?”Elinshiftsfromfoottofoot,confused:Ishereferringtobackgroundinformation?Anyactiveorclosedinvestigations?
“Ican’tsaymorebecauseofdataprotection,butsoyou’reaware,we’vefoundnothingthatmakesmethinkthatyouoranyoneelseisinanydangerfromsomeoneonsitecurrently.However”—there’sabriefpause—“Ihaveafurtherrequest.InSwitzerland,procedureforsearchingforpeopleonourdatabasesismorecomplex
thanintheUK.There’sacentraldatabase,butwecanonlyaccessitbycanton.”
“Bycanton?”Whatdoeshemean?Confused,sheflushes,herpalmsweatyaroundthephone.Shecanfeelself-doubtchippingawayather—anegative,tauntingvoiceinsideherhead.Amateur.OutofthegametoolongImpostor.
“Yes,”Berndtreplies.“Itmeanssomeonecouldhaveacriminalrecordinaneighboringcanton,orcounty,suchasVaud,butitwouldn’tshowhere,inthecantonofValais.”Hehesitates.Shecanhearaphoneringinginthebackground.“Icanmakearequestforeachcanton,butitmustbeforspecificinformationaboutapersonofinterest.”
Processingwhathe’ssaid,shestopsafewstepsbeforethelift.“SoIneedtoflagupanypeoplewhomightbesignificanttotheinquiryandthenyoucanrequestmoreinformation?”
“Yes,butsoyou’reaware,eachrequestneedstobeapprovedbytheprosecutor.I’lltrytohurryitthrough,butitmighttakealittletime.”
“Okay.AndLaure?TheCCTV?Phonerecords?”Elintriestokeeptheimpatiencefromhertone.Shedoesn’tlikethisfeelingofimpotence—notbeingtheoneincontrol,knowingexactlywhat’sgoingon.
“We’vecheckedtheCCTVforthestation.NoonematchingLaure’sdescriptiongotoffabusorboardedthefunicular,eitherlatethatnightoratanytimeduringthefollowingday.We’vecheckedlocaltaxifirms,too,andnoone’spickedherupfromthehotelinoveramonth.
We’restillwaitingonthephoneproviders.”
“Andthepsychologist?”
“We’veleftmessages.Itshouldn’ttakelong.”
“Okay,”Elinrepliesasconfidentlyasshecan,butpartofherfeelslikeshe’sfloundering.Atthemomentshedoesn’thaveanythingrelatingtoLaure’sdisappearanceorAdele’sdeath.
Noevidence.Noeyewitnesses.Nomotive.She’sinthedark.
Asshesaysgood-bye,atextcomesthroughfromWill,tellingherthatheandIsaacarehavingdinnerinthelounge.
Staringintospace,hervisionclouds,andclearer,moredefinedimagestakeitsplace.
ImagesofAdele.
Allshecanthinkaboutisthelookofhorrorinhereyes.Whatitmusthavefeltliketosinkbelowthatwaterandknowthatyouwerenevercomingbackup.45
LaureandLucas?”Isaac’seyesdarken.“Theyweretogether?”
“Yes.Alittlewhileafterthehotelopened.”
Shiftingpositioninherchair,Elinpicksupherfork,pushesasmallpieceofpotatointohermouth.Althoughit’sdinnertimeandsheshouldbehungry,she’shavingtoforceherselftoeat.Herappetiteisgone.
Elinsweepshergazearoundthelounge.Thefewremainingguestsarehuddledaroundtables,drinking,talking.They’renervous,shethinks,notingthebiggestures,theforced,too-loudlaughter.Sheknowsfromworkthatit’sacommonreaction:Pretendnothing’shappened.Ifwepretendhardenoughitjustmightbetrue.
Buttheillusionissoonshattered:sheclocksamemberofstaffstandingbythedoor,lookingaround.
Security,keepingwatchasshe’dadvised.
ReliefrelaxesIsaac’sfeatures.“Thatwaswhenwewereonabreak.Wewerearguing,stupidthings…”
Takingalongdrinkofhisbeer,hepusheshisplateaside.
It’sapastadish,untouched,thepale,creamysaucesittingstickyandcongealed.
Despitetheconfidenceinhiswords,Elinnoticesthevisibleswallow.He’sshakenbywhatI’vetoldhim.Hedidn’tknow.
“Abreak?”sherepeats,catchingWill’seye,unabletostopthepitopeningupinherstomach.Notquitethehappycoupleshe’dassumed.
Wouldheeverhavetoldmeaboutthebreakifthishadn’thappened?
It’simpossibletosayandthethoughtstings:therewasatimewhenshekneweverythingabouthim.
Exactlywhichtoycarwashisfavorite.Thepreciseshapeofthefragmentedbirthmarkbetweenhistoes.
HowmanyloadedspoonfulsofchocolateNesquikhelikedinhismilk.
Elinfeelsasudden,sharppangoflongingforwhatmighthavebeen:alife,connected.Theyusedtotalkaboutitaskids—buyinghousesinarow,boisterousfamilymeals,theirchildrenplayingtogether,beingfriends.
Butthatwasalongtimeago.Feelingacatchinherthroat,shehastoclearitwithasharpcough.Shereachesforherwaterandsipsit.
Isaacrubsathiseyelid.Theeczemahasspread.Asmallcontinent,reachingforhiseye.“Butwhatifthere’ssomethingmoretoit?”
“Inwhatway?”
“Thosepicturesshe’sgotofhim.That’snotnormal,isit?”Hedrumshisfingersonthetable,hisexpressiongrim.“Whatifsomethingwentonbetweenthemthatwedon’tknowabout?”
“Likewhat?”Willpullsthebreadbaskettowardhim,removesasliceofbrown,seededbaguette.
“Idon’tknow.Maybeitgotnasty,or…”
Elinclearsherthroat.“Isaac,wecan’tpresumeanything.Notyet.Jumpingtoconclusionsistheworstthingwecando.Wehavetosticktofacts.Adele’sbeenkilled,andLaure’smissing.That’sallweknow.”
“Isaac,mate,she’sright,”Willsays,tearingthebreadintopieces.“Don’tgothinkingtheworstyet.Notwhenyoudon’thavetheinformation.”
Elinlooksathim,smiles,gratefulforthebackup—
anotherthingWillexcelsat.Bridging.Smoothingthingsover.
“Christ,Ifeelsobloodyuseless.Findingthatwoman,likethat—”Isaac’svoicesplinters.“Elin,Laure’satrisk,isn’tshe?Everyminutewe’renotdoingsomething,there’severychanceshe…”
Sheimmediatelyfeelsthepressureofhiswords;aweight,pullingherdown.
“Whatifthepolicecan’tgetuptonight?Tomorrow?
You’vegottodosomething.Findher.”Helookstowardthewindow,attheheavysnowfallilluminatedbytheoutsidelights.“Lookatitoutthere.”
“Isaac,I’mdoingasmuchasIcan.I’mspeakingwiththepolice,butit’slimited,whatIcandowithoutafullteam.It’snotsafeto—”
Hecutsheroff.“WhatifthiswereWill?”Hejerkshisheadtowardhim.“You’dwanttofindhim,wouldn’tyou?
Knowingwhat’sjusthappened?”Hiseyesarenarrowed,fixedonher,likehe’stestingher.
Elinblinks,takenabackattheforceofhisreaction.
“LikeIsaid,wedon’tevenknowifthey’relinked.”
Isaacstaresather,hisexpressionincredulous.“Youreallythinkthatwhat’shappenedtoAdeleisaone-off?
Isn’tconnectedtoLaure?Itcan’tbeacoincidence.Theybothworkedhere,theywerefriends.”
Elinhesitatesbeforereplying.Sheagreeswithhim.
AfterspeakingtoLucas,she’sevenmoreconvincedthetwoareconnected.
“Look.I—”
“Whatisit?”Isaacleansoverthetable,eyesflashing.
“Youknowsomething,don’tyou?”
Elinrecoilsslightly,smellingbeeronhisbreath,thefaintsournessofsweat.Thelookinhiseye—itscaresher.
Remindsherofthemomentsjustbeforehe’dflip.Letloose.Throwthings,confetti-style,aroundtheroom.
Evennow,shecanrememberhermother’sexpressionwhenithappened—thebarelysuppressedflinch,thedisappointment,bizarrelynotatIsaacbutatherself,asthoughsheweresomehowtoblameforhisbehavior.
Afewmonthsaftertheirmotherdied,Elinfoundadustycardboardboxinhermother’sloft,stuffedfullofpop-psychologybooks,torn-outarticles,allonthesametheme:Howyourparentingstyleaffectsyourchildren.
Howtogetyourchildtoopenup.
Thediscoverymadeherindescribablysad:theirmotherhadchosentoblameherselfoverIsaac.Theultimateexcuseforaboygonewrong.
“Iwasjustabouttotellyou,”shesays,chasingthethoughtaway.“IspoketoAdele’sboss,Felisa.ShesaidthatAdeleandLaurehadfallenout.DidLaurementionanythingtoyouaboutit?”
Isaacshakeshishead,darkcurlsslippingacrosshisface.“No.AsfarasIknew,theywerestillfriends.”
Elinbitesdownonherlip,frustrated.Howisshegoingtobeabletofindoutwhat’sgoneonbetweenthem?Hermindhooksonanidea—Laure’slaptop.
Ithadn’tyieldedmuchonfirstlook,butshehadn’tbeenverythoroughasshewasn’treallyconvincedatthetimethatLaurewasactuallymissing.
“Let’stakeanotherlookatherlaptop.”SheturnstoIsaac.“Theremightbesomethingwedismissedthatmightberelevantinlightofwhatweknownow.”
Nodding,hestandsup.“I’llgetit.”
Oncehe’soutofearshot,Willlooksather.“Youreallythinkthere’llbesomethingonthere?”
“Idon’tknow,butit’sgottobeworthatry.I’mgoingtotakeanotherlookathersocialmedia,too,seeifI’vemissedanything.”
“Youknow,Ithinkallthis,it’smadeyourdecisionforyou,hasn’tit?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Goingbacktowork.Forsomeonewhowasn’tsure,youseemprettywelldecidednow.”Hisexpressionisserious.“You’vecomealive,Elin.Doingthis.”
“Theyaskedmetohelp.”
“Andyoucouldeasilyhavesaidno.Explained.”
Elinshrugs.“Maybe.”Shedoesn’tknowhowtoreplybecausehe’sright—somepartofherhascomealive,butsheknowsthere’sstillabigdifferencebetweenhelpinghereandgoingbacktowork.Herdecisionisn’tmadeyet.
ShethinksaboutAnna’se-mails.Thee-mailsshe’ssteadfastlyignored.
Leaningbackinherchair,Elinpicksupherphone,flickingagainthroughLaure’sInstagram.
Thistime,givenwhatshe’sfoundout,she’slookingforanyevidenceofLaurewithAdele.
Shestartsscrolling.There’snothing,tallyingwithFelisa’stheoryofafallingout.It’stwoorthreemonthsbackbeforeshefindsher,fittingwiththeideathattheissuebetweenthemwasfairlyrecent.
Thefirstimageofthemtogether:Laureinabar,dressedinaflimsy,strappytop,armlooselyslungaroundAdele’sbareshoulder.Thesecondisinadimlylitrestaurant,partofalargergroup.Someone’sstandingbackfromthetable,takingagroupshot.
Elinkeepsscrolling,goesfurtherback:overfourmonthsago.Oneimageinparticularcatcheshereye.Itwastakenhere,inthehotellounge.Sherecognizesthelarge,futuristicchandelierinthecenteroftheimage,theabstractsliversofglasscatchingthelight,bleachingouttheimageinplaces.
“Lookatthis.”SheholdsupthephonetoWill.
Laure’sintheforegroundwithaman.She’sholdingupaglassofpink-huedwinetothecamera,headthrownbackinlaughter.Theglassissmeared,dappledwithcondensation.Inthebackground,sittingatoneofthetables,Elincanmakeouttwopeople,headsbent,notmorethanafewinchesapart.
They’redeepinconversation,theirexpressionssomber.
Althoughthey’reoutoffocus,shecanstillmakeoutexactlywhotheyare.
AdeleandLucas.46
Theintimatebodylanguage,theirpostures—itlookslikemorethanpoliteconversation.
“AdeleandLucaskneweachothersocially,”
Willsaysslowly.
Elinfeelsacreepingsenseofunease:theydefinitelykneweachother,certainlymorethanLucashadimplied.
Couldthefallingouthavebeenoverhim?
Thethought,itsdepressingpredictability,disappointsher.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”Isaacasks.Hepeersoverhershoulder.Onceagain,shecatchesthebitterscentofbeeronhisbreath.
“Ifoundthis.”Shetiltsthescreenofthemobiletowardhim.“LucasandAdele,together.”
Isaacsitsdownbesideher.Grabbingthephonefromherhand,hepinchesthescreen,zoomingin.“Looksprettycozy,doesn’tit?”Hegivesabrittlelaugh,eyesignitingwithafamiliarintensity.“Maybehewasatitwithhertoo?”
“Wecan’tsaythat,”Elinreplies,hertonecarefullyneutral.
IsaaccontinuesflickingthroughLaure’sInstagram.
Thespeedofhismovements,theerraticgestures,theybotherElin.Shereachesforhishand.“Isaac,stop.Weweregoingtogothroughthelaptop.”
Heopenshismouth,abouttoprotest,thenclosesit.
Elinpullsthelaptoptowardher,flipsitopen.Thistimeshedecidestoworkmoremethodically,startingwiththedesktop,thefoldersstackedinneatrowsacrossthescreen.
Shestaresglassilyatthesheernumberofthem,thesimilaritiesinlabeling—date,names.Mostlooklikeworkfiles—Health&Safety,Trainings,Travel.Sheclicksintothemregardless.
Halfwaythroughthelistoffoldersshefindsonewithamoregenericname:Work.
Clickingonit,ratherthanaseriesoffiles,shefindsanotherfolderwiththesamename.Elin’sfingerhoversoverthefile,clicksagain.
Anotherfolder,butthistime,ityieldssomething.
Herpulseisracing.
Alistoffiles.
Shecantellrightawayfromthefilenamesthatthey’reencrypted.
Why?Whyencryptfilesonherpersonallaptop?
“Whathaveyoufound?”Willleansoverthetable.
“Someofthefilesonherdesktop,they’reencrypted.”
“Canyouopenthem?”Isaacpeersatthescreen.
“No,butIknowsomeonewhocan,anoldcolleague,Noah.”
TheheadoftheDigitalForensicsteam,NoahhadbeenakeypartofseveralbigcasesElinhadworkedon,firstasaDC,thenthelastcaseasaDS,afterherpromotion.
“I’llmessagehim,seeifhecandoitquickly.”
Reachingforherphone,shetypes:
Encryptedfiles…canyoudoyourthing?Caveat:needitfairlysoon.
Threelittledotsappearonthebottomleftofthescreen.He’sreplying.
Assumeit’snotanofficialrequest?
No,butanychance…?
There’sadelay.Shestaresdownatthescreen,wonderingifit’sanasktoofar:wouldhewanttohelpgiventheyhadn’tspokeninmonths?
Finally,areply:
Okay,Itrustyou,butcurious.Workingagain?Abandonedusforpasturesnew?
Longstory.Sendingtoyourpersonale-mailnow.
I’llseewhatIcando.
ElinforwardsthefilestoNoah,thenturnstoIsaac.
“Oncewehavethese—”Shepauses,noticingCecilewalkingtowardthem.Hershorthairistousled,hereyesred,theskinbelowthempuffy.Shelookstired.
“Sorrytodisturb,butthesecurityfootage,it’sready,ifyouwanttolook.”
ElinflashesIsaacanapologeticlook.“Doyoumind?”
Hiseyesnarrow,butherallies.“It’sfine.”
Standingup,ElinsqueezesWill’shand.“Seeyoulater,okay?”
Henods,smiles,buthisexpressionisuneasy.Hecastsaworriedlookaroundtheroom,towardtheopendoor.
Elinknowssheshouldprobablybefeelingthesame,butfollowingCecile,shefeelsherheartthudding.
Itisn’tfearcausingthereaction,butsomethingjustasprimal.
Excitement:asuddenboltofadrenaline.
Will’sright,abouthercomingalive.She’sforgottenthis—lifenotjusthappeningtoher,butbeingpartofit.
Changingthepathofsomething.Takingaction.47
Beforewegothroughthefootage”—Cecilegesturesatthetabletonthedesk—“IwantedtotalktoyouaboutLucas.Whathesaidearlier,aboutLaure,Idon’twantyoutogetthewrongidea.”ShelooksembarrassedasshecatchesElin’seye.
“Aboutwhat?”Cecile’sperfumeislingeringintheair:light,citrusy,surprisinglyfeminine.
“Whathappenedbetweenthem.”Ceciletucksaloosesectionofhairbehindherear.“Idon’tknowifyou’reaware,butLucas…he’smybrother.”
“Iguessed.Thenamewasabitofaclue.”
“Ofcourse.”Smiling,Cecilepullsherchairfromhersideofthedesk,movesituntilshe’snexttoElin.“Whathesaid,howitsounded,it’saveneerhehasup,awayofprotectinghimself.”Thewordstumbleout.“Lucashasn’thadaneasytimeofit.Hismarriage—itendedbadly.Hehasn’thadaproperrelationshipsince.Theseshort-termthings,they’rebecausehe’sscared.”
“Ofwhat?”
“Openinghimselfup.Beingvulnerable.”Ceciletoyswiththehemofhershirt.Herwordsarematter-of-fact,buttheemotionisobviousinhervoice.“Becausehewasinandoutofthehospitalasachild,otherpeople,ourparentsinparticular,treatedhimlikehewassomething…fragile.Ithinkhe’salwayshadthissensethathe’sgotsomethingtoprove.WhenOdette,hiswife,lefthim,thosefeelingsofinferiority…theyintensified.”
“Abreakupcanbedestabilizing,”Elinreplies,thinkingaboutherlastrelationshipbeforeWill,howabsolutelyithadthrownher.Madeherquestioneverything.
“Iwasthesameaftermydivorce.Youkeepgoingoverthingsinyourhead.Blamingyourself.”Cecile’seyesaredistant,glazed.“Ihadalltheseplans,likeLucas.
Children.Familylife…Noneofithappened.Ittakestimetomentallyreadjust.”
“IsupposewhathappenedwithDanielLemaitredidn’thelp,thefactthathewentmissingbeforethehotelevenopened.Itmusthavebeentough.”
“Itwas.Itputpressureonthings.Finances.PR.
Everything.Delayedthebuildbynearlyayear.”Shehesitates.“ButthestressforLucas,itwasn’tonlyfinancial.DanielandLucas,theywereclose.”
“Youknewhim,too,didn’tyou?”Elinprompts.
“NotaswellasLucas,butyes.Ourparentsweregoodfriends.Weusedtoskitogetheralmosteveryweekend,andwhenwegotolder,dinners,parties…”AlookElincan’tdeciphercrossesCecile’sfacebeforeshesmiles.
“ButhewasbetterfriendswithLucas.Hetendedtodominateanyfriendshipswehadasagroup.You’vegotabrother;youprobablyknowhowitis.”
Elinnods,thinkingaboutthesimilaritiesbetweenthem.Twostrongwomenstilldefinedbysiblingdynamics,fightingforoxygenagainstalphabrothers.
Cecilepicksupthetablet,givesashortlaugh.
“Anyway,Lucasprobablywouldn’tappreciatemyspeakingabouthisprivatelife.”Sheflushes,embarrassed.Elin’stouched.Notonlybyherprotectivenessofherbrother,butbyherawkwardness.
SomethingelseofherselfsherecognizesinCecile—thestruggletoverbalizedifficulttopics,toemote.
Cecileducksawayfromhergaze,andthere’saflurryofmovementasshetapsthescreenofthetablet,inputtingacode.“Oursecuritysystemisstateoftheart.
AcommercialIPsystem.Itmeansyoucanlivestreamtoanyofourdevices.”Theoverheadlightscatchthefaintsmearoffingerprintsalongthebottomofthescreen.
“Thishomescreenshowseachcamera,itsfeed.Allyoudoisselectone,thenfindtherelevanttimeslot.There’ssoundtoo.”
“Okay.”Elindropsherarmtothetable.“Youdothefirstone,showmehowit’sdone.”
“Wheredoyouwanttostart?”
“Whataboutthespa?Isthereoneoutside?”
Cecilegrimaces.“Thereis,butI’mnotsurehowgoodthepicture’sgoingtobewiththesteam,thestorm…”
Startingtoscroll,sheabruptlystops,selectingonefromfartherdownthescreen.“Here.Thisisitinrealtime.”
She’sright,Elinthinkswithdismay,lookingattheimage.Thecamerashowstheroughoutlineofthepoolarea,butthesteamandsnowscuddingpastthelensisobscuringmostofthescene.Thepicturehasaliquid,etherealfeel.
“It’snotideal,”Cecilesays,“butthepicturemightbebetterearlierintheday.Whenexactlyarewelookingfor?”
“EverythingfromthismorninguntilAxelfoundthebody.”
Cecilescrollsback,theimageremainingvisibleonthescreenassherewinds.
“Okay,backtoninea.m.”Butbeforeshecanfinishhersentence,thescreengoesblack,justbeforefivep.m.
“Theremustbeamistake,”shemurmurs.Frowning,sherepeatstheaction.“It’sblank.Theentiremorning,afternoon,it’sgone.”
“Areyousure?”ArippleofdisquietrollsthroughElin.
Ceciletriesagain,moreslowlythistime,buttheresultisthesame:thefootageisgone.ShecatchesElin’seye.
“Someone’swipedit.”
“Wipedit,ormadesureitneverfilmedinthefirstplace,”Elinsays,withthegut-propellingrealizationthatthisispartofaplan.
Itisn’tacoincidence,isit?
Someoneknewtheyhadtowipethissotheycouldn’tbeidentified.
They’reonestepahead,shethinks,lookingoutthewindowintothedarkness.Hertheory,thatthisisanorganizedkiller—it’sholdingup,andthatscaresher.
Elinmovesforwardinherchair.“Isitpossibletowipeitwithoutthesystemsendingnotifications?”
“It’spossible,I’msure.Mostthingscanbehacked,can’tthey?”
“Whohasaccesstothesystem?”
“Thesecuritydirector,afewstaffwhoworkunderhim…”
Allofwhomhavealibis,Elinthinks,disconcerted,mentallyrunningthroughhernotes.“Let’stryanothercamera.Isthereonefortheentrancetothespa?”
“Yes.It’sinthecorridor,Ithink.”Cecilejabsatthescreenagain,herhandsmakinganervy,panickedmovement.“Thisisit.”
Thecameraispositionedfacingstraightdownthecorridor.Allofitisinshot—polishedconcretefloor,thestarkwhiteofthewalls.
Thistime,Elinskimsthroughtherecording—slowlyrewindingfromthepresenttowardmidday.Butonceagain,justbeforefivep.m.,thescreengoesblack.
Thenextpieceofrecordedfootageisfromthedaybefore.Sittinginsilenceforamoment,aseedofanideaunfurlsinhermind.“CanIcheckthefootagefromanotherday?”
“Ofcourse.”
Elinscrollsbackward,easilyfindstherightday,theapproximatetime.Ittakesonlyafewminutesbeforeshefindsherselfinthefootage;walkingdownthecorridortowardthespatofindWillinthepool.
Continuingtoscroll,shetriestoworkitout:howlongdidshetakeinthere?
Five,tenminutesspeakingtoMargot?ThesamewithWill?
Sheworksthroughthefootageuntilsheleavesthespa,headingbackupthecorridortowardthelobby.
Scanningthescreen,sherealizesthatMargotwasright—
noonehadenteredthespauntilshecameout.Ifsomeonehadbeeninthechangingroomswithher,theymusthavegoneoutanotherway.
ElinturnstoCecile.“Isthereanotherwayintothespa?Throughthechangingrooms?”
“Yes.There’sadoorattheback.It’susedtoaccessthemaintenancearea,thegenerators,pumps.Itdoesopenoutintothechangingarea,butit’sonlyusedbymaintenancestaff.”Shehesitates.“Youneedtherightaccesspass.”
“DoesCCTVcoverthatdoor?”
Bitingherlip,Cecileflushesagain,heatchasingupherneck,cheeks.“There’sacamera,outside,ontheroofoppositethedoor.Thestaff…theydon’tknowit’sthere.”Shefalters.“Look,therearecamerasallover.
LucashadtheftsamongthestaffatoneofhishotelsinZurich.”
“Canyoufindthefeed?”Elininterrupts.Shedoesn’tcareaboutthemoralsofhiddencameras.Shesimplywantstoseethefootage.
“Onlyafewofushaveaccess,soit’sonadifferentsystem.”Takingthetablet,Cecilemovesoffthehomescreenandopensanotherone,tappinginapasscode.
ShehandsitbacktoElin.“Here.”
Elinalreadyknowstheroughtimewindowfromtheothercamera:itwasabouthalfpastthreewhenshefinishedspeakingtoWill.
Whenshefindstherighttime,shepressesplay.
Nothinghappensforthefirstfewminutes.Theimageisstatic,fixedonthedoor.Theonlymovementisfromthesnowdriftingpastthescreen.Anysoundsaremuffledbythewind.
Holdingherbreath,Elindrumsherfingersonthetable,willingherhunchtobecorrect.
Besideher,Cecileiswatchingthescreenintently.
Stillnomovement.
Elinexhalesheavily,frustrated.Whoeveritwas,theyhadtohaveusedthisdoortoaccessthechangingroom,surely?Unlessthey’dgoneinbeforeher…
“Isthere—”shestarts,thenfreezes.
Amovement.
Apersoninthebottomleftoftheframe.
Thefigureistall,wellbuilt,dressedinablackwaterproofcoat,hoodpulleduparoundtheface.They’rewearingdark,shapelesstrousers.
Elinfeelswinded.Shewasrightallalong.
Someonehadbeeninthere.Someonehadbeenwatchingme.
Shefocusesonthefigure;heorsheisclearlynotawareofthecamera.Notevenaglanceinitsdirection.
They’rewalkingpurposefullytowardthedoor.
Sowhoisit?Whowaswatchingme?
It’simpossibletotell.Unlessthefigureturns,shedoesn’tstandachanceofidentifyingthem.Theformlessclothes,thehood—it’stheperfectdisguise.Shecan’teventellifthey’remaleorfemale.
Staringatthescreen,shewatchesasthefigureputsakeyfobtotheelectronicpadonthedoor,startspushingitopen.
Turn,Elinwills,turn.
Then,asifthepersonhasheardher:thefigureglancesaround,towardthecamera,clearlylookingtoseeifanyonebehindiswatchingthementer.
Elin’slookingsointentlyatthescreen,hereyesstarttowater.Theimageblurs.Sheblinksonce,twice,butthepictureremainsthesame.
Shereachesoutahand,hitspause.Theimageisfreeze-framed.
Elinpinchesthescreen,spreadingherfingerswide.
Theimagezoomsin,thepicturequalitysoclearshecanalmostmakeouttheporesontheperson’sface.
Thebloodpoundsinherearswithadeafeningroar.
Sheknowswhoitis.Sheknowsexactlywhowaswatchingher.48
It’sLaure,”Elinsays,hermouthdry.“It’sdefinitelyher.”Clearingherthroat,sheturnstoCecile.“WhenIwasinthespayesterday,inthechangingroom,Ifeltsomeonewatchingme.Iheardoneofthecubicledoorsbeingopenedandclosed,butnoonecameout.Icheckedallthedoors….Noonewasthere.Nowitmakessense.Someonecouldhavecomethroughthissidedoor.”
Cecile’shandhoversoverthescreen.“Youthinkshewaswatchingyou?”
“Ifthere’snoCCTVinthechangingroom,Ican’tsaydefinitively,butwhyelsewouldshebegoinginthere?”
Elinscrollsforwardanotherfewminutes,herstomachfillingwithagnawingdread.
Assheexpects,it’sLaurewhoreemerges.
Theimageislikeanotherpunchtohergut.
AninstinctivesenseofreliefthatLaure’salive,unhurt,whichisimmediatelypuncturedbyanimmensehurt.Disappointment.
Why?Whywouldshedosomethinglikethat?
ThenElin’smindmakesthenextleap.“There’ssomethingelseIneedtocheck.Yesterday,someonepushedmeintotheplungepool.”
Cecile’sfacedarkens.“You’rethinkingit’sher?”
“Idon’tknow.”Elinlooksbackatthescreen.“Isthereacameranearthere?”
“Notofficially,butyes.It’sonthefencingtotheleft.”
Cecilefindsthefeed.
Thankstothemoistureonthelens,it’shardtomakeoutfaces,onlyfleetingglimpsesofbodies—seminaked
forms,armswrappedaroundthemselves.
Elincan’tseeeitherofthemainpools,onlytheplungepoolandasmallsectionofwoodenwalkwayaboveit.Forafewminutes,thefootageisstill:nomoremovement.
Thenagroupofpeopleappear;five,six,walkingoutofshotbacktotheindoorpool.
There’snosignofher.
Theimageonthescreenismotionlessagain—onlycloudsofsteampullingupinpocketsthroughtheair.
Twomoreminutes.
Elinfinallycomesintoview;walkingfromthebottomoftheframe,upthewoodenwalkway.Shewatchesherselfturnleft,herhairapalearrow,pointingdownthenapeofherneck.
Achillcomesoverher;itfeelsstrange,seeingherselflikethat,halfnaked,vulnerable.Inhermind,she’sasstrong,asphysicallyinfallible,asanyman,yetinthisimagesheseemsanythingbut.
Sheseesherselfstopbesidetheplungepool.Thecameraistoolowtocatchherhead;allshecanseeisasegmentedprofileofhertorso.
There’snosignofanyoneelse.Noonewalkingnearthepool.
Elinbitesherlipwithfrustration.Ican’tbewrong.
Surely…
Butthenshecatchesasuddenmovementbehindher.
Ashadowedfigureatherback.
Elinholdsherbreath.Shewantstoshouttoherself—
Move,turn,run!
Butthere’snothingshecandoapartfromwatchingthesceneplayout.
Shewatchesherselffallforward.Thoughitfeltimpossiblyquickatthetime,hereitfeelsalmosthideouslyslow.
Individualframesofmovement.
Sheflinchesassheseesherselfcrashintothepool,sendingwatersurgingintotheair.
It’sonlythenthatshehasaviewofwhopushedher;shefeelsasickeningdropinherstomach.
Laure.
Checkagain,shetellsherself.Shehastobesure.
Elinskipsbackthroughthefootage,thistimezoominginonthefigure.
She’swearingexactlythesameclothes;thesamehoodwiththefloppypeak.Thefaceisn’tasclearasitwasintheimagebythegeneratorroom,butshe’scertainit’sLaure.
GlancingatCecile,herhandshakingagainstthedesk,shesays,“It’sLaure.”Hermouthisthick,claggy.“Laurepushedme.”
Sheknowsthatthisisoneofthosemomentswhenthere’snogoingback.
Oneofthemomentswhentheknowledgeissopowerful,itsweepsawayeverythingelsethatcamebefore.
Elincan’tbelieveit—doesn’twanttobelieveit—butsheknowsit’strue.
ItwasLaurewatchingme.Laurewhopushedme.
Thethought—cold,disturbing—leadstoanother:thatLauremightnotbeavictimatall.Shemightbeinvolvedinthis.Thepredator.49
Thelifttotheirfloorshudderstoahalt,doorsslidingopen.
Elinwalksoutintothecorridor,legslikejelly.
Shecan’tthinkstraight—she’dimaginedeverythingbutthis:Laurewasn’tbeingheldbyAdele’skiller;Laurehadpushedher.Pushedherintothatpool.
Herthoughts,raw,questioning,keepcirclingbacktothesamepoint:Whypushme?WhycauseIsaacthepainofgoingmissingifitwasn’tforasinistermotive?
Thoughshewantstoignoreit,themostobviousconclusionisthatLaure’sinvolvedinthis.
Thatshe’scapableofkillingsomeone.
It’swhereeverything’spointing,isn’tit?Everythingshe’slearnedsofar,thisnewinformation…
Imagesflitthroughhermind:Laurestridingacrossthebeach,skimboardunderherarm.Laurereading,bottomlipstuckoutinconcentration.Lauredivingoffthecliffstepsintothesea.
It’simpossible,surely?
HasIsaacmissedthesigns?Laure’scolleagues,friends?
It’snotbeyondtherealmofpossibility.Elin’sthoughtslurchtoacasefromthreeyearsago:awomaninherforties,convictedofmurderingherex’snewpartner.
Abrutal,viciousstabbing:seventeentimesinherhead,neck,chest.Aneighborfoundherbleedingoutbesideherson’splayhouseinthegarden.
ThesuspecthadworkedinabankinExetersellingmortgages.Colleagues,friends,they’dalldescribedher
thesameway:Quiet.Unassuming.Kind.
Elinandtheteamfoundoutthatshe’dplannedthemurderforovertwoyears.TheDigitalForensicsteamduguppagesandpagesofresearchonherlaptopaboutmethodsofkillingsomeone,howtoavoiddetection.
Whathadchilledherthemostwasthefactthatnoonehadaclue:thekillerwasongoodtermswiththevictim,hadevenbeenonholidaywithherafewmonthsbefore.
Fromsippingsundownerstogethertoamurderincoldblood.
HavewemisjudgedLaureinthesameway?
AsElinopensthedoortotheirroom,hermindflipsbacktheotherway.
MaybeI’mjumpingtoconclusions.DoespushingherintotheplungepoolautomaticallymeanLaure’sinvolvedinAdele’sdeath?
Butstillthethoughtnags:Whyelsewouldshedoit?
Sittingdownatthedesk,Elinpullsouthernotebook.
Theonlywayshe’sgoingtogetthisclearinherheadisifshewritesitout.Withatentativehand,shenotesdownasummaryofwhatshe’slearnedsofar.
Laure’smentalhealthissues,thearticle,thepsychologist’scard.
RelationshipwithLucas/photographsofhim.
Laure’ssecondphone/repeatedphonecallstounknownnumber.
TheangryphonecallthenightLaurewentmissing.
Laure’sargumentwithAdele.
PossibleblackmailletterstoLucas—linkedinsomeway?
Elinabsorbsthewords,unabletoavoidtheobviouspicturehernotesbuild:everythinghere,itallpointstosomeoneunpredictable.Unstable.
Butisitenoughtoconcludethatshe’scapableofbeinginvolvedinkillingsomeone?Anevenbiggerquestionisgnawingawayather:Why?
WhywouldLaurewanttohurtAdele?
Elin’sthoughtsmovetohowAdelewaskilled;thesandbag,themask,thepresenceoftheglassbox,thefingers.Allofitextreme,noneofitnecessarytokillher,whichsurelyimplieditwasn’trandom.Itmeantsomething,perhapssomethingdeeplypersonal.
Butwhat?SheknowsLaureandAdelehadargued—
wasitpossiblethattheargument,whatevercausedit,wasenoughofamotiveforLauretokillher?
She’snotsure.
Italsodoesn’texplainDanielLemaitre’sbody.Arethetwodeathsconnected,andifso,how?
Herphonestartstoring.Whenshepullsitfromherpocket,shecanseethatit’sNoah.
Thefiles.50
WhenIsaidquick,”Elinsays,surprisedtofindherhandshakingaroundthephone,“Ididn’texpect…especiallythislate—”Shechecksherwatch.Tenpasteight.
“Ialwaysworklate.Youknowthat.”
“Iusedto,”shesays.Itfeelsstrange,speakingtoNoahagain,andsheknowsthatit’sherfault,thisawkwardness.Duringherbreakshehasn’tseenanyoftheteaminperson,onlyexchangedmessages.She’sblockedthemout,compartmentalizedthem.
Noahlaughs.Afamiliarsound:deep,slightlyhusky.Afewbeatspass.“Warner,I’vemissedyourdulcettones.”
“Same,”Elinreplieswithasharp,suddentugofhomesickness.No,shecorrects,nothomesickness—
worksickness.Howeverhardshe’sdeniedittoWill,she’smissedthis:notjustcommunicating,butthehustleandbustleoftheoffice,theincidentroom.Meetings.
Interviews.Livingbeyondthespaceinherhead.
“Yousure?”Noahreplies.“FromwhatI’veheardyou’reprettyhappyinretirement.”Thewordsarelight,butElinnoticestheintakeofbreath,themovefromjokeytoserious.
“It’snoteasy,Noah.”Hervoicewobbles.“Decidingwhethertocomeback.Idon’twanttoletpeopledown.”
“Butyouknowwe’reallbehindyou,right?Withwhathappened.Noneofusthinksitwasyourfault.Youactedoninstinct.Gut.We’dalldothesame.”
Alongpause.
Elinrealizesherfootistappingthefloor,herhandstilltremblingaroundthephone.Herthroatfeelsthicksuddenly,andshehastoforceherselftospeak.“Iknow.”
Noahmovestheconversationon.“Sothefiles…I’llletyoutakeaproperlook,butthey’remainlycopiesofe-mails,someletters.I’vealreadysentthemthrough.”
“Theencryptionwasn’tuptomuch,then?”
“Nope.Prettybasic.Asixteen-bitkey.Infact,I’dsaydemeaningforsomeoneofmyexpertise.”
Shelaughs.“Noah,look,thanksfordoingthisonsuchshortnotice.”
“I’musedtoit.You’vealwaysbeenprettydemanding.”
“Anyrewardrequired?”
“Onlycurryonyourreturn.”
“Deal.”Asshesaysgood-bye,Elin’salreadyopeningherlaptop.
Thefirstofthefileshe’ssentisaWorddocument,informationcopiedandpastedinbothFrenchandEnglish.Anarticleprintedout,similartowhatshefoundinLaure’sdraweryesterday.
TheheadlineisinFrench,Dépressionpsychotique
Easilytranslatable:psychoticdepression.HereyesflitovertheEnglishtext:
Readaboutpsychoticdepression,asevereformofdepressionthatcausespeopletoexperiencetheusualsymptomsofdepression,plusdelusionsandhallucinations.
Elinchurnsitover:DidthisrefertoLaure?Wassheconcerned,awareofsomethingwrong,adeclineinhermentalstate?Perhapsresearchingit?
ThenextfileisanotherWorddocument.Onthefirstpageisarowoftext.ThewordsareinFrench,butElinrecognizesitstraightaway.
It’stheanonymousletterthatwassenttoLucas.Elinfalters,eyesfallingawayfromthescreen.
ItwasLaurewhosenttheletters.
It’sonethinghypothesizing,butthisisproof.ProofthatLaurehadsomekindofdisturbingpreoccupationwithLucasCaron.
Shepullshereyesbackuptothescreen,opensanotherfile.
Again,aWorddocument;itspansseveralpagesandcontainscopiesofe-mails.
They’rebetweenLaureandawomannamedClaire.
Noaddressesareshown,justthebodyofthemessages.
Elinscansthrough:
Laure,
Asrequested,pleasefindattacheddraftcopyofarticle.It’simportantthattheinformationisn’ttraceablebacktome.
Claire
AHOTELBUILTONCORRUPTION?
ThefirstfoundationsarebeingdugfortheextensiverenovationprogramandexpansionofwhatwasSanatoriumduPlumachitintoaluxuryhotelnamedLeSommet.
LucasCaron,great-grandsonoftheoriginalowner,haspouredmillionsintotherenovation.
Aresultofnineyearsofplanning,whencomplete,theresortwillincorporateanewconferencecenteranda7,000sqmAlpinespa.
Yettherenovationhasbeendoggedwithissues;theoriginalplansattractedfierceoppositionfromenvironmentalgroups
concernedaboutdevelopmentinwhatisanationalpark.LawsonbuildinginsuchareasareespeciallystrictinSwitzerlandandformaloppositionhascontinuedforyears.
Anonlinecampaignandpetitionsawmorethan20,000signatures,andenvironmentalgroupshavestagedseveralprotestson-site.
LocaldoctorPierreDelanehasopposedtheprojectfromthestart.“Itdoesn’tfitwiththe
landscape.Thefa?adeistoomodern,abrutalchangetotheoriginalbuilding.”
Mostsignificantly,therehavebeenfearsregardingthesafetyofguests.StefanSchmid,amountainguide,warnedmunicipalofficialsin2013thattheareaabovethehotel’smainaccessroadwassusceptibletoavalanches.
Examiningthearea,geologyprofessorsfromtheUniversityofLausannenotedafactthattheoriginalbuilderneverflagged:thehotel’smainaccessroadislocatedatthebaseofacanyon,inthedirectpathofanaturalchannelforsnowfallingfromMontBellaLui.
TheseconcernshaveledtoaccusationsofbriberyandquestionsarisingoverhowMr.
Caronwasabletoobtainthezoningvarianceforthehotelexpansiongivenallofthesafetyconcerns,butthechargesweredismissedduetolackofevidence.
Anotherlocalresidentcommented,“There’sthestenchofcorruptionsurroundingthisproject.”
Elinstaresatthescreen,foottappingthefloor.
This“Claire”isclearlyajournalist,butwhywouldLaurewantcopiesofthisarticle?Thefactthatthejournalistmentionsit’sadraft,andisaskingLauretoensurethattheinformationisn’ttraceablebacktoher,impliesthatthearticlewasneverpublished.SowhywoulditbepastedintoaWorddocumentandencrypted?
Shiftinginherseat,shereadson.Anothere-mail.
Laure,
Furtherfiles&research.Sourcesdidn’twanttobeidentified,butwebelievedthemtobereliable.
Claire
Thefirstattachmentcontainsashorterarticle,referringtoaprotestheldatthesite,thesecondacopyofaplanningdocument,afilefromthelocalcouncil.
HerFrenchisn’tperfect,butitlookslikealistoftheobjectionstotheplanningnotice.
Elinracksherbrainforanexplanation.
WhatwasLaureplanningondoingwiththisinformation?
HermindflickerstothelettersLucasreceived.Isthiswhatthey’rereferringto?Weretheletterssomekindofblackmail?
Thearticleistroubling—theaccusationsofbribery,corruption.It’sthefirstshe’sheardofitandthatbothersher.Somethinglikethat…surelyitwouldhaveappearedwhenshe’dsearchedforinformationaboutLucasonline?
ButnotinEnglish,shethinks.Anyarticles—theyweremorelikelytobeinFrench.UsingGoogleTranslate,shesearchesusingthespecificFrenchterms:LeSommet.Lacorruption.
Nothingcomesup.Notasinglearticle.Shewasright
—eitherthearticlewasneveronline,sothere’snorecordofit,oritwasneverpublished.Whateverthestorywas,it’sbeensquashed.
Butit’sonemorethinglinkingLauretothehotel,toLucasCaron.
DidLaurehavesomekindofobsession?DiditconnecttoAdele’sdeath?
Eitherway,howeverharditistoacknowledge,Laure’sbecomeapersonofinterest.Elin’sgoingtohavetotellBerndtthatshethinksLaure’sinvolved.51
LaureStrehl?”Berndtrepeats.“Thewomanwhoismissing?”
“Yes.”Elinfiddleswiththecornerofhernotebook,almostwillinghimtomishearsoshedoesn’thavetobetheonetodothis;toimplicateLaure.
“Okay,letmeputyouonspeakerphone—therestofthetaskforceishere.We’reworkinglate.”Shecanhearbuttonsbeingpushed,astatickyfizzandhumasitswitchestospeakerphone.“Canyouhearmeokay?”
“Yes,it’sfine.”Deepbreaths,shetellsherself,leaningbackinherchair.Howeverhard,howeverwrongitseems,Ihavetodothis.Findoutthetruth.
“Elin,I’dlikeyoutoexplainwhatyouneed”—Berndtspeaksslowly,deliberately—“whetheryouhaveanyparticularquestionsrelatingtoMissStrehlyou’dlikeustolookat.”
ShefeelshercheeksgrowhotattheofficialwayhesaysLaure’sname.
Clearingherthroat,sheforcesthewordsout.“ThemainpointI’dliketoclarifyiswhetherthere’sanythinginherrecordsthatmightberelevanttothecase.”
“That’sfine,butfirst,wehaveanupdaterelatingtothepsychologist.”There’sashuffleofpaper.“Laurewasn’tapatientwithher.There’snorecordofhereverhavingvisitedthere.”
Elinprocesseshiswords.Ifthat’sthecase,whyhavethebusinesscardinherdrawer?Thearticleonthelaptop?Shemullsitover:it’spossibleLauredecidedtogotoanothertherapist,orsimplyhadn’tgotaroundtocalling.
“Sonext,Ithinkweshouldlookinherrecords.
Criminal,clinical.”
Mutedvoicessoundoutinthebackground.
“Elin,it’stheprosecutor,HugoTapparel.Thereisacertainthresholdofevidencethatisrequiredforaccessingthedatabasetofindoutthisinformation.”Hisvoicehasacoolauthoritythatunsettlesher.“Couldyoupleasedetailwhatyouhave,sowecandecideifitmeetsthatthreshold?”
Fumblingoverherwords,Elinlistswhatshe’sfound,acutelyself-conscious,awarethatshe’sprobablyoversteppedthemarkinwhatshe’sdoneandsaidtogettheinformationaboutLaure.Butwhatchoicedoesshehave?
There’ssilence,andit’sBerndtwhospeaksfirst.“Soletmebeclear…theencryptedfilesimplyLaure’sinvolvementintheattemptedblackmailofLucasCaron,andalsocontaine-mailstoajournalistrelatingtoanassociatedexposé.”
“Yes,I—”
She’sinterruptedbytheprosecutor:“Elin,canyouconfirmwhichofficerinstructedyoutosearchthelaptop?Idon’tbelievethatthiswasanorderfromthetaskforce…”Hetrailsoff,theimplicationclear:hethinksshe’sgonetoofar.
Shestiffens.Surelytheyweremakingthisharderthanitneededtobe.Whyputupbarriers?
Berndtcutsacrosshim,histonemoreemollient.“IthinktofollowuponHugo’spoint,pleasesendusthefiles.We’llletyouknowwhatwefind.”
“Thankyou.”Elinhangsup,takesalongdrinkofwaterfromtheglassbesideher.Everystepofthisfeelslikeshe’spullingteeth.Butsheknowsthatnoneofthatcomparestowhatshehastodonext:TellIsaacaboutLaure.Hersuspicions.
Elinrubsathereyes;theyfeelgritty,sore,herlidsheavy.Leaningbackinherchair,sheclosesthem.She
canhearthewindoutside,thebluntforceofitpoundingthebuilding.
Thensomethingelse:avoice,echoing.Soclearit’slikeit’sintheroomwithher.
Isaac’svoice
Urgent,shouting:
“We’vegottogethimout.We’vegottogethimout.”
Thenascream:primal,raw,alow,gutturalkeening.
Thesoundofwater,franticsplashing.
Hervisionnarrowstoatinypoint:Sam.TheedgeofhisT-shirtbeingtuggedbythewater.
Theshirtnolongerlookslikeapartofhim,butsomethingother,likeSamhadalreadygone,hadnorighttolayclaimtoit.52
Elinopenshereyeswithastart,herbodyjerkingawaketoaloudknockingatthedoor.
HadIdriftedoff?
Glancingatthetimeonherphone,shecanseethatshehas:she’sbeenasleepforoverhalfanhour.
Theknockingcomesagain:loudernow,moreinsistent.
Will?No.Whywouldheknock?Hehadakey.
“Elin?”
Walkingtothedoor,sheopensittofindMargotstandingoutsideindarkjeans,ashapeless,boat-neckwhitetop.Onceagain,Elin’sstruckbyherself-consciousness,herstoopedposture,theroundedcurveofhershoulders.
Noone’severtoldhertobeproudofherheight,shethinkswithapangofsympathy,imaginingtheteasingatschool—thename-callingandmockery.
“Iseverythingokay?”
“Iwaswonderingifyou’veheardanythingaboutLaure.”Margotsmoothsherhairback.It’sgreasy,sittingflatagainstherscalp,severalofthestarredgripsholdingittightlyinplace.Itmakesherfeatureslookhawkish.
Morepronounced.
Elinhesitates,butrealizeshermistake.
Margotstepsback,herexpressionfrozen.“Oh,mygod.”Hervoiceishigh.“She’sdead,isn’tshe?”
“No.”Elinstrugglestogetthewordsout,hertonguestucktotheroofofhermouth.“She’snot,she’sstillmissing.Wedon’tknowanythingyet.”
Margot’seyesarebright,glittering.“Ithought…”
Hervoicecracks.“She’sbeengonesolong.”
“Comein.”Elin’stoneissoft.“Wecan’ttalkhere.”
Margotfollowsherintotheroom,herfacewhiteandpinched.Shechecksthescreenofherphonebeforeturningitbetweenherfingers.
Thereareafewmomentsofsilence.
Elintakesadeepbreath,looksthroughthewindow.
Moresnow,climbinguptheglass.It’snearlytothetopoftheframe.
Whensheturnsback,Margot’slookingather.“I’msorryaboutthat.”
“It’sfine.Iknowthingsarescary.It’seasytojumptoconclusions.”
Margotnods,stillturningthephoneinherhand.
Anotherheavysilence.
WhenMargotfinallyputsthephonedownonthedesk,themovementdoesn’tstop;shestartspickingathernails.Tinyflakesofgrayvarnishflickertothefloor.
Something’sup,Elinthinks,watchingher.NotjustLaure.Somethingelse.
“Margot.Issomethingwrong?”
Apause,thenshenods.“Something’sbeenonmymind.Before,whenwespoke,Iwasn’tentirelyhonest.”
“Aboutwhat?”
“LaureandIsaac’srelationship.Afterwhat’shappenedtoAdele,Ithinkthere’ssomethingyoushouldknow.”Herfootistappingthefloor.“ThereasonIdidn’twanttomentionitbeforeisbecauseofwhoitinvolves.”
HergazeslipspastElin,thenbackagain.
“Goon,”Elinsaysslowly.
“LucasCaron.HeandLaure,they…hadsomething,awhileback.”
“Iknow.Lucastoldme.”
Margotlooksatherinsurprise.“Didhesayanythingaboutitstartingupagain?”
“No.Hesaiditwasover.Ashort-termthingwhensheandIsaacwereonabreak.Youdon’tthinkitwas?”
“Idon’t.Isawthemafewweeksagointhecorridortothespa.OntheCCTV.Laurewascomingtomeetmeforlunch.”
“Andsomethinghappened?”Elinprompts.
“Yes.ItlookedlikeLaurewasgoingtowalkpasthim,buthestoppedher,grabbedherarm.”Margotleansagainstthedesk,hermouthtwitching.“Herface—itwaslikeshewasscared.Shewastryingtogetaway,buthewouldn’tlether.”
“Whathappenedthen?”
“Theyspokeforafewmoreminutes,thenLucaswalkedoff.”
Elintriestokeepherexpressionneutral,buthermindisracing.
Lucashadn’tsaidanythingaboutthis.
“DidLaurecarryonintothespa?”
“Yes,butitwasstrange.Shedidn’tmentionwhathadhappened.That’swhatmademethinksomethingmighthavestartedupagain—thatshedidn’twanttotellmebecausethistimeshewaswithIsaac,engaged…”
“Didsheseemworried,though?”Elinprobes.
“Anxious?”
“Notparticularly.”Margotbitesdownonherlip.“IwishI’dsaidsomething,askedheraboutit.”
“Butshewasopenwithyouabouttheirrelationshipinitially?”
“Thefirsttime,yes,butshewassinglethen,hadsplitfromIsaac.Tobehonest,atfirstIthoughtitwasareboundthing,butwhenitended,Iwasn’tsosure.Shewasreallyupset.”Margotshrugs,thegestureatoddswiththeintensityinhereyes.“Butthat’sreasonable,
right?Ifsomeonetossesyouasidelikeyou’rerubbish.
Noonelikesthat,dothey?Feelingused.”
“Isthatwhatshesaidhappened?”Elinsays,awareofherunevenbreathing.Allthis,whatitimplied…shedidn’tlikeit.
“Yes.Lucasmoreorlessdroppedher.Ithinkshehadtheimpressionitwassomethingmorethanitwas,youknow?”
Elinnods,thinkingaboutwhatthismeans.ItlendsweighttoherpictureofLucas:he’saliar.DenyingthatheknewthebodyonthemountainwasDaniel,thephotographofhimwithAdeleimplyingheknewherbetterthanhe’dsaid,andnowthis.
Inasituationlikethis,thatbothersher—he’dexplicitlytoldherthathehadn’treallybeenincontactwithLauresincethefling.
Whylie?
ButElinknowstheanswer:he’donlylieifhe’sgotsomethingtohide.53
ElinfindsIsaacsittingwithWillintheloungeatasmalltablebythewindow.
They’renottalking.Headbent,Will’slookingdownathisphone,andIsaac’sstaringoutthroughtheglassintothedarkness.
Pullingoutachair,shetakesaseatbetweenthem.
Herheartisthumping.Whatshe’sabouttodo—it’shorrible.She’sneverbeenanygoodatdeliveringbadnews,softeningtheblow.Herwordsalwayscomeoutclumsy,wrong.
Willlooksup,hisexpressionstony.“You’vebeengoneawhile.It’slate,Elin.Halfpastnine.”
“Notthatlong.”
“Imessagedyou,wentbacktotheroom.Whenyouweren’tthere,IcamebackandfoundIsaac.”Histoneisaccusing,unusuallyjudgmental.“Thoughthemightneedsomecompany.”
“Imusthavejustmissedyou,”shereplies,ignoringhiscomment.“IwentthroughtheCCTVfootagewithCecile,andthenIwentbacktotheroomandspoketoNoah.Hesenttheencryptedfiles.”
“Soquickly?”Isaaclooksupforthefirsttime.
“Yes.”Haltingly,shetellsthemwhatshe’sdiscovered.
Whenshefinishestalking,she’sacutelyawareofIsaac’sgazefixedonher.Unblinking.
There’sanawful,loadedsilence.
Elincan’tmeethiseye.Instead,sheglancesaroundtheroomattheotheroccupiedtables.Onegroupeating;another,agroupofstaff,playingcards.
Finally,Isaacspeaks,leaningacrossthetable,forearmspressedtothewood.“AreyoutryingtosayyouthinkLaure’sinvolvedinthis?Areyououtofyourmind?”
Thesharpedgetohisvoicemakesherfalter.“Well,she’snotlockedup,isshe?Beingheldsomewhere,likeyouthought.WeknowfromtheCCTVfootagethatshe’sbeenherethewholetime.Ifshehas,whyhasn’tshebeenintouch?Letyouknowshe’sokay?”
Isaacstiffens.“Idon’tknow,buttherehastobeanotherexplanation,doesn’tthere?”
Severalbeatspass.Shecanheartherapidpullofhisbreath.
Elinhesitates,strugglingwithwhatshe’sabouttosaynext.“DidLaurespeaktoyoumuchaboutherdepression?”
“Bitsandpieces.”Isaac’sexpressionisclosed.
Defensive.
“Laure’slaptop,theencryptedfiles…therewassomethingonthereaboutpsychoticdepression.”Shefumblesoverherwords.“It’swhenthedepressiongetssosevere,itcanresultinpsychoticepisodes.”
Heflushes;hisfaceisgrowingangry,livid.
“Didyouknow?”
“No.”Hisvoiceisclipped.“Shenevertoldme.”
Elinreachesout,putsahandonhisarm,buthepullsaway.“Isaac,shemightnothavewantedto.Mightnothaveknownhowyou’dtakeit…”
“HowI’dtakeit?Elin,we’reengaged.”Heclencheshisfist.“Itdoesn’tmakesense,theselies…notnow.”
“Butitwon’t,that’sthepoint.Ifyou’reexperiencingoneoftheseepisodes,youlosecontactwithreality.Falseperceptions,falsebeliefs,theycanleadtoparanoid,delusionalbehavior.”
Isaacshakeshishead,eyesnarrowingtoslits.“Allthis,”hesaysquietly.“You’retryingtoteemeup,aren’t
you?Youreallythinkshe’sgotsomethingtodowithwhat’shappened.”
Shecanfeelherfacegrowinghot.“Wedon’tknowforcertain,notyet,Ijustwantedto—”
“No.You’rediggingawayatthewrongthing,sometheory,whenweshouldbeouttherelookingforher.Sheisn’tinvolved,Elin.Iknowsheisn’t.”Staringdownathishands,hepusheshisknucklestogether.“LookatwhathappenedtoAdele.YouthinkLaurecouldbecapableofthat?”Hebitesdownonhislip.“Christ,Elin.Shewasyourfriend.”
Willgivesheraworriedglance,hisfootnudginghersbeneaththetable.Hewantshertostop,shecantell,butshecan’t.Isaachastoconfrontthis.IfLaure’sinvolved,heneedstobeaware.
“Isaac,noone’ssayinganythingdefinitively,butIthinkyoushouldbeprepared.Laure’slied.Repeatedly.”
Heshakeshishead.“It’snotaseasyasthat,isit,Elin?
Wealllie.That’swhatpeopledo.Theunpalatablebits,theuglybits,thebitsthatmakeyoulookbad.Lookatyou—you’venotbeenhonest,haveyou?Aboutwhat’sgoingonwithyourlife,thisbreakfromwork.”Hetenses.
“Youhaven’teventoldLucasandCecileyou’renotactuallyworkingatthemoment,haveyou?”
Elintakesabreath,abouttospeak,butnowordscomeout.Shecan’tsaywhyshehasn’ttoldthem.It’stoocomplextoteaseapart,eveninherownhead.
Atangleofreasons.Areflex,arefusaltoadmit,eventoherself,thatshe’snolongeradetective,mightneverbeoneagain,and,mostembarrassinglyofall:pride.
Wantingtostillbeseenassomeoneimportant.
Isaaclooksather,somethingtriumphantinhisgaze.
“Itdoesn’tmeanyou’vedonesomethingbad.”
Bracingherhandsagainstthetable,Elinfeelsitsnap:aninvisiblethreadthat’sbeenpulledtautinsideherforsolong.“Fine.I’lltellthem.Isthatwhatyouwant?Formetospilleverydetail?”
“No.”Isaac’svoiceishard.“Notifyoudon’twantto.
AllIwantisforyoutounderstandthatnobody’sperfect.
Everyone’sgotflaws.Evenyou.Laure,she’sprobablyscrewedup,donesomestupidbloodythings,butitdoesn’tmeanshe’sinvolvedinkillingsomeone.”
“Iknowthat,but—”
“Butwhat?”Isaacstandsup,scrapingbackhischair.
Hischeeksareblotchy.“Haveyouheardyourself,Elin?
You’relikeMum,blinderson.Youthinkthattheworld’sblackandwhite,thatthere’sthisbloodyperfectanswerforeverything.JustbecauseLaure’sdoneonething,itdoesn’tautomaticallyleadtoanother.Thingsaremessy,therearen’talwaysexplanations.”
“I’veneversaidthat.”Hervoicesoundsthick,muffled.
She’sawarethatshe’ssweating,theskinunderherarmspricklingwithheat.
“Iknowyouhaven’tsaidit,butwe’veallfeltit.”HeturnstoWill.“Don’ttellmeyouhaven’t?Haven’tfeltherdisapproval.”
Sheblinks,takenabackbythevitriolinhiswords.
“Someone’sgottosayit,Elin.WhydoyouthinkIhaven’tbeenintouch?It’sbecauseit’sexhaustingbeingaroundyou.Youwanteverythingdoneexactlyright,alltheducksinarow.Itmakesmesad.That’soneofthereasonswhyIleft,whyIleftMumtoo.”
“Isaac,please—”
“No,it’strue.ThisismeanttobeaboutfindingLaure,butit’sbecomesomethingelseentirely.”Hiseyesflash.
“Iknewfromtheminuteyoucameoutherethatthiswasn’tjustgoingtobesomefuntrip.Youhadsomepointtoprove.”
Shebristles.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“You’vealwaysbeenlikethis.Alwaysonthis…
mission.”
“Mission?”
“Yes.Tosavepeople.Bethehero.Overandoveragain.This,yourjob,it’sthesamepattern.Everytime.”
Willstands,putsahandonIsaac’sarm,hisjawtensed.“Look,mate,don’tyouthinkyoushouldstop?
Everyone’stired…”
Isaacjerkshishandaway.“No.Sheneedstoknow.”
Elin’sneckstartstoburn,hotcoilsofangerpullingupinsideher.
What’swrongwithhim?Can’thesee?
Theonlyreasonshe’slikethisisbecauseofwhathappenedtoSam.
Becauseofwhathedid.
“Isaac,”shestarts,hervoicetremulous,“nomatterwhatyousay,answers…theyareimportant.Thetruthmatters.Howcanyoumoveonwithoutit?LookatwhathappenedtoSam.Mymindisonloopbecauseofit.
Goingoverthatdayagainandagain,andthat’sbecausewedon’thavetheanswers.Wedon’tknowwhathappened.”
Isaacfreezes,araggedtrailofredcreepinguphischeeks.Swallowinghard,heopenshismouthtospeakandthenclosesitagain.
Aweightysilencestretchesoutbetweenthem,tellinghereverythingthatsheneedstoknow.
Elincanfeelherhandjigglinginherlap.“Youdon’twanttotalkaboutit?”
Hestudiesthefloor,refusingtomeethergaze.
“Comeon,Isaac.Iwanttoknowwhatyou’vegottosay.You’vespentyearsavoidingtalkingaboutit.Iwantanswers.”
“Elin,stop.”Willreachesout,placinghishandonhers.
Isaacdragshisgazeuptomeethers,hiseyescloudedwithemotion.
Guilt,Elinthinks,lookingathim.He’sriddledwithit.
Isaacturnsaway.“I’mgoingtobed.Idon’twanttodothishere.Notnow.”Hestillwon’tmeethergaze.
“That’sright,”shesaysashewalksaway.“Nowwho’stheonedoingtherunning?”
Afterwatchinghimleave,theysitinsilence.Hisgoinglikethat…itfeelslikeaslap.Likehe’sdeceivingheralloveragain.
Willisstaringather,astrangeexpressiononhisface.
“Shallwegobacktotheroominaminute?Getsomerest?Ithinkyou’retired.”
“Tired?I’mnot—”
“Well,itseemslikeittome.Whatyousaid,itwastoofull-on…”Trailingoff,heshakeshishead.
Elintakesinthescenearoundher;thesmallgroupofstaffstillplayingcardsatthenexttable,thesnowsteadilyfallingoutside.It’salltoomuch,toobusy.Herheadfeelslikeit’sgoingtoexplode.
“What?”shesaysfinally.“Whatwereyouabouttosay?”
Will’sfingersaretappingthetable.“Howyoustartedallthat,howyoutoldhim,Idon’tknowifitwastherightway—”
“Therightway?”sheinterrupts.“Thereisn’tanotherway.Heneededtoknow,Will,whatLaure’sdone.”
Butassoonasshesaysthewords,sheknowshe’sright.Shehandledthatbadly,didn’tshe?Wentintoohard.PushedIsaacunnecessarily.
Ahorrible,unwelcomethoughtslidesintohermind:Wasitinsomewaydeliberate?HowIhaddeliveredit?
WassomesubconsciouspartofherpunishinghiminsomewaybecauseofSam?
“Notjustthat,”Willadds.“Confrontinghimlikethat,now,aboutSam.Itwasasteptoofarafterwhatyou’dsaidaboutLaure.”Hisjawtwitches.“Youknow,Ican’thelpthinkingaboutwhatIsaacsaid.”
“Whichbit?”Elinforcesalaugh.“Hesaidalot.”Shepullsthebottleofwateronthetabletowardher,andmakesashowofpouringherselfaglass.
“Abouttheobsessionwithgettinganswers.Beingthehero.”Helooksather.“Doyouthinkthat’swhatyou’redoingnow,withthiscase?Tryingtoprovesomething?”
“Towhom?”
“Yourself.”Heflushes.“You’retryingtoprovesomethingtoyourself.Becauseyoucouldn’tsaveSam,you’retryingtosaveeveryoneelse.Exorcisingghosts.”
Elinstaresathim,thebloodpoundinginherears.
“Youthinkthat’sallthisisabout?ThatIdon’tcarewhat’shappenedtoAdele,toLaure?”Shetakesalargegulpofwater,solargeshestrugglestoswallowit.
“AllIknowisthatbythrowingyourselfintothis,theredoesn’tseemtoberoomforanyoneelse.Theirfeelings.”
Theflushinhisfacegrowsangrier.“What’shappeninghere,likeI’vesaidbefore,itdoesn’tmakesenseforyoutobesoinvolved.You’vegottothinkaboutotherpeople,too—theeffectyourdecisionshave.”
Elindoesn’treply.Notbecauseshedoesn’twantto,butbecauseshedoesn’thavetheanswer.
Will’sprobablyright,butshedoesn’tknowhowtostop.
AllsheknowsisthateversinceSamdied,she’sfeltlikeshe’sbeenlookingforsomething.Likeshe’srunning,tryingtofindthefinishline,buttheendisalwaysjustoutofreach.54
DayFour
Elin’swokenbytheshrillbeepofamessagenotification.Squintingintotheinkydarknessoftheroom,shepicksuptheluminousglowcomingfromherphoneonthebedsidetable.
Thetime,inbig,boldnumerals:6:02a.m.Reachingacrossforit,herhandslidespast,findsnothingbutair.
Shetriesagain,herheadthrobbingwitharoaring,statickyfizz.
Thereasonisobvious:lackofsleep.Itwasafterthreebythetimeshedroppedoff.She’dfeltwired—herbrainstillchurningoverwhatshe’dfoundoutaboutLaure,theargumentswithIsaacandWill.
Rubbinghereyes,shelooksatthescreen.There’samessagefromanunknownnumber.Openingit,thefullmessageresolves:
Iwanttoexplain.Pleasemeetmeinthepenthouse.9a.m.There’saseparateliftsoyouwon’tbeseen.Don’ttellanyoneorbringanyone.I’msorry.Laure
Laure.
Herbreathcatchesinherthroat.Thishastobeherotherphone,surely?Elinleansoverthesideofthebedanddragsherbagtowardher.Bringingitupontothecovers,shepullsoutthemobilephonebill,checksitagainstthenumberonthemessage.
Itis:it’sLaure’ssecondphone.
ButitwasswitchedoffwhenIsaactriedit.Shemusthaveturneditonagain.
Elinstaresatthescreen,hereyespullingeachwordapartbeforeputtingthembacktogether.
Twophrasescometothefore:Iwanttoexplain.I’msorry.
Sheworksthroughitinhermind.Explain:thatinherentlyimpliesshehassomethingtoexplain.Theapology,theinference—thesame.
Acoldbeadofconfirmationinherchest:Laurereallyisinvolvedinthis.
There’snodoubtnow.
Lyingbackagainstthepillow,Elintriestopiecethingstogether—facts,supposition—butshe’sagitated,twitchy.
Herbrainisn’tworkinglikeitshould.
Shedragsherselfoutofbed,pacingtowardthewindow.
Hermindischurning,everytwistandturnofthoughtcomingbacktothesameconclusion:Shehastwooptions.
ThefirstisthatshetellsCecileandLucas,andgoestomeetLaurewithbackup.Theotheristhatshegoesonherown—slipsoutandmeetsLaureone-on-one.
Neitheroptionisideal.
Withthefirst,sherisksscaringLaureoff,perhapscompellinghertodosomethingelse.IfLaureisbeinggenuine,shemightseeElinbringingsomeoneelseasabetrayal,proofthatElindoesn’ttrusther.Ifshe’sinthegripofsomekindofdelusion,alreadyfeelinginsomewaywronged,thenthiscouldbedangerous.
Theotheroption,oneshe’sfindinghardtoconsider,isthatthisissomekindoftrap.Theriskisthere,isn’tit?
Impossibletoignore.Laurepushedher,afterall.Triedtoscareher.
Butsurely,ifshe’dwantedtohurther,she’dhavedoneitthen,atthespa?
Brainflip-floppingbetweenthedifferentscenarios,Elinkeepspacing.Outside,thewindistuggingatthesnow,teasingitthiswayandthat.It’snowlaidunevenlyacrosstheterraceinrandom,windblownpiles.
SheknowssheshouldwakeWill,gethispointofview,butaftertheirlastconversation,sheknowswhathisanswerwillbe:
Leaveitalone.Don’tgonearit.
Hereyestracethesmallpeaksofsnowbythewindow.
Amemoryrisesup:Laure’sletters.
ThelettersLauresenther,arrivingeveryweekafterSamdied.Lettersreachingout—fullofsympathyatfirst,thenfun.Anecdotesaboutschool,boys,hermother,Coralie.TryingtodrawElinout,reconnect.
LettersthatElinchosetoignorebecauseshewasjealous,couldn’tcopewiththefactthatLaurehadn’tbeendealtthesameshittyhandasshehad.
Sheblinks,eyessmarting.Shehastomeether,doesn’tshe?Giveherthebenefitofthedoubt.
Thistime,shehastolisten.55
It’s8:48a.m.Elinrereadsthenameetchedontheglassplateonthewall.SuitePlaineMorte.Ithastobethisroom—fromthehotelwebsite,sheknowsit’stheonlypenthouseinthehotel.
Butasshelooksthroughtheglassdoor,it’sclearthatthesuiteitselfisn’tontheothersideofit.Instead,there’sanothersmallcorridorleadingtoasetofliftdoorsonthefarleft-handside.Laurewasright:thesuitehasitsownaccesscorridoraswellasitsownlift.
Assheputsherhanduptothedoor,herphonepulsesinhersidepocket.Relievedshe’sputitonvibratemode,Elinpullsitout,scansthescreen.
Laure?
No:adifferentnumber.Berndt.
RIPOLsearchshowswedohaveintelligenceonLaureStrehl—
referencecantonofVaud.SeekingpermissiontosharedetailwithyouASAP.
Intelligence?Whatdidthatmean?Elinwondersifsheshouldcallhimback.Shelooksdownatthescreenagain.
It’s8:50.Shedoesn’thavetime.It’llhavetowait.
Puttingthephonebackinherpocket,sheslipsthroughthedoor.
She’sbeginningtofeelnervous;she’swalkingtoofast.
Despiteherthinsweater,shecanfeeltheprickleofsweatbetweenhershoulderblades.
Thecorridorspaceisunnerving,oneofthefewinthehotelthatdoesn’tfeatureglass.Instead,thewallsareacream-coloredmarble,pinkishveinsdancingacrossthesurface.
Despitetheprivacythemarblegives,itmakesthespacefeelcompact.Suffocating.
Halfwaytothelift,shenoticessomething:small,squarepicturesliningthewalls.
They’resketches,framedinblack—amessytangleofloose,inkedlines.Ittakesamomentforhereyestoresolvetheconfusionofshapes,butwhentheyfinallydo,Elinstepsback.
People,shethinks,ahandcominguptohermouth.
Partsofpeople:face,leg,knee.
Theeffectisbrutal.Theylooklikeimagesofamputation.Dismemberment.
Asshewalkspastthem,thesilenceisexcruciating;she’sawareofeverysoundshe’smaking.
Everybreath.Everyfootstep.
HowwillIjustifymypresenceifIrunintosomeone?
WhatshouldIsay?Thenthere’stheCCTV.Whatifsomeoneseesmegoingup?Cecile,orLucas?
Avastmirrormakesuptheendwall.Elincan’tavoidseeingherselfapproach—limphair,jeanshangingbaggyoverherlegs.Sam’snecklacehugsthebaseofherthroat,echoingthelineofhersweater.Thescaraboveherupperlipcatchestheoverheadlight,drawingafaint,silverylinefromhermouthtohernose.
Afewstepson.She’snearlyattheliftthatmustgodirectlyuptothesuite.
Fromthecornerofhereye,shenoticesamovementinthemirror—aflickerofshadow.
Elinfreezes,convincedshecanseeasilhouette,butwhenshelooksback,it’sgone.Sheknowsit’sonlyareflection—adistortionoftheoverheadlights,reverberatingglimpsesofherownmovement,butitdoesn’tstopthecoldjagoffearinherchest.
AmImaddoingthisalone?Takingtherisk?
Walkingthefinalfewstepstothelift,shetakesadeepbreath,reprimandsherself:Don’tloseitnow.I’mabouttogetanswers.
???
fewmomentslater,ElinstepsoutoftheliftintotheAentranceofthepenthouse.Hereyesgrazethelargerspacebeyond:livingarea,fireplace,hugeglasswindows.
Shechecksherwatch.It’s8:52a.m.Eightminutesearly.
IsLaureherealready?
Elinglancesaround.Shecan’tseeanyone,butshecan’truleoutthatLauremightalreadybelyinginwait,makingsurethatElinhasn’tbroughtanyonewithher.
Walkingfartherin,shestops.She’snotsurewhatshewasexpecting,butitwasn’tthisscale.Theviews.Glasswrapstheentirespace,revealingexactlyhowmuchsnowhadfallen—thelandscapenowaperfect,pristinewhite,everylandmarksmothered.
Afterputtingherbagdownbythesofa,Elinmovesaround,gettingherbearings.Thelivinganddiningareaofthesuiteisopenplan,butdividedintoareas.Onherfarright,asmallkitchen,andopposite,anotherseatingarea.Acorridorleadsofftotheright,whichshe’sguessingiswherethebedroomsare.
Themainlivingspace,whereshe’sstanding,housesafireplaceandthreevastarchitecturalsofassetaroundacoffeetable.
Adiningroomispositionedslightlylower,downseveralsteps.Alargeoaktableisthecenterpiece,ahugeartworkdominatingtheright-handwall.It’soneofthosestrange,dismemberedimagesagain—vividbluesthroughtoblacksegmentsoflimb.
Everything’ssimple,almostabruptinitsstarkness,withnoneoftheusualostentationfoundinsuiteslikethese.There’snoblingyornamentation:kitschyfabrics,gold-plating,hugevasesfilledwithflowers.Instead,thelinesareclean,thecolorsmuted,tasteful.
Theluxuryisinthefinish,thedetail—themarblewalls,statementleatherchair,variousexpensive-looking
piecesoffurniture,thevastwhitesheepskincoveringthefloor.
Elinstops,pullingherselfupsharply.Don’tgetdistracted.
Laurecouldbehere,inoneoftheotherrooms.
Keepinghervoicelow,shecallsout,“Laure?”
Shestandsperfectlystill,butthere’snoreturncall:onlysilence,herownvoiceechoingbackinherhead.
Elinwalkstowardthecorridoronherright,everysenseonhighalertformovementorsound.Thefirstroomsheentersisalibrary-cum-gamesroom;thesecond,opposite,isasnugden.Terraceswrapeachspace.
Sheswiftlysurveyseachroom,butthere’snosignanyone’shere.Everythingisneat,untouched.
Despitethat,asshewalkstowardwhatmustbethebedrooms,hertopisnowdampfromsweat,thefabricchafinguncomfortablyagainstthefleshofherback.
Shecouldstillbeheresomewhere.Hiding.
Elincautiouslymakesherwayintothefirstbedroom.
Themaster,shethinks,takinginthelargebedjuttingoutfromthewall,theprivatepoolontheterrace,thehottub.
Noone’sthere.
Scanningtheotherthreebedroomsandfindingthemempty,shewalksbacktothelivingspace,aknotted,pulsingtensioninherlimbs.Allshewantsistogetthisoverwith.
Shepeersdownatherwatchagain:8:57.Threeminutesleft.
It’sthenshehearsanoise:ascuffed,scrapingsound,likesomething’sbeingshoved,shiftedsomehow.
Elinturnsaround,herownbreathloudinherears.Inthewindowssheglimpsesherreflectionandsomethingelse.
Asilhouette?
Justlikeinthepool’schangingroom,shehastheunmistakablesensethatsomeone’swatchingher,eyescrawlingoverher.
Withamountingsenseofpanic,shescanstheroomagain.
Nothing.
Anotherlookatherwatch:twominutes.Timeisdragging,painfullyslowly.
Finally,asound.
Somethingmorefamiliar:themetallicwhirrofthelift,quicklyswallowedbytheshuffleofthedoorsastheypart.Feelingherbreathingrateincrease,sheclampsherelbowstoherribs:anautomatic,defensivegesture.
Keepcalm.Deepbreaths.Don’tpanic.
Theliftdoorsarefullyopennow,butnoonestepsout.
It’sempty.
Allshecanhearisthedull,mechanicalhumoftheliftasitsettlesintoposition.
Elinfalters,hereyespullingdownward.Somethingthere,onthefloor.
Shefeelsherlegssoften,thenbuckle.56
It’sLaure.She’sdead.
Thewordsrollaboutinsideherhead,arealizationthat’sbeingbattedbackandforth,backandforth,hermindnotwantingtotakeitin,absorbit.
Theliftismakingnoises,horriblenoises.Thedoors,sensingherpresence,arerepeatedlyopeningandclosing,almostintimewiththepulsebeatinginherhead.
Amechanicalhorror,reflectingthesceneinfrontofher.
It’sasiftheliftitselfhasinflictedthedamage,thedoorsasincisors,chewingherup,spittingherbackout.
Laure’sslumpedintheleft-handcornerofthelift,headtiltedsideways,totheright,atanunnaturalangle,darkhairspillingoverherface.
She’swearingamask.
ThesameblackrubbermaskAdelewore.It’sconcealingherface,herfeatures,butElincantellit’sher.
Thehair,theleanframe.Thesamepumpsshewaswearingtheotherday.BloodissoakinghergrayT-shirt,concentratedaroundtheneck.
Elin’sgazetracksdownward.
Justbelowthemask,there’sadeepincisioninLaure’sneck.Itlookslikeit’sbeencutfrombehind;herheadpulledback,theknifedrawnacrossitfromlefttoright.
Herthroatslit,likeananimal.
Elinstepsforwardtoexamineit.Thewoundisdeeperontheleft,trailingofftowardtheright.Itstartsbelowtheear,runningobliquelydownward,straightacrossthemidlineoftheneck.
Someoneright-handed.
Mostlikely,thecarotidarteryandthejugularveinhadbeencut.Thelossofbloodwouldhavebeenhuge.Fatal,butenoughtimeforLauretorealizewhatwasgoingon,tofeeltheblood,herlife,pumpingoutofher.
Elinswallowshard,feelsbilerisingupthebackofherthroat.
Howcouldsomeonedosomethinglikethis?
Despitetheobvioustrauma,withatremblinghandElinbringsherfingerstotheothersideofLaure’sneck,feelsforapulse.
Thereisn’tone:herskiniscool.She’sbeendeadalittlewhile,butnotlong.There’snostiffening,nosignsofrigor.
Herheadstartstospinassheabsorbstheimplication:whoeverkilledhercan’tbefaraway,canthey?
Breathe,shetellsherself.Breathe.
Elinforcesherselftoturn,focusonthewoodenchairbesidethelift.Detail:thehollowedcurveofthebackrest,theloopingpatternofthewoodgrain.Trackingitwithhereyes,shegulpsinair,breathingthroughtheadrenaline,waitingfortheswimmingofherheadtosubside.
Asherbreathingreturnstonormal,shelooksback.
Everycellinherbodyiswillingthisnottobereal,forthistobesometwistedprojectionofherimagination.
Butit’snot:Laure’sbody,theinhumanbrutality,they’rereal.
Elinknowsthatthistime,shecan’tletfeargetthebetterofher.Sheneedstolookproperly,getthecrucialfirstimpressions.
Buttheliftdoorsarestillmoving,pulsingbackwardandforwardasshemovesbetweenthesensors.Sheneedssomethingheavytowedgethemopen.
Franticallyscanningthespaceoutsidethelift,hereyesalightonthechair.Shetakesit,weighsitinher
hands.It’ssolid:it’lldothejob.Sheplacesitinthedoorwayagainsttheleft-handside.Thedoorsstopmoving.
Steppingbackinsidethelift,ElinsquatsdownbesideLaure’sbody.
Shetiltsherheadsideways,lookingatLaure’shands.
Partsofherfingershavebeenremoved:theforefingerofherrighthand,theindex.Shecan’tseetheleft,notwithoutmovingthebody.
Itlookslikethey’vebeenseveredwithasharpinstrument:pliers,orshearsofsometype.UnlikeAdele’samputations,there’sbloodaroundthewounds,streakedupthebackofherhand.
HergazemovesupwardtothebloodsoakingLaure’sshirt.Alotofblood,butnotenough…
Elinlooksaroundthelift.Apartfromtransferfromthebody,asmearacrossthewall,it’sclean—nothingonthefloor,nospatteronthewallsorceiling.
Thisisn’twhereshewaskilled.
Laure’sbodyhasbeenmovedfromtheprimaryscene.
PlacedintheliftonlyminutesafterElinhadtakenit.
Whoeverkilledherhadpushedthebuttonforthisfloor,thenquicklyleftthelift.
Asshestandsbackup,herheadisspinning—notfromrevulsion,butbecauseofherownnaivete,inadequacy.
Allmytheories,myideas,werewrong.Laurewaseithertryingtowarnmeorthiswasatrapsetbythekiller.
Pullingherphonefromherpocket,shetapsoutamessagetoWill.
FoundLaureinpenthousesuite.She’s
Herhandisshaking,slidingoverherscreen,thejerkingmovementspellingoutanunintelligibleword.
Shetakesadeepbreath,composingherself,thendeletesseverallettersbeforecontinuing:She’sdead.
Pressingsend,shestepsoutofthelift.
Thistime,herheelstrikessomething.Thesound—ahollowknock,theslightjolt—pullshersideways.Elinstumbles,grabbingatthewallforbalance.Assherightsherself,sheinspectsthefloortoseewhatherfoothit.
Aglassbox.
Asuddenstaboftrepidation,butit’snotthecontentsoftheboxcatchingheroffguard,it’stherealizationthatitwasn’tthereafewminutesago.
Whensheproppedthedoortotheliftopen,thefloorwasclear.
Thatmeantonlyonething.ThekillerhadbeeninthesuitewhileshewasexaminingLaure’sbody.Onlyafewstepsbehindher.
Somehowthekillerhadgottenintothepenthouseandplacedtheboxthere.
It’sthenshehearsanoise:somethingstrange,unfamiliar.Notabreath,butmoreofawhistle,thenaheavy,laboredpullofair.
Elinwhirlsaround,andglimpsessomeonebesideher.
Shecan’ttellwhoitisbecausethefiguredoesn’thaveaface.Allshecanseeisthemask.57
Elinblinks,fearspikingthebaseofherstomach.
Herfirst,dizzyimpressionisthatshe’simaginingit—somehallucinationtriggeredbytheshockoffindingLaure’sbody—butthesoundcomingfromthemaskflipsthatthoughtonitshead.
Thedistortedbreathingismagnified,grotesque.
Shefreezes,thoughtsspiralingthroughhermind:aboutwhatmightcomenext;thehorrificinjuriesinflictedonLaureandAdele.
Whatwouldtheydotome?
Thehorrible,luridworkingsofherbrainparalyzeher.
Shetriestomoveherlimbsintoadefensiveposition,butit’slikeshe’swadingthroughmud.Everymotionisthick,gluey.
It’sonlywhenadrenalinestartstokickinthatherbodydoessomethingdefinitive:asuddenjerk,herrightlegkickingup,out.
Shecandothis,can’tshe?She’stired,yes,butshe’sstrong—herbodyisinshape.She’sprimed.
Butit’stoolate.
Herattackerisstronger.Faster.Andtheyhavethebenefitofknowingwhatthey’regoingtodonext.
Aplan.
Thefiguregrabsher,turnshersoherbackistothem.
Herrightwristisrippedbackward,rotateduntilherarmiswrenchedbehindherback.Ahandisclampedoverhermouth,herneckyankedbackward.
Withasidewaysglance,Elinglimpsesthemask—it’sonlyinchesfromherface.Heighteneddetail:microtears
intherubber,finewhitestreaks.
It’snowthatshefeelsanabsolutesenseofterrorsetin—somethingsoprimalshe’sonlyeverfeltitoncebefore:theHaylercase,withhim,thatday,inthewater.
Thememorymakesherangry,givesherasuddenspikeofenergy.
Diggingherheelsintothewoodenfloor,shewrenchesherselfforward,leftlegkickingback,jabbingherattackerinthethigh.
Itseemstowork:theirgripslackens.Elinsensesahesitation.
Then:adistantsound—thethudofadoorslamming.
Someone’scoming.
Will?
Allatonce,theyletgo,pushingherback,away.
Elinfalls,herheadslamminghardagainstthefloor,theimpactpulsingthroughherbody.Shecriesout.Thepainisexcruciating;it’sviolentenoughtomakehervisioncloud,whitestarsflickeringagainsttheblackness.
Withinseconds,shefeelshandsonherface,fingersclutching,grindinghercheekintothewoodenfloor.Thisclose,shecansmellthem:sweat,somethingsoapymixedwithsomethingelse.Somethingfamiliarshecan’tquitegrasp.
Anobjectgrazeshercheek.It’srough,plasticky.
Themask.
Panicked,shereachesupherhandtotrytopushitaway,butinsteadshejustclawsatair.
Anotherthud.Shehearshernamebeingcalled.
Will.
Silence:alongerhesitation.Thehandonherfaceisroughlyremoved.
Elinwaits,staringinrevulsionattheglassboxonlyafewfeetaway,thebraceletscatchingthespotlight
overhead.Herbodyistensedforwhatever’scomingnext,butallshefeelsismovement:arushofair.
Herattackerisnolongerholdingherdown.
Tippingherheadsideways,shetriestoseeifthemaskedpersonisstillthere,butthere’snoone.
Heavyfootsteps,running.Dullrhythmicthuds.
They’vegone.
Elindrawsherselfuptoasittingposition.Herheadandbackarestillthrobbingfromthefall.Herheartbeatisthickinherchest,thesoundreverberatinginherears.
Tearsprickhereyes—shamefultears,hernaivetetauntingheronceagain.
HowcouldIhavegotthissowrong?HowcouldIhaveimaginedthatLaurecouldhavebeenresponsible?
Thisisn’tacrimeofpassion,ofrevengeoveraflinggonewrong.
It’sbiggerthanLaure.Somethingfarbigger,andnowshe’sbacktosquareone58
You’resureyou’renotinpain?”Leaningforward,Willtakesherhandinhis.Hisforeheadisdampwithsweat,hiseyesthickwithemotion.
“I’mfine.Whoeveritwas…theydidn’thaveachancetodo…”Shestops,reconfiguresthesentence.“Theymusthaveheardyoucoming.”Butherwordssoundshaky,untethered.Shecan’tstophereyesfromflickeringacrosstheroom.DespiteWill’spresence,thevastspacestillseemsfullofdanger.
Hidingplaceseverywhere.
Itisn’thelpedbythefreneticmovementofthesnowoutside—sharp,whitearrowstargetingtheglass,eclipsedonlybymurkyswirlsoffog.
CatchingthelookoffearflashingacrossWill’sfeatures,Elinsqueezeshishand,enjoyingthewarmthofitaroundhers.Shecan’thelpthinkingwhatmighthavebeen:Icouldhavelostallofthis,couldn’tI?MeandWill…ifthekillergottheirway
“Honestly,I’mokay.”Butassheleansbackagainstthesofa,shecanfeeltherapidpumpingofherheart.Hereyesbrieflyclose.
Onceagain,sheseesit—themask,therubberhoserunningfromnosetomouth.
No.Shecan’tlethermindgothere.Can’tletittakeover.NotnowthatLaureisdead.Shehastofindoutwhodidthisandstopthem.
“Drinkthis.”Willpassesherabottleofwater,nudgeshisglassesuphisnosewithhisforefinger.
Elinsipsfromit,handsshaking,therimofthebottlewobblingagainstherlips,bumpingagainstherteeth.
Hergazedartsinvoluntarilytowardthelift.
GlimpsingLaure’sbody,there’sanothersharpjoltofrealization:Laurehasdied.Thisisreal.
Thistimewhenshelooks,shedoesn’tseeLaure’sslumped,brokenbody,buttheoldLaure.ChildLaure.
Memoriesofherrearup:thetinycreasesthatbisectedherforearms,thecoloredbeadsCoralieplaitedintoherhair,hergangly-leggedwalkacrossthesand.
Tearsstingthebackofhereyes.
“Elin,it’sokay,youknow.Tofeel…”Will’swordsdropaway.
Neitherofthemspeaksforamoment.
“It’sashock,that’sall,”shesaysfinally.Sheforcesherselftomeethisgaze,butthetearshaven’tgoneaway,they’vesimplymoved.She’sswallowedthem,astickymassinherthroat,sittingheavy.
Stillwatchingher,Willbitesdownhardonhislowerlip.“Elin,Idon’twanttosayitnow,butyoucomingupherealonelikethat,itwasdangerous.Reckless.”
Heatchasesupherthroat.Shethumbstherimofthebottle.“Iwantedtogiveherachancetoexplain.Ithought…”Shefalters.“Ithoughtitwasgenuine,okay?
Mymistake.”
There’sanawkwardpause.Elintakesanotherswigofwater.
“Didn’tyouthinkabouttherisk?Whatthatmighthavedonetous,especiallyafterwhatwediscussedlastnight.”
“Iknow,butIkeptthinkingthatifshe’dwantedtohurtme,shehadtheopportunitybefore,andshedidn’t.”
Hisfaceistight,handsclenchedinhislap.
Sheleansover,lightlykisseshim.“I’msorry,”shewhispersintohischeek.“Ishouldn’tmakeexcuses.Iputmyselfatrisk.Ishouldn’thave.”
Heresistsforamoment,beforekissingherback.
Pullingaway,herunsahandoverhercheek,giveshera
small,grudgingsmile.“That’sprobablythefirsttimeyou’veadmittedyouwerewrongaboutsomething.”Hisvoicebreaks.“Honestly,ifyouhadn’tmessagedmethen,Idon’tknowwhatI’d…”
Butshedoesn’theartherestofhiswords.Athoughtsnagsaroundthefirsthalfofhissentence.
Themessage.
Sheshouldn’thavehadthechancetosendit.Thekillerhadwantedtocatchherunawares,notgivehertimetocontactsomeone,raisethealarm.
Thatmeanstiming-wise,somethinghadgonewrong.
Hadsomething,orsomeone,stoppedherattackeronthewayuptothepenthouse?
“Will,”shestarts,“howdidyougetuphere?”
“Whentheliftdidn’twork,Iaskedoneofthestaffiftherewasanotherwayup.Theyshowedmethestaircase.
Itopensintotheden.”
“Thatmustbehowtheygotin,”shemurmurs,puttingthebottleofwaterontothetablenexttoher.“TheyputLaureinthelift,thencameupthestairs.”
Thiswasthepotentialdelay,wasn’tit?
Forsomereason,they’dbeendelayedinoraroundthestairs.
Becauseofthat,thekillerhadneededtoimprovise,andindoingsohadmadeamistake.Givenhertimetosendthemessage.
Elinthinksitthrough:ifthekillerhadmadeonemistake,theremightbeanother.Shecastsaglancetowardthelift.Sheneedstotakeanotherlook.
ExamineLaure’sbodyproperly.
Willfollowshergaze.EyesfallingonLaure,heflinches.“Don’t.”Hisvoiceisunsteady.“Whateveryou’rethinkingofdoing,don’t.Thepolicemightonlybeadayout.Leaveitforthem.”Helooksather.“AndyouneedtotellIsaac,Elin,beforeyoudoanythingelse.”Hiseyes
onceagaininvoluntarilyflickertoLaure.“Heneedstoknowwhat’shappened.”
Elinshiftsposition.Whathe’ssayingmakessense,butthestakeshavebeenraised.Shecan’tleaveithere.ThissetupisaboutkillingLaure,butit’salsoabouther
Thefactthatthekillerwentafterhertellshersomethingvital:Theywantedheroutoftheway.Theonlyreasonforthatisbecausethey’replanningsomethingelse.59
Crouchingdown,ElinstartsphotographingLaure’sbody.
Witheveryclickandfreeze-frameofherphone,hereyesfindsomethingnew;abloodstain,amark,afeatureofLaure’sfaceshehadn’tnoticedbefore.
Elintakesadeepbreath,battingawaymemories,gladofthescreenbetweenthem,theslightdistanceitprovides.
Handsshaking,shefocusesontheneckincision:photographingitfromseveralangles,makingsureshecapturesthedetailofthewound.Yetagain,itsdepth,precision,pullsherupshort.
Ruthless.There’snodoubt.Noindecisionasblademetflesh.
Anexecution.
HergazemovesoverthevisiblepartsofLaure’sbody
—hands,wrists,forearms.LikeAdele,there’snosignofastruggle—nocuts,abrasions,orbruising.
Novisiblemarksatall.
Thekillerhadtohaveusedasedativetorestrainher.
Ifthey’dusedforcetherewouldbesomebruising,atleast.
Elinputsherphonedownandreachesforherbag.
Shepullsouthernotebook,startsscribblingdownherthoughts,butasherheadtipsforwarditthrobs.
There’sastrangeflashingbehindhereyes—notlights,butscenes,fragmentsofmoments.Meltingintooneanother,lucid,bright.
Aflashback.Anotherone.
Elinblinks,triestostopthemfromcoming,butitdoesn’twork.They’recontinuous,unstoppable:Isaac’sfacethatday,hismouthparted.Fear,freezinghisfeaturesintosomethingeerilyprecise,alien.
Theburningsunonthebackofherneck.
Afishingnet,driftingacrossthesurfaceofthewater.
ShereachesforthebottleofwaterWillgaveher,andtakesalongdrink.Inseconds,thedetail,theessenceoftheimages,dissolves,leavingavoid:somethingvitaltricklingthroughherfingers.
“Soit’sthesame.”Willwalksupbehindher.“AsAdele.”
Elinnoticeshismouthinvoluntarilycontractinrevulsionashetakesinthesceneclose-up.Hestaresglassy-eyedbeforeturningaway.
“Notexactly,”shereplies,pretendingnottonoticehisreaction.“Themethodofkilling,it’sdifferent.WithAdele,itwasmostlikelydrowning,butthis…”Shecoughs.“Thekillerhascutherthroat.Youcan’tsee,notfromthisangle,butherfingers…they’realsodifferent.
Thewoundsaren’tsuturedlikeAdele’swere.”
Butwhatdothedifferencesmean?
Shedoesn’tknowdefinitively,butitpointstothepossibilityofLaure’skillingbeingmorehurried,andalsomorefrenzied.Yet,shethinks,otherelementsarethesame:themask,thedigitremoval,theglassbox,thebracelets…identical.Noneofthesewereessentialtothekillingitself,soshe’scertainthey’resymbolic:thekillertryingtocommunicatesomething.
Butwhat?
Elinpullstheelementsapartonebyone.First,themask.Therearetwofactors:ifitwasonlyonthekiller’sface,youcouldassumeitwassimplyawayoftryingtoconcealhisorheridentity,butthefactthatit’sonthevictim’saswell,ithastomeansomething,doesn’tit?
Havesomesignificance.
It’simpossibletosaywhatthatcouldbe:notunlessshehasmoreinformation.It’sthesamewiththefingerremoval.Therecouldbemultipleexplanationsastowhy,butatthemomentshe’sinthedark.
Theglassboxistheonlythingshe’scertainof.Liketheonesinthehotel—containingthespittoon,thecliashelmet,it’sadeliberateploytodrawattentiontothecontents.
Why?
Theoverarchingmotiveiskey,butnowthatherprevioustheoryaboutLaurehasbeendisproved,she’sbacktothebeginning.Tryingtolinkdisparate,seeminglyunconnectedelementstogether.
TurningbacktoLaure,shestartstakingphotographsagainwhenherphonerings,buzzingagainstherpalm.
Shescansthescreen.
Berndt.
Histoneisurgent.“Elin,Idon’tknowifyougotmymessage,butwehaveanupdateonLaureStrehl.TheprosecutorhasagreedIcangiveyoutheinformation.”
“Goon.”Elin’svoiceisthick,tearsprickingthebackofhereyesassherealizeshermistake.
He’stalkingaboutLaureinthepresenttense,asifshewerestillalive,andElinhasn’tcorrectedhim.
“Idon’tthinkLaureisarisktoanyone,oratriskherself.Theinformationwefoundonherfilerelatestochargesfiledaftersomekindofaltercationwithher…
howdoyousayinEnglish?Apartmentmate—”
“Yes,that’sright.”Hervoiceissmall.
“Laurepushedherapartmentmateupagainstaglassdoor.Theglassshattered,thewomanendedupwithcuts,somebruises.”Berndthesitates.“Laurewaslucky.
Despiteneedinghospitaltreatment,thefriendwithdrewthecharges.”
“I—”
Butbeforeshecansayanythingelse,hecontinues.
“I’vealsomanagedtofindsomeanswerstoouroutstandingquestions.It’sprobablynotthenewsyou’dlike.Regardingthephonerecords,thefirstphone,asyou’dexpect,showsnothingoutoftheordinary—callstofriends,family,andyourbrother.Thesecondphoneshowsonlycallstowhatseemstobeaprepaidphone.
Weweren’tabletotracethecaller.”
“Okay,”Elinreplies.“Ifit’spossible,I’dliketoseetherecords.”
There’sahesitationbeforehemurmurshisassent.
SheneedstotellhimnowaboutLaure.Hastosaythewordsoutloud.Tellhim.Tellhim.
“Thankyoufortheinformation,butyoushouldknow”—sheclearsherthroat,rearrangesthewordsinherhead—“Laure…she’sdead.I’vejustfoundherbody.”
There’sasuddenintakeofbreath.“I,I’msorry,Idon’tunderstand…”Berndt’svoicetrailsoff.
“Laure’sbeenmurdered,”Elinrepeats,turningawayfromLaure’sslumpedframe.Shewipesawaythetearswiththebackofherhand.“Itlookslikeit’sthesamekiller.Asimilarsignature,andthekiller…theytriedtoattackme.”
“Okay.Elin.”Berndt’svoiceislow,urgent.“Beforewegothroughanythingelse,please,tellme,areyousafe?”
“I’mfine.Theyweredisturbedbysomeonecomingintotheroomandranoff.”
“You’resure?”Thedetective’sbreathingquickens.
“I’msure.”ElinlooksoveratWill,slipsherhandinsidehis.“I’vegotsomeonewithme.”
“Youdon’thaveanyinjuries?”
“No.”
Berndtexhalesheavily.“Good.”There’sapause.“Elin,areyouabletoexplainwhatyoufound?Exactlywhat
happenedbeforeyoufoundthebodyandwhathappenedwhenyouwereattacked?”
HelistensquietlyasElintakeshimthroughthedetails.
“Andthere’snothingatallyourecallabouttheattacker?”
“No.”Shebrieflycloseshereyes.“Theywerewearingthemask.AllIknowisthatwhoeveritwasisstrong.
Strongenoughtoeasilyholdmedown…”Hervoiceiswobbly.“I’msorry,itwassoquick.”
“It’sfine.Ifyoudoremembersomething,pleaseletmeknow.”Shehearstherustleofpaper,murmuredvoicesinthebackground.“Elin,theprioritynowiskeepingyou,thestaff,andtheremainingguestssafe.
Onceyou’vetakenthephotographs,pleasestayinasafeandsecurelocation.”
“Iwill,anddoyouhaveanupdateonwhenyou’llbeabletogetsomeonetous?”Shesoundsflustered,panicky.“There’sobviouslyalimittowhatIcandoonmyown.Myconcernnow,seeingthepremeditationinvolvedinthetwokillings,isthatthisisn’tover.Iftheseareserialmurders—”
“Iunderstand,”Berndtinterjects,astrangenotetohisvoice,oneshehasn’theardbefore.“Look,Elin,becauseoftheweather,Ican’tyetconfirm.Letmespeakwiththeteam.I’llcomebacktoyouassoonasIcan.”
“Fine.”Tighteninghergriparoundthephone,she’sunabletokeepthefrustrationfromhervoice.
Surelythere’ssomethingtheycando?Someotherwayofgettinghere?
Astheysaygood-bye,onceagainshehearsthecurioustonetoBenrdt’svoice.It’smoreobviousthistimeandshe’sabletoworkoutwhatitis:fear
Suppressedfear.
It’sdisturbing.Doesheknowssomethingshedoesn’t?
Perhapsthere’strulynowayofgettingtoher,hisreassuringwordsonlythat:awayofkeepinghercalm.
Sheflicksbacktothecameraonherphone,forcesthethoughtfromhermind.
Concentrate.ThisisaboutLaure.Nothingelse.
Thistime,shefocusesonphotographingthebloodsaturatingLaure’sclothes.Startingwiththeshirt,shemovesdowntoLaure’sjeans.Here,thestainingislessconcentrated—mostlyrunofffromtheshirt,especiallyaroundthepocketarea.
It’sthenshestops:shecanseeasmallbulgeinLaure’spocket,pusheddownlowagainstherthigh.
Alighter?
Elinpullsapairofglovesfromherbag,slipsthemon.
MovingtotherightofLaure,shecarefullypushesherfingersintothepocket,fishesitout.
“Will?”
Heturns.
“Look,I’vefoundsomething.”Sheholdsitup.
“Alighter?”
“Lookslikeit.”Elinturnsitbetweenherfingers,picturingLaurethatnightoutsidesmoking,talkingonherphone,noideashewasonlydaysawayfromthis
Willlooksatit,eyesnarrowed.“It’sabitbigforalighter,isn’tit?”Hefrowns.“Theold-fashionedonesarelarge,buttheywereadifferentshapeentirely.Squarer.
Youdon’tusuallyseeoneslikethis.”Hehesitates.“Tryit.”
Withonerapidmotion,Elinflicksthewheeldown.
Shesucksinherbreath,staringatthetopofthelighter,thesmallpieceofmetalslidingfromthetopinsteadofaflame.
“Amemorystick.”Willstares.
Elinisunabletostopherhandfromshaking.Shecan’tbelievethekillermeanttoleavethisonthebody.
Eitherherattackerdidn’tknowitwasthere,or—andshe
thinksthisisthemorelikelyoption—they’donlyrealizedorremembereditwastherewhenitwastoolate.
Perhapsthisiswhathadcausedthedelayincominguptothepenthouse.It’spossiblethatherattackerhadonlyworkedoutLaurehaditonherafterthey’dputherbodyinthelift.Thentheyhadgoneback,butthelifthadalreadyleft.
Eitherway,thisisthemistake,isn’tit?This.60
Youthinkitwasrecent?”Cecile’svoicesplinters,andlikeWillbeforeher,hereyesdartinvoluntarilytowardthelift,toLaure’sbody,thedarkrubbermaskskewedacrossherface.Althougheveryoneistryingtoavoidit,theopenmouthoftheliftkeepspullingattheirgazes.
“Yes.Afterexaminingthebody,I’dsayshewaskilledearlythismorning.I’mnotanexpert,butIthinkit’sagoodassumption.Ihadatextfromheratsixish,whichwouldwork,timing-wise,butit’shardtosayatthemomentifitwasfromherorthekiller…atrap…”
Cecile’seyesareglassy,wetwithtears.“I’msorry.”
Pullingatissuefromherpocket,shewipeshereyes.
“AfterAdele,Iknewtherewasachance,butit’shardtotakein.”
Elinreachesover,touchesherarm.“Iunderstand.”
“Andyoureallydon’thaveanyideawho’sdoingthis?”
“Afterthis,no.”Elinshiftsonthesofa.Themovementjars:adullachecrawlingupherspinefromwherethekillerhadknockedhertothefloor.Heroneleadisthememorystick,butshedoesn’twanttomentionittoeitherLucasorCecileuntilshe’shadachancetolookatit.
Atthispoint,shehasn’tquestionedanyoneabouttheiralibis,soeveryone’sstillasuspect,includingthem.
HereyesslidetoLucas,afewfeetaway.He’sstandingbythekitchenarea,talkingintentlyonhiscellphone.
Hishairisscrapedawayfromhisface,twistedintoalooseknotbehindhishead.Forthefirsttimeshecanseehisfaceclearly,andwithithisexpression.
Elindoesn’tlikeit.It’sclosed.Opaque.
Asifsensinghereyesonhim,helooksup,butgivesnonodofrecognition,justcontinuestalking,phonepressedagainsthisear.
Cecilewrapsherarmsaroundherself.“It’sgottobesomeonehere,hasn’tit?”Hervoiceisstrained.“You’vegottospeaktoeveryoneagain.Thestaff,guests.Seeiftheyhavealibisforthismorning.”
“Ofcourse,”Elinsaysevenly.“You’llobviouslyneedtoprovideinformationaboutyourwhereaboutstoo.”
Herwordshangforafewmomentsunanswered,beforeCecilefinallyreplies.“That’sfine,”shesaysstiffly.
“It’snotveryexciting.Iwasaloneinmyroomfirstthing,andthenwithamemberofstaff.”
Elinnods.“I’lltakethedetailslater.First,IneedtoaskaboutCCTV.Isthereacamerainthecorridortothelift?”
“No.Thereshouldbe,butit’sgonedown.”
“Thecamera?”
“Thewholesystem.Overnight.We’retryingtogetsomeonetoworkonitremotely,butthere’saproblemwiththesoftware.Itlookslikeit’scorrupted.Theexternaltechniciansaiditcouldtakeseveraldays.”Herfeaturestense.“Beforethis,Ithoughtitwasafault,butnow…”
Elinabsorbsherwords,aheavyweightsettlinginherstomach.
Thekiller’sdonethis.
They’vetakenouttheCCTV:theonlythingshecouldusetotrytoidentifythem.Withoutit,Elinisblind.
She’sabouttoreplywhenshenoticesLucasstridingtowardthem.Holdingoutthephone,hisexpressionisserious.“It’sthepolice.Theywanttospeaktoyou.”
Shetakesitfromhim.“Hello?”
It’sBerndt.Hisvoiceismuffled.“Elin,I’msorry,butwe’renotgoingtobeabletogetanyoneuptothehotel
today.TheGrouped’Interventionhasjustreceivedanupdatefromthepilot,theMETAR—”
“METAR?”
“Theradarinformationforthenextfewhours.
Visibilityisbelowonehundredsixtyfeetandsustainedwindspeedsareatsixtyknots,gustingtoeighty-plus.”
Asifoncue,thewindhowls.Itfeelslikeit’spullingatthebuilding,tuggingatthefoundations.“Soyoucan’tcome?”
“No,”Berndtsaysawkwardly.“Elin,it’snotachoice,it’sagainstregulations.Theconditionsaresobadthey’vehadtopulltheaircraftbackintothehangartopreventdamagefromanyflyingobjects.It’snotlookinggooddownhere.”
“Whatabouttheroad?”
“Theareaaroundtheavalancheisstillimpassable.
We’vegotpeopleworkingitonfoot,butit’lltakeseveraldays.”
“Andthere’sreallynootherway?”shepersists,thetensionshe’sfeelingcuttingherwordsshort.
Severalbeatspass.“Notsafely,no.”Berndtsoundsembarrassed.“TheGrouped’Interventionarehighlytrained,butthey’renotqualifiedhigh-mountainguides.
Thebest-casescenarioisthatwegettoyoutomorrow,unlesstheweatherforecastchanges.”
“Sowe’reonourown.”Hervoicefalters.Onceagain,self-doubttauntsher:Ican’tdothis.I’mnotcapable.
“I’mafraidso.”There’sahesitationbeforehespeaksagain,hisvoicelow.“Elin,pleaselisten.Nowthatsomeoneelsehasbeenkilled,theprotocolwe’veadvisedisextremelyimportant.Everyoneneedstostaytogether.
Noexceptions.”
“Okay.”Elin’svoicewobbles.Shewantstocry—propertears.Thisisn’thowit’smeanttobe.Shewantedtohavethisundercontrol.
“I’llcallyouwhenIknowmoreabouttheforecast.”
Berndtclearshisthroat.Ashesaysgood-bye,Elin’seyesaredrawnonceagaintothelift,toLaure.
Realityhitslikeadoorslamminginherface.
Noone’scoming.Notnow,notinafewhours.
Laure’sdeadandthey’restuckhere—nowayin,nowayout,noideawhat’scomingnext.
She’softenthoughtaboutthis,therisksofacrimeinaremotelocation.Howvulnerablepeoplewouldbe,howmuchdamagecouldbeinflictedinashortperiodoftime.
HermindflickerstotheterrorattacksinNorwayin2011.AndersBreivik,aright-wingeronarampage,shotatteenagersgatheredontheislandofUtoyaduringanannualsummercamp.Theisland’sremotelocationmeantthatbythetimepolicehadreachedthem,sixty-ninepeoplehadalreadybeenmassacred.
Shecan’thelpwondering:Whatwouldthekillerherebecapableofgiventhechance?
Herchainofthoughtisbroken.Lucas’svoice:“Hey,lookatthis.”
Sheglancesup,andseesLucasbythelift,crouchingdownbesidetheglassbox.
“Whatisit?”Walkingovertohim,Elinistense,acutelyawareofhimaccidentallytouchinganything,compromisinganyevidence.“Please,”shesays,gettingcloser,“don’ttouchtheboxdirectly.”
“Thisbracelethere…there’ssomethingonit.It’sfaint,butIthinkthey’renumbers.”Lucastipshisheadsideways.“Engraved.LikethebraceletsbyAdele’sbody.”
Elinkneelsdownbesidehim.
“Thisone.”Lucaspointstothebraceletontheleft.
“Look.”
He’sright.
Fivenumbers,lightlyetchedintothemetal,sofaintyoumightmissthematfirstglance.
Elinstares;alurchofrealization.
Thismeansthesenumbersaresignificant,surely?
“Youthinkthey’reimportant?”
“Yes.”Elin’sgazemovesbacktothebox,thenextbracelet.
Sheneedstophotographthenumbers,writethemdown,comparethemtotheonesshefoundonthethreebraceletsnearAdele’sbody.
Positioningherphone,she’sabouttotakeaphotowhen,inthecornerofhervision,shecatchesamovement:LucaslookingoverherheadtowardCecile.
TheyexchangeaglancebeforeLucasturnsaway,hisexpressiontroubled.61
Sureyou’vegoteverything?”Willpushesatthedoorleadingfromthepenthouseintothestairwell.
“Ithinkso.”Elinhesitates,castsonefinallooktowardthelift,toLaure.“Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingelseIcando.”
Beforethey’dleft,she’dtakensomefinalphotographsofthesceneandoftheglassboxcontainingthebracelets,madesurethepowerwasswitchedoffforthelift,butshe’dfoundherselflingeringlongerthansheneededto.
Itwasinstinctive:shehadn’twantedtoleaveLaurealoneinthere,isolated.
AsWillclosesthedoorbehindthem,she’sstrickenagainwithguilt.Shecan’tshakethefeelingthatshe’sfailedLauresomehow—missedsomethingvitalthatmighthavepreventedthis.
“I’llgetsometapeuptherelater.Cordonitoff.
Cecile’sgoingtoblockaccessthroughthecorridor.”Elinstops,registeringtheexpressiononWill’sface.He’slookingather,buthiseyesaredistant,likehe’sthinkingaboutsomethingelse.“What’swrong?”
“Whatdoyoumakeofthosetwo?LucasandCecile?”
Helowershisvoice.“There’safunnyvibethere.”
“Inwhatway?”
“Idon’tknow.I’mprobablyreadingintoit,buthowtheywerespeakingtoeachother—itfeltstrained.”Hestartsdownthefirststep,handgrazingthemetalrailing.
“Mustbeweird,brotherandsister,workingtogether—”
Hedoesn’tgetachancetofinishhissentence.
Elincanhearvoices.Theconcretewallsofthestairwellareactinglikeanechochamber,funnelingthe
soundupwardsoit’simpossibletotellwhereexactlythey’recomingfrom:itcouldbetwofloorsdownorfour.
Shepeersovertherail.Thestairwayisdarkandtheconcretestepsdappledinshadow.Twopeoplearestandingattheverybottomofthestaircase.Onlythetopsoftheirheadsarevisible,butElinrecognizesthemimmediately.
Shefreezes,ashivermovingthroughherspine.LucasandCecile.They’dbeengoneforovertwentyminutes.
Havetheybeenhereallthistime?
Movingswiftly,shemotionstoWill,putsafingertoherlips.
Shestepsawayfromtherail,pressesherbackagainstthewall.Withoutthesoundoftheirmovements,Cecile’sandLucas’svoicesaremoredistinct.
They’respeakinginFrench.Short,rapid-firesentences.Incomprehensible.
TurningtoWill,shelowershervoice.“YourFrenchisbetterthanmine.Whataretheysaying?”
“There’ssomeslang,”hewhispers,“butCecile’stellinghimsomethingisserious,andheshouldtell,andthatwhathappenedtoLaure…itisn’tacoincidence.”
“AndLucas?”
“He’snothappy.Hesaid,‘Theydon’tknowanythingforsure.’”
What’sshemissinghere?What’sgoingonbetweenthetwoofthem?
Elin’sbarelybreathing.
“Vousdevezluidire.”
“Non,non.Jen’airienàfaire,Cecile.Nepasoublier,jenesuispasl’undesequipeici.Jesuislechef,votrepatron.”
ElinbalksatLucas’stone.Goneisthelaid-backintonation.Thewordssoundaggressive,dominant.ShelooksatWill.
“Cecile’ssayingagainthatheshouldtellsomeone,buthe’sgettingpissedoff,remindingherthathe’stheboss.”
Steppingout,Elinpeersdownintothestairwellagain.
They’vechangedposition,movedfromthebottomofthestairs.Lucas’shandisrestingonCecile’sarm.
Moreangrywords.Two,threesentences,backandforth.
Silence.Theclickoffootstepsonthefloorastheyleave.
Willlooksather,hisexpressiontroubled.“Cecilejustsaidthatshe’dtellsomeoneifhedidn’t.”
“Tellwhat?”
“Shedidn’tsay.”Willexhalesheavily.“Whatdoyoumakeofthat?”
“Idon’tknow.”ShepicturesLucas’shandgraspingCecile’sarm,theangerinhisvoice.Sheneedstimetothinkandgeteverythingstraightinherhead.
Butbeforethat,she’sgottodowhatshe’sbeendreadingthemost:speaktoIsaac,tellhimwhat’shappenedtoLaure.
“I’mgoingtotellIsaacalone,ifthat’sokay,”Elinsays,voicingherthoughtsaloud.
“It’sfine.”Willnodshisassent.“I’lldosomework.”
Theymaketheirwaydownthestairs.
Onthefinalstep,thetraceofsomething—vague,illdefined.Itnagsattheedgeofhersenses,gonebeforeshecanidentifyit.62
Butyousaid,youthought…”Isaac’sgropingforwords,wordshecan’tfind.Hisfaceispuffy,swollen,hiseyeslikeslits.Theeczemaonhiseyelidisnowavividred—rawandweeping.
“Iknow.Igotitwrong.”Shiftingapileofclothes,Elinsitsdownonthebednexttohim,painfullyawareoftheinadequacyofherwords.Sheslipsherbagoffhershoulder,placesitonthefloor.
Isaacmovescloser.Shecanmakeoutathinsheenofsweatonhisforehead.
“WhatabouttheCCTV?”hesays.“Laurepushingyou
—”
“Idon’tknow.”Sweepingbackastrandofhairfromherforehead,herskinfeelsdamp,clammy.WhyamIsohot?“Maybeshewastryingtowarnmeoff.Knewwhatwasgoingon,thedangers…”
Isaacshakeshishead,hisfaceclosetohers.“Andallthistime,youthoughtLaurewasinvolvedinthis.
Suspectedher.”Hefoldsthetissueinhishandintoanunevensquare,eyesrawwithaccusation.“Shewaslookingforwardtogettingtoknowyouagain,Elin.Youknowthat,right?Sheneverunderstoodwhyyoulostcontact.Shetriedtowrite,call…”
Elinmovesbackward,uncomfortable,afamiliarlumpofguiltlodginginherchest;she’dletsomeonedown,again.“Isaac,Iwasinshock.Weallwere.”
Abeadofsweattricklesdownherback.Standingup,sheturnstowardthefireplace.It’son:red-orangeflamesleapinguptheglass.
Whywouldhehavethefireonwhenit’salreadysohot?
“That’snoexcuse,Elin,”Isaacpersists.“Shewasyourfriend.Youdroppedher,likeMumdroppedCoralie.”
There’sanawkward,loadedsilence.Sheknowswherethisangeriscomingfrom—it’snotjustather,butatthesituation,too,hisimpotence,butshecan’tstopherselffromresponding.
“Itwasn’taboutdroppinganyone.Life…itstoppedthatday.Itwasn’tjustCoralie.Mumcutalmosteveryoneoff.”
“No.”Isaac’sfingersareturningthetissuetoshreds.
“AllMumcouldthinkaboutwasherself.Hergrief.Howitwasthebiggest,mostimportant.Shedidn’twanttothinkaboutanyoneelse.”Hemeetshergaze,unflinching.
Elinsensestheunsaidimplication—he’sreferringtoher,too,butit’ssafertocallouttheirmotherinstead.
She’snothere,notabletodefendherself.
Isheright?
Hereyestrackthefallingsnowoutsideasshechurnsoverhiswords.Probably.HergriefforSam…ithadswallowedeverythinginitspathandshe’dletit.
Indulgedit.Excusablewhenshewastwelve,butnotnow.
Isaacturnsaway,shouldersheaving.“WhatLauremusthavegonethrough—”Hisvoicegivesway.“It’smyfault.Ishouldhavelookedharderforher.”Hisshoulderssag,thefightdrainingoutofhim.
Elinwatcheshim.Shedoesn’tknowwhy,buthisinabilitytostayangrywithher,tokeeptheargumentgoing,makessomethingcatchinherthroat.
Steppingforward,shereachesouttohim,buttheactionfeelsrusty,underused.Herhandhangs,midair,beforeshedropsittoherside.
Sheknowswordswon’tcutit,andevenworse,thisisonlythestart.Griefislikeaseriesofbombsexploding,oneafteranother.Everyhour,anewdetonation.Shockaftershockaftershock.
“Isaac,there’snothingyoucouldhavedone.
Whoever’sdoingthis…they’reclever.Onestepahead.”
Shegetstheimpressionhehasn’tevenheardher;hiseyesaretracingthefallingsnowoutside.Silent,hewipeshiseyeswithhishand.Thewhitesarerimmedinred.
Elinhesitates,unsureofwhattodonext.Heneedstime.Timetoprocessitwithouthavingtospeakoranalyzeit.“Look,I’mgoingtogo.”Shestandsup.“Seewhat’sonthememorystick.I’llcomeandcheckonyoulater,okay?”
There’snoreply.
Asshemakesherwaytothedoor,atinymovementcatcheshereye—somethinginthefireplace,amongtheflamesleapingattheglass.Shestops,takingacloserlook.Notwood,butsomethingthinner,curlingoveronitself.Paper?
“What’sthat?”shesayslightly,gesturing.
“What?”Helooksup.
“Inthefireplace?Itlookslikepaper.”Thistime,she’ssureshecanseeanimage:shapesratherthanwords.
Silhouettes,maybe.
Aphotograph?
“Justsomereceipts.”Hedoesn’tmeethereye.
“Rubbishfrommybag.”
Whenshereachesforthedoorhandle,theflameslurchupward,asuddenbidforfreedom,orange-purpleflickers.Theimage,ifitwaseverthere,isgone.Curleduponitself,aclosed,ashenfist.
Elinknowsit’sprobablynothing,butthedoubtisstillthere.
Doubtthat’stiedtotheimagelockedinsideherhead
—Isaac,withhishandsoutstretched,hisfingerssteepedinblood.63
WhenElingetsbacktoherroom,shefindsthatWillisn’tthere.
Isn’themeanttobeworking?Shechecksherphoneandfindsatext.
Gonetogetsomethingtoeat.
Elinsmiles.Willneedsconstantrefuelingwhilehe’sworking.Ifhe’sstayingatherapartmentandbringsworkhome,shealwaysprovidesapostdinnersnack—
scrambledeggsorporridge.Cheeseandbiscuits.
Shereplies:Ok.Backintheroom.Seeyouinabit.
Reachingforhertote,shepullsonhergloves,withdrawsthememorystickfromitsbag.Whensheplugsitintothesideofherlaptop,asmallwindowopensonthescreen.“OpenDiskF”
Sheclicks.Thecontentsoftheportabledrivefillthescreen:twenty,maybethirtyindividualdocuments.Thefilenamesareallthesameexceptforthefinaldigit.
Sheopensthefirst.Adocumentappears.It’sbeenscannedin—thepaperslightlyyellowedatthecorners,thewordstypewrittenratherthancomputergenerated
Hereyesdarttothewordsattheverytopofthepage:GOTTERDORFKLINIK.There’sadatetotheleftofit:1923
Belowthatareseveralboxes.ThewordsareinGerman.Namen,Geburtsdatum,Krankengeschichte
Thefirsttwoarejustwithinherrealmofcomprehension—name,dateofbirth—butthethirdisbeyondher.
Openinganotherscreen,shetapsthewordintoGoogleTranslate—Krankengeschichte
ClinicalHistory.
Herinitialinstinctiscorrect—it’samedicalfile.
Butthere’saproblem:apartfromtheheaders,therestofthedocumentisredacted.Theworditselfismarkedacrossatextboxinblack:REDACTED.
Shetriesanother:thesamething.
REDACTED.
Thepatterncontinues.Aprickleoffrustration:notoneofthefilescontainsanyactualinformation—nohintatwhothefilesreferto,theircontents.
Thenhereyesflickertothetoprightofonedocument,justbelowwherethepatientnameshouldbe.
IDNr.
Nexttoitisanumber.Intact.Howhadshemisseditbefore?
Herheartstartstobeatalittlefaster.Thenumbers,they’reinthesameformatasthoseonthebracelets.
Afive-digitnumber.
Elinjumpsup,scrabblesinherbagforhernotebook.
Withdrawingit,shefindsthepagewhereshe’swrittendownthebraceletnumberstheyfoundnearAdele’sbody.
ShethenlooksonherphonefortheimagesofthebraceletsfoundnearLaure’s.Noneofthenumbersfromthephotographsmatch,soshelooksbacktothenotebook.
Fourlinesdown,shefindsit:87534.
Elinstaresatthenumberuntilthedigitscrossoveroneanother,tryingtotakeitin:thisfile,thebracelet,theylink.Thatmeansthisclinicisconnectedinsomewaytothekillings.
Buthow?
Openingupanotherscreen,ElinGooglestheclinic.
Thewebsiteforitappearsatthetopofthesearch.
TheshortblurbabovethelinkisinGerman:DieKlinikGotterdorfbesch?ftigtsichmitderDiagnose,BehandlungundErforschungpsychiatrischerErkrankungen.
EvenhernonexistentGermantellsherthatit’slikelytobeapsychiatricfacility.
Butwhere?
Elinclicksonthecontactpage.Theclinic’saddressisinGermany.
Goingbacktothehomepage,shecanseeithousesseveralparagraphsoftext.Swipingoverit,sheplugsitintoGoogleTranslate.
Weinvestigatethecausesofpsychiatricdisorderstodevelopbetter,personalizedtherapiesaswellaspreventativeapproaches.Thepresentclinic,focusingonthetreatmentofmentalillness,grewoutofthehospitalfoundedin1872.
Immediateconfirmation:itwas,andstillis,apsychiatricfacility.
WhywouldLaurebecarryingaroundredactedfilesfromaGermanpsychiatricclinic?
Elinknowsthere’sonlyonewaytofindout.Scrollingdowntofindtheclinic’scontactdetails,shepicksupherphone,dials.Itringsonlyafewtimesbeforeawomanpicksup.
“GutenTag,GotterdorfKlinik.”Hervoiceisclipped,professional.
Again,Elincursesherinabilitywithlanguages.It’salwaysbeenhernemesis.ShetookbothFrenchandGermaninhighschool,couldreaditadequatelyenough,butstruggledtospeakmorethanafewwords.
“DoyouspeakEnglish?”
“Ofcourse.”Thewomanswitchedwithease.“HowmayIhelp?”
“MynameisElinWarner,I’mapoliceofficerintheUK.I’mworkingonacaseandI’vefoundsomeredactedfilesthatappeartobefromyourclinic,datingbacktothe1920s.IwaswonderinghowIcouldgoaboutfindingoutmore.”
Alongpause.“I’msorry,Iwouldliketohelp,butanyrequestforfileinformationhastobedoneformally.Asyou’reprobablyaware,patientconfidentialityprecludesusfromsharinganyinformation.”
She’dbeenexpectingthis.“Iunderstand,butcouldyougivemeanideaofwhattherecordsmightcontain?”
“Waitonemoment,please.”Elincanheartherustlingofpaper,murmuredvoicesinthebackground.
“Yes,”thewomansaysfinally.“Thereisnoproblemtellingyouthis.Foreachpatientwehaverecordsofeverythingfromtheveryfirstsignsofthepathologyandinitialdiagnosis,leadingthroughtothehospitaltreatmenttheyreceivedbeforebeingadmittedtotheclinic.Oncethey’reattheclinic,westartourownrecords
—medication,treatments,thepatient’sresponses.”
Elinexhales.“Thesefileswe’vefound,astheydatefromthe1920s,wouldtheybepaperorelectronicfiles?”
“Both.We’vemadeelectroniccopiesofeverythingthatwasfiledonpaper.”
Shedecidestopushherluck.“Woulditbepossibletocheckifyoudefinitivelydostillhavetheseonfile?IhavewhatIassumeisapatientnumber.”Shekeepshervoiceneutral.“Idon’tneedanyinformationregardingtheircontents,justconfirmationtheydobelongtotheclinicandareauthentic.”
Ahesitation,then:“Okay.CanIpleasehavethenumber?”
Pullingthefilebackuponthescreen,shespellsitout.
“87534.”
“Thankyou.Pleasewaitamoment.I’llseeifIcanfindit.”
Shecanhearthewoman’sfingerslightlytappingthekeyboard.
There’sasudden,sharpintakeofbreath.
Elinstiffens.She’sfoundsomething.
Severalbeatspassbeforethewomanspeaksagain.
“Thereisafilewithanumbermatchingtheoneyou’vegivenme,butI’msorry,it’sbeen”—hervoicecatches
—“it’sbeenremoved.”64
Therecord’sgone?”Elin’sunabletokeepthesurprisefromhervoice.
“Yes,butI’msurethere’sbeenamistake,that’sall.”Thewomanclearsherthroat.“I’msorryIcouldn’tbeofanymoreassistance.”
Asharpclick.
She’shungup,butnotbeforeElincaughtthealarminhertone.Herhandclenchesaroundhermobile.Thisisnocoincidence.
Whateverisrecordedinthesefilesisclearlysignificantenoughforsomeonetogotogreateffortstomakesuretheinformationdoesn’tgetintothewronghands.
Butwhatisit?AndhowdidLauregetholdofthefilesinthefirstplace?
Elinputsherfingerstohertemple.Howevershepositionsit,itallcomesbacktoonething:She’satadisadvantage,scrabblingaroundforanswerstoquestionssheisn’tevensurearetherightonestobeasking.
Itdoesn’thelp,sheknows,thatshe’sdoingthisonherownwithnoonetobounceideasoff.WhileshehasBerndtoverthephone,it’snotthesame.Withherteam,there’snotonlyashorthandbutavitalchemistrythatcanigniteasparkofinvestigativebrilliancethat’softenkeytocrackingacase.Oneoftheteam’sseeminglysimplequestionsorobservationscansetoffachainofthoughtthatcanspinacaseinacompletelynewdirection.
Scrollingthroughherphone,shefindsthee-mailBerndtsentcontainingLaure’smobilephonerecords.
Sheopensthefirstfileandporesoverthescreen.
Laurecalledmoreorlessthesamenumbersregularly:Isaac,hermother,sister,cousin,severalothersthathavebeenidentifiedasfriends.Therearenounusualcallpatternsinthelead-uptoherdisappearance.
Elinopensthenextfile,recordsfromLaure’ssecondphone,butsoonputsitdown,frustrated.Thecallpatternisinteresting—clustersofcallstothesamenumberoverthepastfewweeks,includingonethatwaslikelytobethecallinFrenchElinoverheardthedaytheyarrived,butit’snexttouseless.Ifthere’snowaytotrackthephoneLaurehadbeencalling,there’snothingshecandoaboutit.
Slidinghernotebooktowardher,shereadsthroughthebriefstatementsshe’dgotfromthestaffandguestsafterAdele’smurder.
HaveImissedanythingvital?SomeotherconnectionbetweensomeoneI’dspokentoandLaureandAdele?
Butasshesiftsthroughhernotes,she’sstruck,onceagain,byhowstraightforwardthestatementsare.
Everyone’salibisareinorder,nothingflaggedassuspiciousornoteworthyleadinguptoAdele’sdeath.
Theonlythingshecangooniswhatshe’sdeducedsofar.Sheneedstowriteitdown,getitstraightinherhead.Shestartswiththecrimes:
—Twofemalevictims,bothworkinginthehotel,similarages
Listingeverythingshe’sfoundoutaboutbothLaureandAdele,shestartswithAdele:
—Noissueswithfriends,family,herex.Nocurrentpartner.(NOOBVIOUSMOTIVE)
—NoproblemsatworkapartfromthebrokenfriendshipwithLaure(Axel
overheardargumentbetweenthem,Felisaconfirmedissuesbetweenthem)
Next,shethinksthrougheverythingsheknowsaboutLaure.Alongerlist:
—Theargumentonthephonethefirstnight(possiblytoburnerphone)
—Laure’ssecondphone—whodidtheburnerphoneshewascallingbelongto?
—Laure’srelationshipwithLucas.
Specifically:thelettersshesenthim&thephotographsshehadofhim.Hadtherelationshipstartedupagainrecently?
—Thee-mailstothejournalistreferringtohotel’sallegedcorruption/bribery
—Laure’sargumentwithAdele
Next,shemovesontothecrimesthemselves:
—Bothprobablysedatedpriortothemurderstakingplace
—DifferentMOforeach(drowning/knifewoundinflictedtoneck)butbodiesreflectthesamesignature
Puttingherpeninhermouth,shechews,staringatwhatshe’swritten.
Hereyeskeepcirclingbacktooneword:signature
Sheneedstothinkaboutthis,dissectit.Noteverycrimehasone,andifitdoes,thesignatureiswhatholdsthemeaning;it’sthepersonalimprintofthekiller.
Itisn’tessential—notsomethingthat’sactuallyrequiredtocommitthecrime,soitsonlypurposeistofulfilltheemotionalorpsychologicalneedsofthekiller.
Itcomesfromdeepwithintheirpsyche,perhapsreflectingafantasytheymighthavehadabouttheirvictims.
Thekeyelementofasignatureisthatit’salwaysthesame,apattern,becauseitstemsfromthefantasiesordesiresthathaveevolvedforyearsbeforetheymurderedtheirfirstvictim.
Sowhatcanthesignatureheretellher?
Pickingoutthefourkeyelementsofthesignatureagain,shewritesthemdown:
—Glassdisplaybox
—Digitremoval(andthenplacedindisplaybox)
—Braceletarounddigits
—Maskstrappedovervictim’shead.
(Perpetratoralsowearingmask.)MaskseemstobeoneusedinthesanatoriumfortreatmentofTB.
Elinstaresatwhatshe’swritten,hermindspoolingthroughit,whenonethoughtcatches,snags.
Ajolt:WhatifI’vebeenconcentratingonthewrongthing?
Whatifshe’sbeensofocusedonthepersonalrelationships,thedynamicsamongthepeoplehere,thatshe’smissedsomethingvital?
Themedicalelement
Puttingthefilesintocontextwiththesignature—themask,theamputations,theuseofthedisplaybox—it’sobvious.
Adrenalinesurgesthroughher.Shefeelslikekickingherself.Thisisit,isn’tit?Thepartshe’sbeenmissing.
Thisisn’taboutthehotelatall.It’saboutthepast,whatthehotelusedtobe.
Thesanatorium.65
Stilllookingdownatthepage,Elindoesn’tnoticethedooropening,orWillcomingupbehindher.
Puttinghishandonhershoulder,hesqueezes.
“Hey.Didn’tyougetmymessage?”
“Ireplied,didn’tI?”
“Notthatone,Isentoneabouttheweather.”
“Inanotherworld,sorry.”Shetiltsherheadtowardhim,andkisseshim.“What’shappening?”
“IwatchedthelocalreportonTVwithsomeofthestaff.Thesnowfallisgoingtogetworseoverthenextfewhours.Theavalancheriskishuge.”
Elinlooksoutside.Snowiscomingdownrelentlessly.
Morethanablizzard—anonslaught.Thedriftsaroundthewindowseemtobegettingbiggerbytheminute.Thesightgoesrightthroughher,andshefeelsherstomachknot.
“Couldtherebeanotheronehere,likebefore?”
“Theythinkit’spossible…”hesaysanxiously.“Thesheervolumeofsnowinsuchashortspaceoftime—”Heleansagainstthedesk.“SohowdiditgowithIsaac?”
“Prettybadly.Hestartedblamingme,thenhimself…”Elinglancesbackathernotebook.Thewordsonthepageareswimmingagain.Sherubsathereyes.They’regritty,sore.“Wouldyoumindgoingtocheckonhiminabit?Seehowhe’sdoing?Itmightbebettercomingfromsomeoneelse.”
“Ofcourse.”Willlooksather.“Andwhataboutyou?
Haveyouhadanythingtoeatordrinksinceyougotbacktotheroom?”
Beneaththedesk,herfootjigsupanddown.“No.Iwasplanningto,afterIspoketoIsaac,thenIgotstuckonthis.Haven’thadtime.”
Willsighs,reachinguptorufflethebackofhishair.
“Look,Iknowyou’resetonworkingonthis,butyou’vegottolookafteryourself.Whathappenedupthere…”
Elinmeetshisworriedgaze,givesaquickanodofassent.
“Tea?”
“No.I’mfine.”
“Coffee?”Willraisesaneyebrow.Shecanseethedeterminationinhiseyes.He’sdoggedlikethis.
Uncompromising.It’swhyeverybuildinghedesignsisfeted,winsawards.He’scapableofsitting,forhours,fiddlingwithaparticularelementofadesigntogetitexactlyright.
“Okay,thanks.”Sheforcesasmile.
Willwalksovertothecoffeemachine,andputsacupunderthenozzle.“Sowhatareyoudoingnow?”
“GoingthroughthememorystickwefoundonLaure.”
Switchingonthemachine,heraiseshisvoiceabovethesoundofthewaterboiling.“And?”
“TherearesomefilesfromapsychiatricclinicinGermany,datingbacktothe1920s.”
“What’sinthem?”Thewater’sboiled.Nowthecoffee:alowrumbleasit’sforcedthroughthemachineintothecup.
“That’stheinterestingthing.”Shewatchesthestaccatotrickleofcoffeeintothecup.“Alloftheinformationisredacted.Names,medicalhistory,treatments.Everything.”
Willfrowns,puttingthecoffeeinfrontofher.“WhywouldLaurehavethose?”
“Idon’tknow.Icalledtheclinic,triedtofindoutwhattheymightcontain.That’swhereitgetsinteresting.The
onefileIaskedaboutwasdeleted.ThewomanIspoketoputdownthephoneprettyquickly.Shesoundedthrown.”
Hecatcheshereye.“Sonotacoincidence,then?”
“Idon’tthinkso.”Shetakesasipofcoffee.He’sright;shedidneedsomething:thehot,bitterliquidimmediatelypushesthroughthefoginherhead.
“HaveyoutoldBerndtaboutthefiles?”
“No.Ihaven’teventoldhimaboutthememorystick.Imeantto,but…”Shetrailsoff,hearingtheflimsyexcuse.Shehadn’tmeantto,notreally.Shewantedtofollowitupherself—lead,takeaction.“Idon’tthinkIcannow.IfheknowsI’vecalledtheclinicwithoutaskingthem…”
Willfrowns.“Youthinkhe’dstopyouinvestigating?”
“It’spossible.They’veonlyauthorizedmetocarryoutthemostbasicinvestigation.”Shehesitates.“Ihonestlydon’tthinkIcancross-checkeveryactionItakewiththem.Wehaven’tgottime.”
“Andyou’vegotnootherwayoffindingoutwhat’sonthefiles?”
“No,butIdidfindsomethingsignificant.”Raisingafingertothefileonthescreen,shepointstothepatientnumber.“There’sanumberonthefile,oneoftheonlythingsthatisn’tredacted.”
“Apatientnumber?”
“Yes.ItmatchesthenumberononeofthebraceletsinthedisplayboxfromAdele’smurder.”
“Sothesefiles”—heraisesaneyebrow—“theyconnectwiththekillings?”
“Yes.”She’sunabletokeeptheexcitementfromhervoice.“Ithinktheytellussomething.Bringeverythingtogether.”
“Butifyoudon’tknowwhat’sinthem…”
“Itdoesn’tmatter.What’simportantisthatweknowtheyconnecttothekillings,andthatweknowwhattheyare.”
Hefrowns.“You’relosingme.”
“Thefactthatthey’remedicalfiles,it’sgottobeimportant.Untilnow,I’vebeenthinkingintermsofthehotel,therelationshipsamongthepeoplehereasapotentialmotiveforthemurders,butIthinkthat’swrong.Idon’tthinkit’saboutthehotelatall.Ithinkit’saboutwhatitusedtobe.”
“Thesanatorium?”Willpullsupachair.She’sgothisattentionnow.
“Yes.Thinkabouthowthemurderswerestaged,theprops.Themask,thedisplaybox,thebracelets…it’slikethekilleristryingtodrawourattentiontosomething.”Shejabsatthescreenagain.“It’sthehotel’spast,isn’tit?Itsclinicalpast,thesanatorium.Thesemedicalfiles,whenthey’redated,theyconnectit.”
“Thatmakessense,”Willsayscarefully,“butwheredoyougofromhere?”
“Ineedtocheckeveryone’salibi.Seeifthereareanyinconsistencies.Ican’tcheckCCTVasit’sdown.”
“Butwhatifeveryonehasanalibi?Youstilldon’thaveanyotherconcreteleads.”
Elinpicksuphercoffee,takesalongdrink.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthat.Lauremusthavegotthesefilesfromsomewhere,mustn’tshe?”
“Somewherehere?”
“Thearchiveroom.It’stheoneplaceinthehotelthathasn’tbeenmodernized.Ifallthisisaboutthehotel’spast,IthinkI’vegottotakeanotherlookinthere.”66
CecileisalreadystandingbythedoortothearchiveroomasElinarrives.Herexpressionistense,thedarkshadowsloomingbeneathhereyesnowbruiselikeintheirintensity.
She’sstillwearingheruniform,buttheeffectisprobablytheoppositeofwhatsheintended.Ratherthangivetheimpressionthatthehotel’srunningnormally,itship,casualformalityseemsfaintlyironic—thenamebadgesittingabruptlyaskewthefinal,macabretouch.
“You’resurethisisokay?”Elingesturestothedoor.
Cecilegivesashortnod.“Ifyouthinkitwillhelp.”
“Idon’tthinkwehaveanyoption.It’souronlylead.”
It’strue,Elinthinks.She’sjustspokentoeveryoneabouttheirwhereaboutsthepreviousnightandthismorning.
Theiralibiswereeithersolidorcurrentlyunverifiable.Ifpeopleweresayingtheywerealoneintheirroom,shedoesn’thaveanywayofprovingwhetherthey’retellingthetruthornot.
Itbothersher,thefactthatshe’ssoblindinthis,butwithoutateam,CCTV,alloftheusualdetailedcross-checkingforinconsistencies,shecan’tdoanythingelse.
She’sreachedthelimitofhercapabilities.
“Fine.”Cecile’svoiceisdry,matter-of-fact,butElincanhearthestrain.Celineraisesherkeyfobtothedooranditopenswithaclick;Elinfollowsherinside.
Itsmellsthesameassheremembers—thatparticularmustyodorofoldpaper,undisturbeddust.Again,theclutterisoverwhelming:pilesofboxesburyingotherboxes.Grimybottles,jars.Abatteredmicrofichemachine.Filingcabinetsstuffedfullofpaper.
Butdespitethemess,thechaos,shecan’thelpfeelingthatsomethingabouttheroomlookssubtlydifferent.
Cecile’swatchingher.“Issomethingwrong?”
“Idon’tknow.Doyouthinkanyonemighthavebeeninhererecently?”
“Idoubtit.Thisroomisneverreallyused.”
“Lauretoldmeyou’dplannedatthebeginningtofeaturethisaspartofthehotel.Anarchive.”
“Yes.Laurestartedcuratingitwiththearchivistbeforetheprojectgotpulled.”
“Whydiditgetpulled?”
There’sapause,asifshe’sdebatinghowtoreply.
“Lucascouldn’tmakeuphismindifitworked,”Cecilesaysfinally.“Hedecidedintheendthatitdidn’tfit,thatguestswouldn’twantthegraphicdetailsofwhatwentonhere.”
“Whatdoyoumeanby‘graphic’?”
“Someofthetuberculosistreatmentswerebasic,tosaytheleast.Peoplethoughtpatientscameheresimplyforthefresh-aircure,sittingoutontheterraces,takingadvantageofthesunlight,butthatwasonlyapartofit.”
“ButLauresaidthetreatmentwasmainlyenvironmental.”
“Notallofit.”Cecilegivesatightsmile.“Oneofthetreatmentswasapneumothorax—collapsingthelung.
Theydidthisbyeitherintroducingairintothepleuralcavity,orpermanentlycollapsingitbyremovingpartoftheribcage.Someofthemethodswereevenmorerudimentary.Inone,theyusedamallettocollapsethelungtissue.”
“Ididn’tknow.”Elincan’thelppicturingit—alurid,graphicimage.
“Alotofpeopledon’t.”Cecile’svoiceismeasured.“Itwasn’talwayssuccessful.Despitethetreatments,alotofpeoplediedhereovertheyears.IthinkLucasthoughtsomepeoplemightfinditunpalatable.”
“Doyouagree?”Elin’svoiceisclipped.Itrankles,notwhatCecile’ssayingbuthowshe’ssayingit.Lucassaid.
Lucasthought.It’sallcomingbacktohim.Hiscontrol.
“Yes.”Herexpressionisinscrutable.“Ithinkhe’sright.Theguestsmightliketheideaofstayinginanoldsanatorium,takingphotosforsocialmedia,butthedetails?Whatreallywenton?”Cecileshrugs.“I’mnotsosure.”
“Doeswhathesaysalwaysgo?”ThewordsareoutbeforeElincanstopthem.
Stupidwords,becauseofcoursehehastheveto.Heownsthisplace.Thebigdecisionsarehistomake.
Cecilelooksathersharply,eyesnarrowing.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Mentallykickingherself,Elindecidesshehastosimplyaskheroutright.There’snotimetomessaround.
“Ioverheardyou,inthecorridorwhenwecamedownfromthepenthouse.YouweretryingtopersuadeLucastotellsomeonesomething.”Elinhesitates,nervesflickeringinherchestasshewondersifshe’spushingittoofar.“Hedidn’tsoundhappyaboutit.”
Cecile’ssilent.Severalbeatspass,thenshenods.
“It’stodowiththebodythatwasfoundonthemountain.Daniel’sbody.”67
Lucas’sfriend,heworksatCURML,theUniversityCentreforForensicMedicineinLausanne.Daniel’sremainswentthere.Whathesaid…itsoundsliketherearesimilaritieswiththeothermurders.”
“Inhowhewaskilled?”
Cecilenods,herfootnudgingthematting.Tinypocketsofdustcloudtheair.
Asitclears,Elinglancesdown;asuddenjolt.Thereitisagain:theoutlineofathought;blurrededges,butit’sgonebeforeshecangraspit.
“Danielwasdismembered.”Cecile’sfeaturestense.
“WorsethanAdeleandLaure,butsimilar.Thebodywaspartlypreservedbythesnow,buthedoesn’tthinkit’srecent.”
Elindoesn’treply,deepinthought.There’sabigchancethislinkstowhat’shappenedtoAdeleandLaure,yetonethingbothersher:thiscrime,inallprobability,happenedseveralyearsago,aroundthetimeofDaniel’sdisappearance,sowhywouldtherebesuchadelayiftheywereconnected?
“Whydidn’tLucaswantyoutotellmethis?”
“Theofficialanswerwouldbethattheinformationhasn’tbeenmadepublicyet,butI’llbehonest,heisn’tthinkingstraight.He’stryingtocontainthis,butit’simpossible.”Cecile’svoiceisthinwithfrustration.“It’sgonetoofar.”
“Containit?”Elinrepeats,incredulous.
“Yes.What’shappenedhere,itcouldbedisastrousforhim,notonlyprofessionally,butpersonallytoo.Thisplaceismorethanworkforhim.Buildingthishotelhas
beenhisdreamsincehewasyoung.Hisillness,beinginandoutofthehospital…itgavehimthisdrive.”
“Hishearttroubles?”
“LikeIsaidbefore,therewereseveraloperations,complications,longrecoverytimes.Hedidn’thaveanormalchildhood.Whenhedidgobacktoschool,hehadahardtime.”
“Bullying?”
“Yes.Hedidn’tlookright,youknow?”Hertoneisbitter.“Weak,thin.Halfthechildrenteasedhimandtherestpitiedhim.”
“That’sstayedwithhim?”
“Ithinkso.Thisplace…he’sneversaidit,butIthinkit’saboutexorcisingthoseghosts.Itwastheimpossibleproject.Someplaceeveryonesaidcouldneverberesurrected.”Cecileshrugs.“Likehim.Noonethoughthe’dbecomewhathehas.”
“Apointtoprove,”Elinreplies.“It’sthesamewithIsaac.He’salwayshadthatneedtobethebest.Theoneontop.”Shefrowns.“Itprobablystemsfromaninsecuritytoo.”
“Idon’tthinkit’sexclusivetothem.Thatdesiretoproveyourself.Besomething.”AsmileplaysonCecile’slips.“Youknow,Ireadsomewhereoncethatmostmenwanttobuildamonumenttothemselves.Myexdid.
Whenhemethisnewwife,hemovedtoAustralia,builthisownhouseinthemiddleofnowhere.”Sheturns,gesturesaroundher.“Thisisit,isn’tit?Lucas’smonument.Agiant,beautiful,glassfuck-youmonumenttoallthosepeoplewhosaidhecouldn’t.”
Elindoesn’treply,takenabackbythestrengthofCecile’semotion,herprotectiveness.Itflipswhatshesawinthestairwellonitshead.Shecan’thelpseeingLucasinadifferentlight.Amorefavorablelight.
Yetsomething’snaggingatherabouthowCecile’stalkingabouthim.ThesamefeelingshehaswhensheexaminesherownfeelingsforIsaac:thatwhile
protectingthem,they’realsoexcusingthem,findinganswersfortheirshittybehaviorwhenperhapsthereshouldn’tbeany.
“Ithinkthat’swhyhe’sbeenholdingback.”Cecileglancesaroundtheroom.“Theideathatthisplacecouldfail—Idon’tthinkhecanevencontemplateit.”
Elinconsiderswhatshe’ssaid,andwhilethereasoningmakessense,itstillfeelsunconvincing.Evenifhewantstoprotectthehotel,surelyhisfirstinstinctwouldbetosharewhatheknew?
Therehastobesomethingmoretothis.
“Yousaidbefore,thatLucasandDanielwereclose.”
ThestatementseemstothrowCecile.Herfaceclosesmomentarilybeforesheshrugs.“Yes.Look,youshouldprobablyspeaktohimaboutit.”
ElinpicksuponthewayCecile’scloseddowntheconversation.Upuntilthispoint,she’sbeenopen.
Forthcoming.
There’ssomethinghere.
“Theywerestillgoodfriends,though?”
Ahesitation.Cecileflushes.“No,”shesaysfinally.“Iwouldn’tdescribethemasgoodfriends.Therelationshipinthepastfewyearswasmoreprofessionalthananythingelse.Daniel’sfirmhadworkedonseveralofLucas’shotels.”
“Butyousaidtheywereclose?”
“Aschildren,yes,butwhenLucasgotill…itchanged.Danielgotclosetomyfather.Hewasatalentedskierandmyparentsusedtowatchhimrace.IthinkLucasalwaysfelttherewasacomparisonthere.
Somethinghehadtoliveupto.Itwasoneofthosethings.Astheygotolder,theygrewapart.”
“Buttherelationshipmusthavebeensolidenoughforthemtowanttoworktogether?”
“Yes,buttobehonest,Ithinktheywerebothregrettingit.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Thereweresomearguments,thelastfewmonthsbeforeDanielwentmissing.Thestrainonthembothwasimmense—theoppositiontothebuild,thecomplaints…”Herfacelookspinched.“Acoupleofdaysbeforehewentmissing,heandLucashadafight.”
“Aboutwhat?”
“Idon’tknow.Lucashasnevergoneintodetailaboutit.”
Elinthinksaboutwhatshe’ssaid.Despitethestorybehindit,herempathyforwhatLucaswentthroughasachild,itwouldbestupidtoignorethefactthathehadapossiblemotive,howevertenuous,fornotonlyLaure’sdeathbutDaniel’stoo.
“Sowhatwasityouwerelookingfor?”Cecilechangesthesubject.“I—”
There’saloudraponthedoor,thenanother.
Cecileopensit.Awomaninherlatetwentiesisstandingoutside.She’swearingastaffuniform,herfairhairtwistedintoaloosebun,strandsfallingmessilyoverherface.
“I’msorry,”shestarts,herwordsemergingwithastrongFrenchaccent.“Idon’twanttodisturb,but…”
Herliptrembles.
“It’sfine,Sara.”Steppingforward,Cecilegentlytouchesherarm.
Elinlooksather,ahorriblefeelingoftrepidationweighingheavyinherstomach.
Something’shappened.
“It’sjust,just—”Sara’sfaceisflushed,blotchy.
“Margot.Ican’tfindher.”Anypretenseatholdingittogetherislostasshestartstocry,athroatysobthatmakesherchestheave.“Ithinkshe’smissing.Ihaven’tseenhersincelastnight.”68
Missing?”Cecilerepeats,catchingElin’seye.
Stillcrying,Saragivesatightnod.“I’vecheckedeverywhere.Ican’tfindher.”Shefolds,refoldsherhands.“Afterwhat’shappened…”
Cecilestepsforward,outintothecorridor,hermovementsjerky.Elinsensesshe’sstrugglingtokeepittogether.“Sara,Iknowit’shard,butpleasetelluswhatyouknow.”
“I’lltry,”shesays.“MargotandI,we’resharingaroom.WhenIwokeupthismorning,shewasgone.Ithoughtrightawaythatsomethingwaswrong,butItoldmyselfIwasbeingstupid,imaginingthings,thatshejustgotupearly—”Shestops;takesahiccupygulpofair.
“I’mnotsure,buthersideoftheroom…itlookslikethere’sbeenastruggle.”
“You’veaskedotherpeopleifthey’veseenher?”
“Yes,that’swhatI’vebeingdoingthismorning.Noonehas.There’sonlyafewofusleft;ifshewasabout,someonewouldhaveseenher.”
“Whataboutherphone?”Cecileasks.
“It’sgone,butshe’snotanswering.”
“Buttherearestaffinthecorridortotherooms.”
Cecilesoundshesitant,uncertain.“Noonecangoinandoutwithoutthemseeing.”
“Iknow.”Sara’seyesaredark.“Butshe’sgone.Iknowshehas.”Hervoiceisnowhigh-pitched,panicky.“I’velookedeverywhere.”
Elinstandsverystill,absorbingherwords.
It’sanotherone.Ithastobe.
Shedoesn’tlikeit.Thistiming,sosoonafterLaure…
itseemslikeit’sbecomingsomethingfrenzied,spiralingoutofcontrol.
Fearuncoilinginherstomach,shelooksatSara.“Weneedtotakealookatyourroom.Rightaway.”
???
Sara’sbedroomisonlythreedownfromhers.It’sanidenticallayout,butwithtwinbeds.
“Thisishers.”Saragesturestothebedclosesttothedoor.
Elinfollowshergaze,exchangesalookwithCecile.
Sara’sright—there’sclearevidenceofastruggle.Ivorysheets,snarledinatangledknot,havebeenrippedfromthebed.Aglasstumblerislyingonitssideonthefloor,thedribbledremainsofwaterpoolednexttoittogetherwithabook—aLivredePoche,rentatthespine.
It’sasifshe’sbeendraggedfromthebed,Elinthinks.
“Thisismyfault.”Saraputsahandtoherlip,picksatthedryskinaroundtheedges.“Ihaveproblemssleeping.
Itakepills,wearaneyemaskandearplugs.”Sheshakesherhead.“Anyoneelse,theywouldhaveheard.”
“It’snotyourfault,”Elinreplies,eyesstilltravelingaroundtheroom,findingmorethingsnearMargot’sbed
—acreasedbookmarkseveralfeetawayfromthesheet,ashoulderbagtippedonitsside.“Wedon’tknowwhat’shappened,notyet.”
Sararubsatherswolleneyes.“Butthat’snottrue,isit?”Hervoiceisbrittle,accusing.“WhoeverkilledAdelehasMargot,too,haven’tthey?”
Elinkeepshertoneneutral.“LikeIsaid,wecan’tassumeanything.”
Buteventoherears,herwordssoundweak.Hollow.
Lookingatthesceneinfrontofher,she’sprettycertainaboutwhat’shappened.
EitherthekillertookMargotinthenight,beforetheyabductedLaure,orjustafter.Eitherway,itdoesn’tlookgood.
Saraturnsaway,shouldersheaving.
Elinreachesout,lightlytouchesherarm.“Sara,Iknowit’shard,butI’dliketogothroughyourmovementsyesterday,beforeyouwenttobed.”
Takingadeepbreath,composingherself,Sarasays:
“Wehaddinnerwitheveryoneelse,inthediningroom.
Satforawhile,chatted.”Shegivesaweaksmile.“It’salleveryone’sdoingatthemoment.Talking.Drinking.Noonewantstogotobed.”
“Andthen?”Elinprompts.
“Wecameupstairs,backtotheroom.IwatchedsomethingonNetflix,Margotwasreading.”Herwordscomeoutrapidly,stillheavilyaccented.Elinhastolistencarefullytounderstandher.“Weswitchedthelightoffatabouteleventhirty.”
“Andthisiswhatyoufoundwhenyouwokeup?”
Saranods.“Ihaven’ttouchedanything.Igotdressed,camestraightdownstairs,startedlookingforher.”
“Andwhenwasthat?”
“Closetoten.Isleptin.”
Elinworksitthroughinhermind.Ten.ThatmeantitwaspossiblethatMargotwasabductedaftertheincidentwithLaureinthepenthouse.Aslimpossibilitygiventhefactthatmorepeoplewouldhavebeenaroundatthattime,butnotimpossible.
Themorelikelyoption,however,wasthatshewasabductedovernight.Yetonethingaboutthattheorydoesn’tstackup:therewasamemberofstaffactingassecurity,outsidetheroomsallnight.
Howwouldthekillerhavegotpasthim?
Openingthedoor,Elinwalksdownthecorridortowardhim.He’syoung;hisfacestillchubby,faintpockmarksscarringhisnose,hischeeks.
“Iseverythingokay?”heasks,buttheignoranceimpliedbyhisquestionisbeliedbythenervousglancetowardSara’sroom.
Heknowswhat’sgoingon.Heknowsandhe’sscared.
“Wereyouherealllastnight?”
“Mostofit.”Hemoistenshislipswithhistongue.“Icameonjustaftereleven.NoonecamedownthecorridorwhileIwashere.”Hegesturesatthesilverflasknexttohim.“Thatstuff,it’slikerocketfuel.”
“You’resure?Youdidn’thearanything?”
“Nothing.Onlyguests,staff,comingbacktotheirrooms.”
Elinpressesherforefingerintoherpalm.Think,Elin,think.Howcouldtheattackergetintotheroomwithoutbeingseen?
CouldthekillerbesomeoneMargotorSaraknew?
PerhapsMargotlettheminunawares,meaningtheattackerwasabletogetintotheroomwithoutraisingsuspicion.
ElinthankshimandgoesbacktoSara’sroom,scansthespaceagain.
AmImissinganything?
HergazesettlesontheFrenchdoors.
Shecarefullymakesherwaytowardthemandstopsjustshortofthedoorsthemselves,bendsdown.Tippingherheadatanangle,shelooksatthefloor.
Herpulsequickens.Shecanseethefaint,smearedghostofafootprint,wherethewetsoleprinthasdried,leavingaresidue.
Shestraightenstoexaminethedoorframe.Therearesmallmarksinthewood—they’djimmieditopen.
That’showtheygotin.
Shakingherhead,shefeelsasurgeoffrustration.Theprecautionsthey’dtakentokeeppeoplesafehadmadeit
easierforthekiller,hadn’tthey?Bymovingeveryoneontothelowerfloors,itwaseasiertoclimbup.Easiertoescape.
“Foundsomething?”Cecilecallsfromtheothersideoftheroom.
Elingivesasharpnod.“Ithinktheycameinthroughthesedoors.”
Assheopensthem,freezingairfillstheroom.Withitcomesthehigh-pitchedwhistleofthewind,abitterblastofsnow.
Allshecanseeiswhite;thetreesinthedistancearebleachedbysnow.
Whenshescanstheterrace,shecanseestraightawaythatthesnowhasbeendisturbed—it’scompacted,abumpy,unevenlayer.Eventhoughfreshsnowhasfallenontop,startedtofillinsomeofthemarks,shecanstillseedefinitecompressions.
It’shardtomakeoutwhatitis—notfootprints.
Somethingbigger,wider.
Analyzingtheblurredoutline,shetakesintheshape.
Themarksstarttoresolve.
It’stheimprintofsomethingbig,heavy:abody.
Margotwasdragged.
Elinprocessesit:ifshewasdraggedoutoftheroom,thisimpliesshewassedatedtoo.
Asharpjabofrealization:Theydidn’thavelong.
Iftheywantedtofindher,theyhadtobequick.Basedonthelasttwokillings,thepotentialescalation,thekillerwouldprobablyactfast.Ruthlessly.
Shetakesadeepbreath,turnsbacktofaceCecileandSara.Beforesheevenstartstospeak,Sarashakesherhead,astranglednoisecomingfromherthroat.
“Youthinkthey’vetakenher,don’tyou?”Sheburiesherfaceinherhands.“Thepersonwho…”Sobspullatherchest,shoulders.
Cecileputsanarmaroundher.“Look,let’sgodowntothelounge,sitforawhile.You’vehadashock.”GlancingatElin,shemouths:“Isthatallright?”
Elinnods,hergazealreadysnappingbacktothesnowoutside,andthecuriousflattenedpatternofcompressions.
Ifthey’dgoneoutthisway,themarkswouldn’tstopthere,wouldthey?
Butthethought—obvious,tooobvious—bothersher.
Surelythekillerwouldn’thavebeensostupidastoleaveatrail?Awayoftrackingthemdown?
Unlesstheydidn’thaveachoice.
Perhapsthekillerhadneededtoimprovise,liketheyhadinthepenthouse.It’spossiblethey’dplannedtogetMargotoutthroughthecorridor,butsomethinghadgonewrong.
Theotherexplanation,onethat’smorelikely,isthatthekillerisgettingcareless.Eitherway,it’salead.
SomethingthatmightdirectthemtoMargot.69
Ittakeslongerthanshethinkstomakeherwaybacktoherroom,pullonhercoat.Herfingersfumbleovertheroompass,herzipper,whilehermindchurns.
Isthisagoodidea?ShouldIevenconsidergoingoutalone?ShouldIspeaktoBerndtfirst?
Elinimmediatelydiscountsthethought:contactingBerndt,talkinghimthroughit,willnotonlywasteprecioustimebutriskhimforbiddinghertolookforMargotaltogether.Sheknowsthatifshedoesn’tcontacthim,shecan’tbeaccusedofexplicitlydefyinganyinstructions.
PickingupsomeglovestogetherwithseveraloftheplasticbagsLucasprovided,shepullsopentheFrenchdoors,makingherwayoutontotheterrace.
Theoutsideworldgrabsher:herbootsimmediatelysinkingintothethickpowdersnow,thewindpullingherhairaroundherface.
Sheexaminestheglassbalustradeinfrontofher.
CanIgetoverit?
It’snotparticularlyhigh,butitwon’tbeeasy.
Sheliftsupherleg,andtriestoscrambleoverit,butimmediatelygetscaught,oneleghangingover,theotherleftbehind.
Elintriesagain.Shedoesitthistime,buthoistingherselfupandovertakeseffort—thestrengthofbothherarmsandherthighs.
HowwouldthekillerhavegotMargotoverthis?
Sedated,she’dhavebeenadeadweight.
Safelyontheotherside,Elinexhaleshardfromtheexertion.She’smadeonededuction,howeversmall:thekillerhastobestrong,shethinks,watchingherbreathemergeaswhitevapor,quicklybeingdissolvedtonothingbythewind.Capableofliftingsomeonequicklyandeasily.
Snowisfallingheavily.It’sclaustrophobic.
Suffocating.Shecanbarelyseemorethanafewfeetahead,nothingvisibleinthewhitenessexcepttheoutlineofthefrostedtrees,thegeometricalshapesofLeSommet’ssignagebeyond.
Theweatherforecastwasright—thestormisgettingworse.
Steelingherself,shestepsforward,thenpauses,hearingalowrumble.
Arumblethat’sfollowedbyanenormousboom,reverberatingthroughtheair.
There’saroar,asudden,arcticbreeze.
HermindimmediatelylurchestowhatWillhadtoldherearlier:anavalanche.
She’sreadthatyouhearonebeforeyouseeit.Asthesnowandicefalldownthemountain,theyexertahugeforceontheair,compressingitintoaterrifyinglowwhistle.
Elincanhearthatnow,adeafeningpiercingsound,cuttingrightthroughher.
Panicbiting,shesurgesforwardtowardthehotel,startstoretracehersteps,butit’safutiledecision:shehasnoideawhethershe’sheadingintothepathoftheavalancheorleavingitbehind.
ButwithinsecondsElinknowsshemadetherightcall.
It’sjustmissedme.I’mstillstanding.
Butshe’sswallowedbywhatcanonlybetheaftermath:awhitecloudofsnowthat’sbeenkickedintotheairfromtheforceofthefall.
Tiny,glitteringparticleshitherface.It’sbitter,stinging.
Blinking,shewipesthesnowaway,butshecan’tseeathing;onlymoresnow.
It’lltakeafewminutestosettle,forhertoseeexactlywheretheavalanchefell.
Heartpounding,shewaits,terrified,forthenextominoussound,thenextrumblethatmightcomeevencloser.
Butnothingcomes—onlythecloudofsnow,glimmeringparticlesstillsuspendedandfallingslowlythroughtheair.Elinbreathesslowlyinandout,butshe’sshaky,wired,adrenalinestillblazingthroughherlimbs.
Withinafewminutes,thesnowsettles,theairclearingslightly.Takinganotherdeepbreath,sheturns,triestoworkouttheavalanche’spath.Shecanseerightawaythatit’sonherright:afewhundredyardsorsoaway,inthedirectionoftheroad.
Thesmooth,pristineexpanseofsnowthatshe’sspentthelastfewdayslookingathasdisappeared.Initsplace:massive,jaggedchunksofsnow,oneontopoftheother,piledovertenfeethigh.
Despitethedistance,shecanseewhatitpickedupasitthundereddownthemountain:rocksandtrees,wholetrunksprotrudingfromthemassofsnow.
Shetiltsherheadup,takesinthetrailofutterdestruction.It’sasifarakehasbeenpulleddowntheface,churningupeverythinginitspath.It’shardtobelievethatnaturecanbesobrutallyviolent.
Turning,Elinlooksahead,wonderingifthedriftingsnowfromtheavalanchehasfilledinanytrailthekillermighthaveleft,makingitimpossibletofollow.
Shepondersheroptions:thesensiblethingtodowouldbetogoback,butifshedoesthat,shelosesanychance,howeversmall,oftracingthekiller’spath,especiallyasmoresnowisforecast,snowthatwoulddefinitelyfillinanytracks.
Morethanthat,Elinknowsthatbecauseofthisnewavalanche,thechanceofthepolicegettingtothemanytimesoonisevenslimmernow.Thatmeansit’sevenmorevitalthatshetakecontrolofthesituation.
Shemakesasnapdecision:shehastogoon.HastotrytofindMargot.
Asshestepsforward,thewindgusts,strippinganylingeringsnowfromtheair.
Pullingherscarfupsoitcovershermouthandnose,shewalksleft,towardSaraandMargot’sroom.She’scarefultokeepseveralyardsoutsothatwhenshecomestotheirtracksshewon’tcompromisethem.
It’shardwork—herbreathcomingheavy,thesnowsodeepit’sgrazingherknees—butshekeepsgoinguntilshe’sparallelwiththeterraceleadingfromMargot’sroom.
Asshecomestoastop,sheexhaleshard—onebigcloudofbreath.Relief.Thedriftingsnowfromtheavalanchehasfilledinsomeoftheindentationsinthesnow,butaroundtheterracetherearestillclearmarkssurroundingawider,smootherareaofflattenedsnow.
Shecanstillfollowthetracks.
Whensheglancesdown,Elinrealizesthathertheoryisright:thetracksarestillconsistentwithsomeonebeingdragged.Takingseveralphotographs,shefollowsthemarks,hergazefirmlyfixedonthesnow.Asfarasshecansee,there’snoblood,novisiblefibersordebris.
Themarkscontinuetowardthefrontofthehotel.
Thepatternisuniform,confirmingwhatshealreadyassumed:whoeverhaddraggedherwasstrong.Strongenoughtopullherinonesmoothmotion.
Thetrailwindsaroundthesideofthehotelforanotherfortyorfiftyfeetthenstopsabruptlyinfrontofthehotelentrance.
Elindouble-checkstomakesureitdoesn’tcarryoninstead—steppingback,shewalksseveralyardspasttheentrance,butthere’snothingthere.Thesnowisthick,undisturbed.
Itleavesherwithonlyoneconclusion:thekillermusthavetakenMargotintothehotel.There’snootherexplanation.
Shepicksherwaytowardthehotelentrance.Thedoorsslideopenautomatically,sensingherpresence.
Hergazeflickerstothefloorofthelobby.
Toolate.
There’snoevidenceofanydriedfootprintsliketherewereintheroom.Thepolishedconcreteisuniformlygleaming:it’sbeencleaned.
Italmostmakeshersmile:despiteeverythingthat’shappened,oneofthestaffhadbeeninstructedtocleanthefloor.Ritual,routine,itrunsdeep.Businessasusual.
Sowherecouldtheyhavegone?
ThehotelhadbeensearchedwhenLaurewentmissing.There’snowhereself-contained,privateenoughforthekillertobehiding,letaloneholdingthevictims.
Elincanfeelherhearthammering,acutelyawareofthepressureweighingdownonher.Sheneedstosolvethis.Time’sticking.
Sowhataremynextstepsgoingtobe?
Theycouldsearchthehoteltoptobottom,butthere’snoguaranteethey’llfindher.
It’sthenithitsher:somethingstupid,obvious.
Margot’sphone.
SarahadconfirmedthatMargot’sphonewasgone.
There’sonetentativeconclusionElincandrawfromthat:Margotmighthaveitwithher.Ifshedoes,there’sapossibilityoftrackinghermovements.
Elinturns,abouttogointothehotel,whensheseessomethinginoneofthethird-floorwindows.Shesteadieshergaze.
There’ssomeonestandingthere,lookingdown,facetiltedtowardtheglass.
Shiftingposition,shefindsabetterangle,wherethelightisn’treflectingquitesostrongly.
Shecanseethefigureclearlynow:adarktop,amopoftousledblondhair.
Lucas.
He’swatchingher,hisgazefixed,unmoving.70
Margot’sphone?”Saratucksaloosestrandofhairbehindherear.“Youthinkshe’sgotitonher?”
Elinleansbackinherchair.“It’spossible.Ifshehas,theremightbeawayoftrackingit.”SheknowsthatthereisanappcalledFindMyiPhone.Evenifthephonehadbeenswitchedoff,orit’srunoutofbattery,itwouldshowthelastlocationwhereithadasignal.
Sheglancesaroundthelounge.Agroupofstaffissittingseveraltablesaway.They’retalkingamongthemselves,butshecansensetheireyesonher,theunaskedquestions.
Cecilelooksather,herexpressionunreadable.“Whatifthekiller’sjustgotridofit?”
“Thenwe’rescrewed.”Elinforcesasmile.“Buteitherway,wehavetotry.”Shiftingposition,herlegjoltsthetable,sendshercoffeeflying.Theliquidtracksacrossthepalewood,alreadydrippingovertheedgeandontothefloor.“Shit.”
Cecilejumpsup,goestothebar.Bringingbackacloth,shespreadsitoverthespill.Shesitsdown,lookscloselyatElin.“Iseverythingallright?”
“Withme?”Elinfrowns.“I’mfine.Itwasashock,butitwasn’tthatclose.Ithinkitmoreorlessmetthepathofthelastavalanche.”
“Iknow,butafterwewenttoSara’sroom,Ididn’trealizeyouweregoingtogooutsideintheseconditions,start…”Shetrailsoff.
Elintenses.“Itwasarisk,Iknow,butIhadto.”Shefeelsafamiliarwarmthchasingupherface.“Iwantedtolookoutside,explorethescene.”Hervoiceislouder,shrillerthansheintended.
Besideher,Sarabitesdownonherlip,looksaway.
“Ijust”—Cecilehesitates,stillmoppingupthespill,buttheliquidislongabsorbed—“Ijustdon’tknowifitwastherightthingtodo.”Herfacetwitches.
Elinlooksather,uncertain.
What’sshegettingat?
Shehastheuncomfortablesensationofmissingsomething:alayertotheconversationsomehowvitaltohercomprehension.
Butbeforeshecanreply,Cecileabruptlystandsup,takesthesoddenclothbacktothebar.
Decidingtoignoreit,ElinturnstoSara.“DoyouhaveMargot’siCloudlog-in?”
“Idon’tknowit,butImightbeabletofindit.I’mprettysureshekeepsherpasswordsinherdiary.”
“Notexactlysecurityconscious,then?”
“No.”Sarasmilesweakly.“Wewerejokingaboutittheotherday.HerAppleaccountgothackedsosheneededtochangeherpassword,butthenewonewastoohardtoremember,soshewroteitdown.”
“Doyouknowwhereherdiaryis?”
“Whosediary?”Ceciletakesaseatbesidethem.
Sarahesitates.HereyeslockonElin’s,aflickerofunderstandingpassingbetweenthem.
“Margot’s,”shesaysclearly.“Shekeepsitinherbag.
I’llshowyou.”
???
Thisfeelsweird—”SaraputsMargot’sbagonthebed,startsrummagingthroughit.“LikeI’minvadingherprivacy.”
“Iknow,”Elinsayssoftly.“Butweneedtodoeverythingwecantofindher.”ShewatchesSarapullthecontentsfromthebag—purse,hairgrips,ahalf-empty
bottleofwater,chewinggum.Thefinalthingtoemergeisaleather-boundnotebook.
“Thisisit.Shedoesn’tuseanactualdiary.”Afterflickingthroughthepages,Sarastopsnearthefrontofthebook.“There.”Shepointstothetopofthepage.“Ithinkthisisthepassword.”
Elinreachesforherphone,andfindstheiCloudFindMyiPhonefunction.“Doyouknowhere-mail?”
“Givemeasecond—”Sarascrollsrapidlythroughherownphone.“MarMassen@hotmail.com.”
“Andthepassword?”Elinreadsitoffthenotebook,simultaneouslytappingitintothesecondboxinthemiddleofthescreen.
Thebluehomescreenresolvesintoafaintoutlineofacompass,whichinturnbecomesawhitegrid.Thegridmorphsintoamap,zoomingintoshowroadnames,landmarks.Withinseconds,agreendotappears.
We’vegotsomething.
Elincanfeeltheraisedbeatofherheart.Rapidcontractions.Hoveringoverthegreendotwithherfinger,shepressesdown.
Alineoftext:Margot’siPhone.Belowthat:40
minutesago.
“You’velocatedherphone?”
“Yes.”
Sarastaresatthescreen.“It’ssomewherehere,isn’tit?Somewhereinthehotel.”71
Canyoupinpointwhere?”Narrowinghereyes,Elinexaminesthemaponthephone,strugglingtoorientthehotellayoutinherhead.
“Ithinkso.”Cecilepointstothemiddleofthescreen.
“Youcan’tseeroom-leveldetail,buttheareaofthehotelisnearthespa,thegeneratorrooms.”
Aflickerofexcitement:progress.“DoIneedaspecialpasstoaccessit?”
“No.TheoneI’vegivenyoucoverseverywhereinthebuilding.”There’saslightedgetoCecile’svoice.Elincantellshewantstosaysomethingmore,isdebatingwhethersheshould.
Finally,shespeaks.“You’resureyouwanttogonow?”
Abriefrippleofemotionmovesthroughherfeatures.
Elincan’ttellwhatitis.
“Yes.”Elinlooksather,frustrated.Whythelackofurgency?
Cecileischewingherlip.“DoyoumindifIcallLucas,speaktohimaboutit?”
Elinshrugs,tensing.Sheknowsshe’snotdoingaverygoodjobathidingherannoyance,butshe’dneverbeenanygoodatdiplomacy.Shealwaysletthingspickawayather,fester,tookthemsodeepinside,theyimprintedthemselvesonherface.
Blueprintsofemotion.
Cecile’sspeakingintothephoneinrapidFrench.Afewmomentslater,sheturnsback,slipsherphoneintoherpocket,herexpressiontroubled.
“Lucasdoesn’tthinkyoushoulddothisonyourown.”
Hermouthistight.“Putyourselfinavulnerable
situation.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Elinfalters.
“Hethinksit’stoorisky.”Cecile’sspeakingslowly,asifshe’sspeakingtosomeonestupid.“I—”Shebreaksoff,flushing.“Look,it’shardtosaythis,butIagreewithhim.You’vebeenahugehelp,butafterwhat’shappenedtoLaure,toyou,you’reprobablynotintherightframeofmindtotakeonanythingnow.Ithinkweshouldwaitforthepolice.”
“Thepolice?”Elinrepeats,incredulous.“Butweknowthey’renotcoming,notsoon,anyway.”Shecurlsupherhandunderthetable,squeezeshardsothatshecanfeelhernailsnudgingagainstherpalm.Awarning:Don’tloseit.Don’tsaysomethingyoumightregret.
“Soyou’vecalledBerndt?ToldhimaboutMargot?”
Elinshakesherhead.“Notyet.”
Cecilelooksbackather,hergazesteadfast,neutral.
Somethingloadediscarriedintheglance.“I’msorry.”
Herpalmsareraised,apologetic.“I’mgoingtohavetobehonest.Ididn’twanttobetheonetosaythis,butLucas…he’sfoundoutaboutyourjob.”
“Myjob?”Hermouthisdry.Theyknow.
Cecilenods.“Lucasfoundoutearlierthatyou’reonextendedleave.He’suncomfortablewithyoucarryingoninthecircumstances.Youdidn’tmentionit.Ifyou’dhavetoldus,explained…”
“Butthatdoesn’taffectmyabilitytohelpyou.”Elin’sheartislunginginherchest:hard,knockingthuds.
They’vefoundmeout,exposedmeasafraud.
“I’msorry,”Cecilerepeats,droppinghergaze.“It’sLucas’scall.”There’sagrimfinalitytohertone.
Elinglancesdownatthefloor,tryingtotampherangerdown.Familiardoubtsstartcrowdingherhead,jostlingforposition.
Aretheyright?Ismyjudgmentflawed?
Shestandsup.“I’mgoingtomyroom.”
Shewalksaway,concentratingcarefullyoneachstep,asifanybreakinrhythmwouldshatterherself-control,forceherbacktotheroomfullofangryrecriminations.72
Calmdown,”Willmurmurs.“Justtellmeexactlywhatshesaid.”
Pacing,shewalksdownthelengthoftheirroomtowardthewindowandbackagain.“Thatshedidn’tthinkIshouldcarryon,lookforMargot.ThatI’m‘notintherightframeofmind.’”Shefumbles,thememoryofCecile’swordsmakingherfaceburn.“Theyfoundout,Will.ThatI’monleave…”
Willreachesforherarm.“Perhapsthey’reright.
Maybeit’sbettertowaitforthepolice.”
“Thepolice?There’sbeenanotheravalanche,Will.
Theyaren’tgoingtogettousanytimesoon,notunlessthewinddropsandtheycangetahelicopterup.”
Hiswordsareslow,careful.“WhatdidBerndtsay?”
“Ihaven’tcalledhim.”Elindoesn’tmeethiseye.“Heprobablywon’tapproveofmetryingtofindMargot,notwithoutbackup,andIdon’tknowhowmuchheknowsaboutmyjob.Hecouldpullmefromthewholething.”
Shehesitates.“Inanycase,itdoesn’twork,waitingforthemtoarrive.ThekillermighthavehurtMargotbythen,andit’sarisk—thekillermightseethepolicearrive.We’lllosetheelementofsurprise.”
“You’reright.”Willpinchesthebridgeofhisnose,pushinguphisglasses.“Ijustkeepthinkingaboutwhathappenedinthepenthouse.Theclosecallwiththeavalancheearlier.”Hisvoicewobbles.“Ifanythingweretohappentoyou…”
“I’llbefine.Careful.”Elinpullshimtowardher.“Will,Iwouldn’tdothisifIdidn’tthinkitwasright.Thissituation’sgonebeyondanythingIimagined.Iwon’ttakeanyunnecessaryrisks.”
“Fine,”hesaysabruptly,makingherlookupinsurprise.“Lookforher,butwhateveritisyou’replanning,you’renotgoingalone.Youhaven’tstoppedsincethismorning.You’retired,haven’teatenanything.”
Shepullsaway,takenaback.Ishedoubtingher?LikeCecileandLucas?
“Will,I’mtrainedforsituationslikethis.Whathappenedbeforewasdifferent.Iwasn’texpectingit,myjudgmentwasskewedbecauseofmyrelationshipwithLaure,butwiththis,I’montheoffensive.Iknowtheprecautionstotake.”
“Elin,thereisn’tanymoretoit,okay?Ijustdon’twantyoudoingitonyourown.”
Shedoesn’tspeakforseveralseconds.Whenshedoes,hervoiceishesitant.“You’resayingyouwanttocomewithme?”
“Yes.You’renotgoingwithoutme.Notthistime.”
Elinforcesasmile,butahorriblesenseoftrepidationsettlesoverher.Shecantellthey’reclose:shecanfeelitbuilding—atension,aquickeningintheair.73
Seeanything?”Willsaysinalowvoice,footstepsringingoutagainstthemarblefloor.
“Nothingsofar.”Elinwalksfartherintothereceptionareaofthespa,butthere’snosignanyone’sbeenthere.Nothing’sdisturbed,outofplace.Eventhemagazinesbeneaththetablearestackedinaperfect,uniformpile.
Leaningover,shescansthereceptiondesk,butit’salmostempty—onlythecomputerkeyboard,theflat-screenmonitor,aleggyplantinawhitevaseontheleft.
Theairisfilledwiththesamemixtureofaromasfromthefirsttimeshewasthere—mintandeucalyptus,minglingwiththebleached-outscentofcleaningproducts.
Amemoryflickerstolife—Laure’stourofthespa.Elinblinksbacktearsasshepicturesherface,hersmile;itgivesherarenewedsenseofpurpose:ThisisforLaureasmuchasitisforMargot.
“Let’strythechangingroomsnext.”Willwalkspasther,lookingillateaseasheglancesaroundhim.
“Okay.”ThiswastheareatheiPhonelocatorhadpinpointed—towardthepool,thegeneratorrooms.Butastheypushthroughthedoors,thechangingrooms,too,appearempty.Thewhitetilesarepolishedandgleaming,thedoorsofthecubiclespulledclosed.
Itdoesn’tstopthemchecking,though.Startingfromtheleft,theysystematicallysearcheachcubicle.Ityieldsnothing:there’snobodythere,notraceofanydisturbance.
“Poolnext?”Elintriestoinjectsomeenthusiasmintohervoice,butshe’sfeelingdoubtfulthatthey’llfind
anything.
Chancesarethekillerhadsimplyditchedthephonesomewherenearhere.Thelocationthey’dfoundonthetrackermightbemeaningless.
Willwalksaheadofher,trackingaroundtheedgeofthepool.“Nothing.”Heaudiblyexhales.
He’sright:thepoolisstill,thewaterstreakedwithflickeringlight.Thefloorisdry;nodampimprintsoffeet,orsplashmarks.
Elinnods,despondent.There’sonlyoneplaceinthisarealefttotry:themaintenanceroom.
Sheheadsbackintothechangingroom,Willfollowingbehind.SheknowsfromtheCCTVthattheaccessdoorisonthefarwall,thedoorLauremusthaveusedtoenterthechangingroomtowatchher.
Theyfinditeasilyenough—awhitemetaldoorhalfwayalongthebackwall.Elinholdsthefobuptothepanelbythedooranditopenswithaclick.
Asshestepsinside,she’shitwithanimpossibletangleofmetalarteriesstreakingacrosstheceiling,thefloor—ablockymassofmachineryandpiping.Thespaceisbiggerthansheimagined.Labyrinthine.Itprobablystretchesthefulllengthofboththechangingroomandthepoolarea.
There’saconstant,dullhumming;aneeriemechanicalheartbeat,onlyenhancedbythechemical,vaguelyindustrialsmell.
ShelooksatWill.“Let’sstaytogether.I’llgo—”
Butshedoesn’tgettofinishhersentence.
Everythinggoesdarkasthey’replungedintoanimpenetrable,liquidblackness.
Elinscrabblesforthedoor,theswitchbesideit.
Pressinghard,shefeelsitgivebeneathherfingers,butnothinghappens:thelightdoesn’tcomeon.
Ahorrible,gnawingsenseofdreadcomesoverher.
Sheturns,disoriented,analarminherheadbeginningtosound.
“Yourphone,”Willurges.“Usetheflashlight.”
Elinfumblesinherpocket,pullsitout.Sheflicksthescreenwithanupwardmotiontofindtheflashlightfunction.
Itcomeson,butthelightispitiful:hardlyenoughtoilluminateherhand.
Willpullsherback.“Elin,wecan’tdothis.Wecan’tseeathing.”Hisvoiceisstrained.“Someone’sdonethisdeliberately.Idon’tlikeit.”
Elinmovestheflashlighttohisface.Thenarrowpocketoflightpicksuptheshadowsunderhiseyes,theslicksheenofsweatonhisforehead.
Ishouldn’thavebroughthim.He’spanicking.
“Yougoback.I’mgoingtokeepsearching.”Shelowershervoicetoawhisper.“Ifsomeonehasdonethisonpurpose,itmeanswe’reclose.”
Themusclesinhisneckvisiblytighten.“Notwithoutyou.”
Theyinchforward,steppinglightly,carefully,followingthelineofthewall,butthehugebulkofthemachinerymakesithardtonavigate.Theyhavetokeepalert,constantlyadjustingtheirpath.
Eachmachineseemstomakeadifferentnoise:somechurning,whirring,otherslikeaninsectflying,thehummingoffranticwings.
Afewstepsonandthespacewidens,butnotbymuch.
Elincanmakeoutseveralnarrowcorridorsweavingbetweenthemachinery.
Elinraisesherarm,movesthephonearoundinacircle.Thelightilluminatesthemetalboxingaroundthemachinery.
There’snothinghere.
She’sabouttostartmovingagainwhen,somewhereinfrontofher,there’sanoise.Thesoundstartlesher,sendsherphonecrashingtothefloor.
Bendingdown,shefumbles,picksitup.It’sintact;thelightisstillglowing
Shepivots,abouttospeaktoWillwhenshehearsanothersound:asoftscrape.
Elinturnsthephonesothebeamispositionedinfrontofher.Intheweak,dullglowofthelight,shecanmakeoutashapeonthefloor—afigure.
Steadyingthebeam,shesucksinherbreath.
Margot.
She’slyingonthefloor,huddledinasemifetalposition,legscurledupbeneathher.HerheadistippedawayfromElinsoshecan’tmakeoutherface.
Therearenoothersounds,nomovement,butevenso,shekeepsmovingtheflashlightinacircle,walkingafewyardspastMargottoseeifanyone’sthere,intheshadowsbeyond.
Noone.
Elinexhalesslowly,heavily,relieved.
It’spossiblethisissimplyaholdingplace.Ifso,theremightbeachancetogetMargotawaybeforethekillerreturns.
Crossingthespacebetweenthem:one,twoyards,shekeepsthelightfocusedonMargot.Thisclose,shecanseeherwristsandanklesarebound.Aroughpieceoffabricispulledtautbetweenherlips.
Willstaysback,intheshadows,lookingaround.
ElinsetsthephonedownonthefloorwiththelightfacingupandcrouchesdownbesideMargotsoshecanseeherface.“Margot,it’sElin.”
Margotlooksupather,hereyesempty,vacant.Herfaceissmearedwithdirt—patchyblackstreaksonherforeheadandcheeks.
“Margot,you’reokaynow.We’regoingtogetyouout.”
Butshemakesnoresponse.There’snosignMargot’sheardher.Shejustcontinuestostare,withthosevacanteyes.
She’sinshock.Eitherthat,orshe’sstillsedated.
Elinpicksupthephone,directsitatMargot’sfeet,glancingattheknotsaroundherankles.“I’mgoingtountiethese,andwe’llgetyoubackupstairs.”
Butallatonce,there’smovement:amovementthat’simpossiblewithhowshe’sbound.
Margotstrikesout,kickingatElin’sknees.
Elin’slegscollapsebeneathher.
Unabletorightherself,shehitsthefloorhard,ashockwavetravelingthroughherthighs,buttocks,vertebrae.
Herphonecrashestotheground,asplinteringofplastic,butitstayson,theilluminationenoughtodimlylightthespacebetweenthem.
Elincriesout,triestolookup,butthesharpjagsofpainmovingthroughherlowerhalfaremakingherdizzy,hervisionblurry.
Whenhergazesteadies,shefindsMargotstandingoverher,herbodytensed,poised.Thetiesarehangingloosearoundherwrists,ankles.
Foramoment,Elincan’tworkoutwhat’sgoingon.
HasMargotmistakenmeforsomeoneelse?Herattacker?
Thenithitsherwithsickeningclarity.74
Elinscramblestoherfeet.Panicked,sherearsup,takesseveralstepsback.
I’vegotthiswrong,again.Allmytheories,ideas,aboutLucas,Isaac,they’rewrong.
HereyesshifttowardthetieshanginglimparoundMargot’swristsandankles.Shewasn’tproperlytied:theknotswerelooseenoughforhertosimplypullthemfree.
Thiswholething…itwasasetup.
“You.Youdidthis.”Elincanhardlygetthewordsout.
Herheadfeelsleaden,unbalanced.
Margotdoesn’treply.ShesimplylooksatElin,hereyesempty,unreadable.
DreadswellsinElin’schest:there’snotraceoftheawkward,unsurepersonshemetjustafewdaysago:hunched,ashamedofherbody.Margot’sstandingtall—
herfullheight,oversixfeet.Herstrength,hermusculature,isclearlyvisible.
It’spossible,isn’tit?Shecouldhavedonethis.
Abductedpeople.Killedthem.
Margotreachesdown,grabsthephone.ShepointsitatElin’sface.Thelightisblinding,dazzlingher.
Where’sWill?
Elinblinks,triestoshakethesearingbrightspotaway.
“Yes,”Margotfinallyreplies.“Itwasme.”Hervoiceiscold,emotionless,allwarmthstrippedoutofit.
“Nooneabductedyou,didthey?Thiswasatrap,likethemessagefromLaure.Youplannedthewholething.”
Elin’smindgropesbackward,spoolingthroughtheeventsofthepastfewdays,tryingtofindconnections.
WasanyofwhatMargottoldmetrue?
IsaacandLaure’srelationship?Laure’saltercationwithLucas?She’dbeensogullible.SwallowedMargot’sanecdoteswhole,withoutquestion.
Margotreadsherhesitationcorrectly,acoldhalfsmileplayingonherlips.“Don’tworry.Youmadethesamemistakesanyonewould,humanmistakes.Theegoalwayswins.It’saweaknessineveryone,thedesiretoknowthemost,bethehero,theonetosavetheday.It’swhyyoudidthejobyoudid.”
Despitehershock,herfear,Elinfeelsasurgeofanger.
HowdareMargotjudgeher?
Margottakesanothersteptowardher.
Forthefirsttime,Elincanseeaknifeinherhand,thebladeglintingintheflashlight.Shefeelssweatpricklingherback,aslowtricklebetweenhershoulderblades.
Hermindraces:Where’sWill?What’shedoing?
“Idon’tunderstand,”shesays,playingfortime.
“What’sallthisabout?”
“Thetruth.”Margot’svoiceisrobotic.“Thisplaceispoison.Itshouldn’thaveopenedagain.”Shetakesanotherstepforward,nowonlyinchesawayfromElin.
“I’msorry.Youweren’tmeanttobeinvolved.”
Elinstiffens.It’schillinghowmatter-of-factMargotis,eveninherheightenedstate.She’scold,mechanical.Elinisanobstacle,sosheneedstoberemoved.
“Margot,itdoesn’thavetobelikethis.Youdon’thavetohurtme,oranyoneelse.Wecanendthishere.”
Butit’sasifMargotcan’thearher.Inonesmoothmotion,sheraisesherhand,drawstheknifehigh,herfeaturesblank,expressionless.She’slikeanautomaton:nothing’sgoingtostophernow.
Elinrecoils,herbreathingshallow.Herheadstartstospin.
“Please,Margot,no…”
Margotlurchesforward.Theactionissharp,decisive,thebladecuttingcleanlythroughtheair.
Elintwiststotheside,theknifeonlynarrowlymissingherface.
Butthemovementdoesn’tthrowMargot—shespringsforward,makingeasyworkofthespacethat’sopenedupbetweenthem.
It’snowthatWillmakeshismove:ablurofmotion.
Leapingforward,heshovesMargotsideways.Thephonericochetsfromherhand,hittingthefloor.
Thistime,they’replungedintototaldarkness.
Silence,thenElinhearsasickeningcrack,thedullthudofsomethingstrikingthefloor.
There’sastruggle:movement,scuffling,grunts,thesoundoffabricripping,tearing.Alowmoan.Another,softerthud;somethingslidingacrossthefloor.
Onlyafewmomentslater,anothersound:footsteps,heavythudsinthedarkness,laboredbreaths.
Elin’sheartlurches,aslick,oilydreadlooseningherstomach.
Sheknowsrightawaythatthefootstepsaren’tWill’s.
Willwouldn’trunaway.Willwouldn’tleaveme.
Whateveritisthat’sbeenholdinghertogetheruntilthatpointfractures.She’sseizedbyasudden,bottomlessfear.
“Will!”Hervoiceishigh,untethered.“Canyouhearme?”
Hedoesn’treply.
Elinknowsinstantlythatit’snotbecausehedoesn’twantto.
Hecan’t.Hecan’tanswerher.That’sallshecanthink:Hecan’treply.
Margotwasright:shewantedtosolvethis,bolsterherego,andindoingso,she’sputWillindanger.
Elingetsdownonherhandsandknees,handsskimmingthefloor,circlingforthephone.Secondsseemtostretch,elongate,becomeminutes.
Finally,herhandfindsplastic;clampsaroundthephonecase.
Istheflashlightstillworking?
Sheflicksupthescreen,thenpressesdownontheflashlighticon.Thelightcomeson.Will’simmediatelyvisible:onlyayardorsoaheadofher.He’sonhisside,handsclampedoverhisstomach.There’ssomethingdarkbloomingaroundhim,ashadow.
Butit’snotashadow.
Ahollowopensinherchest.It’sblood.
Scrabblingtowardhim,Elinstops.WhatifMargot’sstillhere,hidinginthedarkness?
Sheswingstheflashlightaroundinacircle,butthere’snoonethere.
Margot’sgone.
Limbsheavy,Elinscufflesafewfeetalongandcomestoastopbesidehim.“Will—”Hertongueisthickinhermouth.“I’mhere.”Sheplacestheflashlightonthefloorbesidehim.Shecanseethewound—anarrow,deepslashafewinchesbelowhisnavel.
Sheclampsherhandoverit,tryingtostanchtheflowofblood.“It’llbeokay,Will.It’llbeokay.”75
Elincan’tequatethepalefigureinthebedwiththeWillsheknows.There’snosparkle,noneofhisusualzestforlife—theuncoiledenergyalwaysthreateningtospringfree.She’snotsureifhermind’splayingtricksonher,buthisbreathingsoundsstaccato,unsteady.
Inchingforward,shereachesoutahand,layingitacrosshis.Itdoesn’tmove;hedoesn’tregistertheweightofherfingers.
Herbreathcatchesasshewatcheshim.Hisheadistiltedtotheleft,thedarkblondofhishairlimpagainstthepillow.Hisfaceisdrainedofcolor,thefamiliarlinesbetweenhisfeaturesflattened,lainsmooth.There’spurplebruisingtohisface,inadditiontomultiplesmallcontusions.
Ablanketispulledhighoverhiswaist,coveringthewound.It’sdeep,butithadmissedmajororgansandarteries.
Oncethey’dgothimuptotheroom,Sara,atrainednurse,haddealtwithitefficiently,thoroughly.She’dcleanedthewound,dressedit,administeredbasicpainkillersandsedation,buthe’llneedpropertreatmentsoon—antibioticsandmonitoring.
Elinfreezes.Hisbreathing’schangedagain:aheavyraspbeforesettlingbackintotheunsteadyrhythmofbefore.Theanimalisticnoisetriggerssomethinginsideher—panic.Thisismyfault.I’mresponsible.
Steppingbackfromthebed,shenarrowshereyes,hopestochangetheperspective,makethescenesomethingdifferent.
Itworks:timetips,foldsbackonitself.NottoWill,buttoSam.
Shecanpicturehimlikethis,laidoutbesidetherockpool.Helookedthesameasalways:pale,skinnybody,mattedwhitehair,buttherewassomethingblankabouthim,asifsomethinghungryhadfounditswayinsidehim,scrapedhimclean.
Sheremembersfeelinghot,thenangry.Inherchildishselfishness,she’dexpectedmore,anexpressiononhisface—somekindofsignthathewassadtohavegone,tohavelefther,buttherewasnothing.Onlyavoid.
It’sthesamenow,withWill.
Hershouldersstarttoheave.
“He’llbeokay.”Isaacgraspsherhand.“Wegothimoutintime.”
Onlyjust,Elinthinks,imagesflickeringthroughherhead:thesmearedbloodonherhands,thefloor.CallingIsaac,slipperyfingersfumblingoverherphone.
Detailsofwhatfollowedescapeher.Fragmentedpictures:Saratreatinghimonthefilthyfloor,staffmovingaroundhim—acontinuousloopofbodies,shoutedinstructions.
“Elin,assoonasthemedicsgethere,they’lltakehimtothehospital.He’llbefine.”Isaactriestomeethergaze,butshelooksaway.
Shecan’tstopthinkingitover,thesamewordsonloop:
Will’sinthatbedbecauseofme.BecauseofwhatIdid.
He’dwantedtogowithher,protecther,andshe’dfailedhim.“Ididthistohim,Isaac.Irushedintoit.Hewarnedme—”
“Elin,don’t.”
“No.It’strue.Ipulledhimintothis.I’vebeenacrapgirlfriend.It’snotjustthis,I’vebeenmessingupeversincewegottogether.I’vekepthimatarm’slength,
neverlethimgetclose…”Hervoicecatches.“Whatifsomethinghappens?Hetakesaturnfortheworse?I’venevertoldhimhowIfeel,notproperly.”
Elinstops,putsherfingerstohertemple.
Somethingstrangeisinherhead:ablizzardofemotion,feelingscrisscrossing,misfiring.
Isaac’slookingather,hisfacesuffusedwithembarrassment,fear.Isaac,who’sneverlostforwords,isstruggling.Hisowngriefmirrorshers;it’stoomuchtohandle.He,likeher,iscomingunstuck.
Hismouthmoves,startstomakewords,butnonecomeout,eitherthatorshecan’thearthem.There’sastrangedistance;theworldisrecedingtoapinpoint—afamiliar,liquidblackness.Afamiliarity.Thebreathinherlungsisbeingreplacedwithsomethingdenser,heavier—aboulderrollinginsideherchest.
“Ican’tdothis,Isaac,Ican’t.”Herbreathsarefallingoverthemselves,stunted,halfformed.Shetriestofocusonthepictureonthewall:theabstractslashesofpaint,butthelineswon’tresolve.
“Elin?Haveyougotyourinhaler?”
Shecloseshereyes.Darkness.Shesensesaburstofmovement,ahandinherpockets,thenclosetohermouth.Blockyplasticagainstherlips,herteeth.
“Breathein.”There’sasuddenrushofgas,cool,dryinhermouth.
Itonlytakesseconds.Hercheststartstoloosen,herbreathingsoftening.
Headstillswimming,sheturnstoIsaac.“Sorry,I—”
“It’sfine.”Hetakesherarm,propelsherbackward,ontothesofa.“Ihadnoideayourasthmawasthisbad.”
Elindrawsherselfupright.Forafew,fleetingmoments,sheconsiderslying,butsheknowsshecan’t.
Liesontopofmorelies—itcan’tcarryon.
“Isaac,this…itisn’tasthmanow,notentirely.Imean,Istillhaveit,butit’sundercontrol.What
happenedthenwasapanicattack.They’vebeenworsethispastyear,sinceMum,thecaseItoldyouabout.”Shegesturestotheinhalerinhishand.“That,ithelps,obviously,butinawayit’saprop.Acomfortblanket.”
Helooksather,hisgazesteady,penetrating.“Whendidthisstart?”
“WithSam.Youwereright,whatyousaidbefore,aboutmealwayshavingtolookforanswers.It’sbecauseofSam.Allthis,itgoesbacktohim.EverycaseI’mworkingon,I’mlookingforanswers,butSam’sistheoneIkeepcomingbackto.Ijustwanttoknowwhathappened.Thetruth,soIcanmoveon.”
Thewordscomeoutinarush,atorrent.Wordsshe’swantedtosayforsolong.Isaacmakesafrustratednoise.
Helooksather,hiseyesred,bloodshot.
“Elin,stop,please.Stopdoingthis.”
“Stopwhat?”
“Endlesslybringingthingsbacktothatday.Evennow,withWilllikethat.”Hejerksahandtowardthebed.
“Samdied,andthere’snothingwecandoaboutit.YouthinkIdon’tgooverandoveritinmymindallthetimeaswell?IlookatphotosofhimandIwanttopullhimout,physicallyreachin,makehimrealagain,buthe’snevergoingtobe.He’snothere.You’vegottoacceptit.
Moveon.”
“Isaac—”Shestops,takenaback.Howcanhedothat?
Takethisself-righteoustonewhenallthiscomesbacktohim.
“What?It’strue.Ican’tbearseeingyoulikethis.
You’reashadowofwhoyouusedtobe.Nooneblamesyou,Elin.Noone.Ididn’twanttohavetosayit,butIthinkit’swhatyouneedtohear.”
Elinstaresathim.“Blamesme?Forwhat?”Hervoiceishigh.“Allthis,it’sbecauseofyou,Isaac.WhatyoudidthatdaytoSam.That’swhat’sbeenholdingmeback.”
“Me?”Isaacfalters.
“Ikeepgettingflashbacks.Flashbacksofwhatreallyhappened.You,withyourhandscoveredinblood.Youdidit,didn’tyou?Youkilledhim.Youhadthatargument,anditwenttoofar.”Thewordsareslidingoutofhernow,easy,ugly,fueledbyresentment,anger—
everythingshe’sbeenhidingforsolong.
“No.”Hisvoicecatches.Whenhemeetshergaze,hisfeaturesaretight.“LikeIsaid,let’snotgetintothisnow.”Helooksatthebed.“NotwithWilllikethis.”
“No,it’snotgoingtobethateasy.Iwanttoknow,Isaac.Iwantyoutotellmeexactlywhathappened.”
Silence.Severalheavybeatspass.Herthroatisthrobbing,thickwithmorewords.Morequestions.
“Comeon.”Elinroughlygrabshisarm.“Youcanstartwiththefirstlie.Youdidn’tgototheloo,didyou?Youwerethere,withSam.”
It’sthenshenoticessomethingstrangeinhiseyes,somethingthatsendsacolddropoffearrightthroughher.
Pity.
Thisisn’tright,shethinks,panicked.Heshouldbesad,sorry,evendefensive,butnotthis…heshouldn’tbepityingher.
Isaac’seyespulluptomeethers.They’redimmed,sad.
“Okay,”hesaysfinally.“Youwantthetruth?Iwasn’ttherewhenhedied,Elin.Itwasyouwithhim,notme.”76
Elinfalters.“Idon’tunderstandwhatyou’resaying.
Iwasn’tthere.Iwasbythecliff.”
Isaacrubsroughlyathiseye.“No.You’dcomeback.IaskedyoutowatchSamwhileIwenttotheloo.
WhenIcameback,hewasinthewater.Youweregabbling,repeatingyourself,saidyouwatchedhimgoin,couldn’tdoanything.”Hehesitates,swallowinghard
“Look,thedoctors,theysaidyouwereinshock.Thatyoufroze.”
“No.No.”Rockingforward,shefoldsherarmstightaroundherbody.Thewordsaren’tbeingabsorbed.
“That’snotright.”
Isaaccarrieson.“Theysaidtherewasn’tanythingyoucouldhavedone.Thepostmortemshowedthathediedinstantly,abrainhemorrhagecausedbythefall.Theimpactfromtherock…itwasthewrongplaceonhisskull,that’sall.Badluck.”
Elinfeelsasudden,sharpwaveofnausea,theworldassheknewitshattering,becomingsomethingnew.
Severalbeatspass.
Shespeaksfirst.“Tellmewhathappened,”shesaysinawhisper.“Thedetails.”
“You’resure?”
Shenods.
Isaacshiftshisbodytofaceher.“WhenIleftfortheloo,you’dputyourlineinnexttohis.That’sthelastthingIsaw.”
“Andthen?”Herwordsarebarelyaudible.
“Icameback,sawSaminthewater.Iwadedin,pulledhimout.I—”Hestops,andElinknowswhy.Hedoesn’t
wanttosaythewords.Doesn’twanttoimplicateher.Tellherthathesawherstandingthere,doingnothing.
Thethoughtcausesasuddenpullofbreath,asharp,painfulinhalation.
Allthistime,she’sbeenblaminghim.ThinkinghehurtSam,Laure…
“Whatabouttheblood,”shesays,“onyourhands?”
“ThatwasfromwhenIpulledhimoutofthewater.
Therewasacutonthesideofhishead.”
Elin’ssilent,realizesherfingersaremoving,almostentirelyindependentlyfromherbrain.Flexing,thenretractingaroundnothingbutair.
“Soyou’resayingthatIwasthereandIdidnothingtohelphim.”Hervoicestutters.
“Yes,butthedoctorssaiditwasshock.”Isaacputshishandonhers.“Peoplereactdifferentlywhensomethinglikethathappens,youmustknowthatfromwork.Elin,youwereonlytwelve.I’vethoughtaboutthisalot,readaboutwhatcanhappenwhenyouexperiencesomethingtraumatic.Yousawsomethinghorrifying.Youfroze.It’snormal.”
“No.No.Itdidn’thappen.Itcan’thavehappened.Notlikethat.”Hervoicesoundsscreechy.Somethinganimal,outofcontrol.“Isaac,no.Pleasesayit’snotright,whatyou’resaying.It’snotright!”
“Elin,”Isaacstarts,“Ididn’twanttotellyou,notlikethis,butperhapsnowthatyouknowthetruthyoucanacceptwhathappened.Moveon.Allthesefearsyou’vehad…maybethey’vebeenrootedinyou.”
“Inme?”
“Yes.Weshouldhavemadeyouseeatherapist,talkitthrough,butMumwasworriedaboutyoublamingyourself.SoinsteadIthinkyourbrainputupbarriersaroundthatday,againstwhathappened.”
Elinshakesherhead.Shedoesn’twanthispity,theseplatitudes.Itfeelslikeshe’shadthegutspulledoutof
her.Herheadisthrobbing;she’sfittoburst.Shecan’tremembereverfeelingthistired.Allshewantsistobealone.
“Please,Isaac,justgo.”Hervoicesoundsstrange.
Empty.
Hehesitates,openinghismouthasiftosaysomethingbeforeshakinghishead,walkingaway.
Watchinghimleave,shesqueezeshereyesshuttighttoblockitout,blockeverythingout,butitdoesn’tstopthemfromcoming—thoughts,sharp,likeknives.
Shehadn’thelpedhim.Sam.HerSam.Herlittlebrother.Loverofstoriesandfables.Thesoldier.
Theknight.
Thereluctantsheepinthewhitewoollycostume.
Elinputsherheadinherhands.Shefeelscogsturning,deepwithinherbrain,shiftingintoplace.
Itallmakessensenow,doesn’tit?
Hermother’sreticencetotalkaboutSam—thestrained,try-too-hardfacewhenevershementionedhisname.Herfatherleaving,hishalfheartedattemptstostayintouch.
They’dblamedher,theythoughtshecouldhavesavedhim.
Fragmentsofamemorypulltothesurface:thefirstanniversaryofSam’sdeath.HermotherinSam’sroom,sittingonhisbed,holdingabook:Peepo.Atoddler-Samfavorite,buthestilllovedthesimplelanguage,therepetition.
Hermotherwasreadingitunderherbreath,bodyslightlyrocking.Elinwentover,lightlysqueezedhershoulder,butshe’drecoiledatElin’stouch,theactionfierceenoughtosendthebookflyingoutofherhand,careeringintoSam’sLegospaceship.
Itclatteredoffitsbaseplate,splinteringintofragments.Hermother,stillnotacknowledgingher,
droppedtoherhandsandknees,scrabblingtopickupthepieces.
Atthetime,Elinthoughtitstrange,howshe’drecoiledathertouch,butsheneverreallyunderstoodthesignificance.
Untilnow.
Leaningbackagainstthepillow,Elinfeelshottearsprickthebackofhereyes
Itallmakessensenow.
Hermotherknew.
Theyallknew.
Itwasher.77
DayFive
WhenElinwakes,shehasnoideawhattimeitis.
Asshereachesoutahandtocheck,shewinces;herlowerbackfeelsstiff,andshe’ssoreallover.
It’snotjustfromthescufflewithMargot—she’sinacotthehotelhadprovidedsoWillcouldhavetheirbedtohimselfasherecovers.It’snarrowandunsubstantial,thethinmattressbarelycushioningheragainsttherigidlatticeworkofsprings.
It’s6:01a.m.
SheglancesoveratWill.There’senoughlightthatshecanseehe’sstillpale,buthisbreathingisrhythmic,steady.
Relieved,sheliesbackagainstthepillow.Herheadisthrobbing;everyfiberofherbodystillcravingsleep.Assherollsoverontoherstomach,shefeelshereyesclose.
Thistime,sleepcomesharder,quicker,seizingher,pullingherunder.Withinminutes,she’sdrifting.It’sdangerous,sheknows,becausethistime,whentheflashbackcomes,it’snotfragmentslikeitalwayshasbeen,butthewhole.
Sam,leaningovertherockpool,netthrustdeepintothethickofmurkyseaweed-water.Ithappensinslowmotion;Samturning,tosaysomething—nocrabs,maybe,ormyneck’sburning,andashetwistshisbodybacktofacethewater,heloseshisbalance.
Elinstartstolaughathiscomicexpression,whichshesoonrealizesisn’tacomicexpressionatall,it’sfear.Feartwistinghisfeaturesintoknotsbecausehe’sfallingbackward.
There’snothingworse,isthere?Noeyesonwhereyou’regoing.Nocontrol.
Hebreaksthewatercleanly.
Sheknowsnowthatthiswasthefirstwarningsign:Samshouldhavesplashed.Shouldhavemadeanoise,criedoutashehitthewater,thrashedaround,laughing,ashetriedtorighthimself.
Butthere’snoneofthat:justasinglesplashfollowedbyasickeningcrack.
ThenSam,lyingstill,theimpactonlycontinuinginthewater;circlesripplingoutward.
Partoftherockisstained;deepgloss-redacrossthewhitebarnaclelace.
Sam’sfacedoesn’tlooklikeSam’sface.Hiseyesarewideopen.Staring.Jellylimbslikewhenhewasatoddler.
There’sasplitonthesideofhishead.Morethanacut;somethingopen,gaping.Elinwantstomove,sheremembersthatmuch;shewantstodivein,dosomethingmagictohelphim,butherfeetwon’tbudge.
They’restuck.Gluedtotherockandthehalfdomeoflimpetthat’sdiggingintoherleftheel.
Move,shetellsherfeet,move.
Buttheywon’t.Norwillhereyes.They’restucktoo.
StuckonSam’sbodyintherockpool,hisT-shirtswollenbythewater,thebreezecatchingit,makingitripplelikesomeobsceneballoon.
Hislegscatchtheswayofthewater,araggedflagofseaweedsnaggingonhisankle.Herbucketfallsfromherhand:aloudcrackontherockbelow.
Seaweed-waterspoolsbetweentheclustersoflimpetsandbarnacles.Crabsareonthemarch,shrimpsbody-poppingagainsttherock,desperatelyseekingwater.
It’sthenhermindhooksonsomething.
Zoomsin.Stuckononeaction,onloop:
Bucketfallingfromhand.Bucketfallingfromhand.
Shereachesup,gripsthenecklacetightly,fingersclosingaroundthecurveofthehook,herheartthuddingasthememoryshakesloosetheechoofanother.
Asimilaraction.
Somethingdroppingtothefloor.
InthescufflebetweenWillandMargot,somethinghaddroppedontothefloor.
Shecloseshereyesandthememoryfleshesout:thetwoofthemgrappling,thegrunts,heavybreaths,andamongthat,somethingmoremuted.
Asoftthud,ascrapeofsomethingscuddingalongthefloor.
Elinsitsup,reachesforherwater.Asshetakesalongdrink,hermindteasesthethoughtapart.
Whatcoulditbe?Whathadfallentothefloor?78
You’resureaboutthis?”Isaac’svoiceislight,buthiseyesarewary.“Aftereverythingthat’shappened?
Youweren’tinagoodwaywhenIleft.”Turningbacktothebedsidetable,hepicksuphiscoffeeanddrainsit.
Hisfacelooksgrayinthehalf-light,hiscurlsmattedandflattened.
Behindhim,theroomisindisarray;thesheetsaretornback,cupslitteringthebedsidetable.Elinfeelsasharppangofguilt:he’sgrieving,barelycoping,andnowshe’slayingthisonhim.
“Ican’tleaveit.”Shepushesthethoughtaway.“Iheardsomethingdrop,I’mcertainofit.We’vegottoatleastgoandlook.”
“Butsurely,iftherewasanythingthere,we’dhaveseenitwhenwewerehelpingWill.”Hiseyestrackacrossherface.“Awholegroupofusweredownthere.Ifsomeoneelsehadfoundit,they’dhavetoldus.”
Elinpicksaparthismutedreaction,thecarefullyneutralexpression.Hethinksshe’sovertired,clutchingatstraws.
There’sanawkwardsilence.
She’ssuddenlyawareofhowshemustlook—herfaceclammy,dampwithsweat,herhairmussedfromadisturbedsleep.
Aflushcreepsupherface.
“Notnecessarily.”Sherunsahandthroughherhair,triestoflattenit.“AllwewereconcentratingonwashelpingWill.Somethingcouldeasilyhavegoneunnoticed.”
“Eitherway,”Isaacsayscarefully.“Thisprobablyisn’ttherightcall.Margot’smostlikelyhere,somewhereinthehotel.Shelefttheroom,escaped.It’stoorisky.”Hehesitates.“It’snotonlythat.WhataboutWill?Shouldn’tyoubewithhim?”
Elinfeelshershoulderstighten—anotherwaveofguilt.
He’sright.
SheshouldbewithWill.It’stheleastshecandoafterwhathappened,buttheurgetofollowherinstinctsistoostrong.
“WhenIleft,hewasstillasleep.He’sbeenfineallnight.Sara’smessagedme,saidshe’lllookinonhiminaminute,andthis…itwon’ttakelong.”Shestops,wincingatherownwords.
Self-justificationoftheworst,mostselfishkind
“You’resure?”Isaacreachesforasweater,pullsitoverhishead.
“Yes.ThefactthatMargotwentforme…itprovesthisisn’ttheendofit.Shewantedmeoutofthewaybecauseshe’sgotsomethingelseplanned.”
Hiseyesflickpasthertothewindow.“Istillthinkyoushouldwait.Theforecastsaysitmightbreaklatertoday.
Thepolicemightbeabletogethere.”
“Itdoesn’tlooklikeit.”Elinglancesoutside.It’sstilldark,buttheoutsidelightsilluminatethesnowplummetingfromthesky—thick,oversizedflakes.“Andwecan’taffordtowait.HowMargotspoke,Icantellthatthisissomethingpersonal.It’srevenge.”
Isaac’seyesdriftthencometorestonthechairafewfeetaway.
Elinfollowshisgaze.Laure’sleatherjacket,slungacrossthearm.
Somethingshiftsinhisexpression.
Hegivesaquick,decisivenod.“Okay.Let’sdoit.”Hiseyesareburningwithanemotionthat’sbeyondanger.
It’ssomethingraw,darker,deeplypersonal.79
Thelightsarenowworkinginthegeneratorroom.
Undertheharshneonglow,thespaceisdifferent—
sterile,inert,thethrummingmachineryblandlyfunctionalratherthansinister.
Weavingthroughtheequipmentaheadofher,Isaacturns.“SheattackedWilltowardthebackoftheroom,didn’tshe?”
Shenods.“We’renotfarfromit,though.”AfewfeetonandElincanseeit:blood.Will’sblood.Inchingtowardit,herstomachcontracts.
Thetilesarestreakedwithred—messysmearsfromwherethestaffhadliftedWill.Faintbloodyfootprintsreachoutwardbeforetrailingtonothing.
Elinforcesherselftotakeadeepbreath.“Ifsomethingwasdropped,itmustbesomewherehere.”Hereyesscourthefloor,thegapsbetweenthebulkyapparatuses.
“Seeanything?”Isaacmovesbesideher.
“Nothingsofar.”Shebitesherlipinfrustration.
Nothingtohintatthesoundsheheard—thatsoftthud,thescuffingsoundofsomethingslidingacrossthefloor.
Unless,Elinthinks,loweringherselftoherknees,theimpactwasenoughthattheobjecttraveledfartherthanshethought.Afterall,thetilesaresmooth,slick…
Tippingherheadsideways,necklaceswingingagainstherchin,shelooksunderthemachineinfront.Isthereenoughofagapforsomethingtoslipunder?
Thereis…Sheturnsherheadtheotherway.It’sthensheseesit:awhitecorner,justvisibleandhalfprotrudingfrombeneathametalcagesurroundingthegenerator.
Shereachesfortheedge,andtriestopullittowardher.Itdoesn’tgive.
Changingtack,sheclaspstheedgebetweenfingerandthumb,tugs.Thistimeitslidesouteasily.Shestares:anenvelope,packedtight.
“Haveyoufoundsomething?”
Shestandsbackup.“Anenvelope.”Handsshaking,sheliftsuptheflap,withdrawsathickpileofpapers,lettersize,foldedinhalf.
Sheexaminesthefirstpieceofpaper,andtakesasuddenbreath.Sherecognizesthewords,thelayout.
GotterdorfKlinik.
“It’samedicalrecord.ThesameastheonesonLaure’smemorystick.”Onebigdifference,though—thisoneisn’tredacted.Shescansthepage,startingwiththenameatthetop.BetteMassen.
Massen:that’sMargot’ssurname,isn’tit?Elinthennoticesthenumberbelowthename:87534.Herpulsequickens.Itcan’tbeacoincidence.
Scanningdown,shecan’treadanyfurther.TheGermanmedicalvocabularyisbeyondher.Sheflickstothenextone.“There’smore,”shemurmurs,thenstops.
Something’sfallentothefloor.Black-and-whitephotographs.
Bendingdown,shegathersthemtogether,picksthemup.
Shocksurgesthroughherassheexaminesthefirstimage.Fivewomen,lyingsidebysideonaseriesofoperatingtables.Aclothisdrapedlooselyovertheirlowerlimbs,butit’sbeencarelesslypulledback,asifitwashastilymovedforthephotographer.
Sothelenscouldcapturethehandiwork.
Notthatyoucouldcallitthat,Elinthinks,bilerisingatthebackofherthroat.
Theirbodiesaremutilated;stomachssplayedopen,fleshretractedwithsomekindofmetaltooltorevealtheorgansbeneath.
Hergazemovestotheirheads.It’shardtosee,asthebodiesareprone,butitlookslikepartoftheskullhasbeenremoved,thebrainmatterclearlyvisible.
Herbrainisshoutingather:Don’tlook.Don’tlook.
Butshehasto.Ashivermovesthroughheratwhathereyesfindnext:threepeoplestandingbehindthewomen,cladinsurgicalclothes.They’reallwearingmasks.Themasksareconcealingtheirfaces,butshe’sprettysurethey’remen.Theirframes,theirheight,theformal,broad-leggedstance.
ThemasksarethesamegrotesquerubbermasksthatwereattachedtoAdele’sandLaure’sfaces.
Thesamemaskthekillerwore.
Elinfeelsanotherwaveofrevulsionasshedrawstheconclusion:theonlylogicalreasonthedoctorswouldbemaskedistoconcealtheiridentity.Theydidn’twantpeopletoknowwhotheywere,becausetheyweredoingsomethingwrong.Itcertainlylookswrong.Farfrombeingaclinicalprocedure,itlookslikeacrimescene.
Somethinginhuman.Barbaric.
Herfingerscontractaroundthephotograph,andonceagainshehastoforceherselftoexamineit,hereyesfindingnewdetail.
Elinsucksinherbreath:thewomanclosesttothecamerahasherarmfallingoffthesideofthetable.
Severalfingershavebeenremoved.
There’ssomethingaroundherwristtoo.It’shardtotellwhatit’smadeofbecausetheimageisn’tincolor,butit’sdefinitelyabracelet.Itlookssimilartothecopperbraceletsshe’dseenintheboxes.
“Thisisit,”Elinsaysslowly,stilldigestingtheknowledge,itsimplications.“Whatallthishasbeenabout.”
Isaac’sfaceistwistedindisgust.“Whatexactlyaretheydoing?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesaysgrimly,“butwhateveritis,itdoesn’tlooklegal.”
AfterpassingthephotographtoIsaac,Elinholdsupthenextone.Itshowsascrubbypatchofgrassandwhatlookslikeasolitarygrave,theearthrecentlydisturbed,noheadstoneormarker.
Flippingtothenext,shebringsherhandtohermouth.Whilenotasgraphic,theimageisequallydisturbing.Itshowsawomanlyingonanoperatingtable,twosandbagsstrappedtightlytoherchest.Theweightfromthebagshascausedherchesttocave,bow.
Thewoman’seyesareclosed.
Elincan’ttellifshe’saliveornot.Shedoubtsit:breathinglooksimpossible.Theweightofthesandbagsonherchestwouldhavemeantherlungswouldhavestruggledtoinflate.Onceagain,threemaskedmenarestandingbehindher.
Theirfixedpose,themasks…it’schilling.
Withfumblingfingers,shemovestothenextone.Theimageshowstwowomen,againonoperatingtables.
Sheetingispulleduphighovertheirbodies,buttherearelongincisionsintheirnecks.Elinstares,shudderingasthescenemovesintosharperfocus.
HermindimmediatelymakestheconnectiontothemethodsusedtokillAdeleandLaure—thesandbagwithAdele,theneckincisionwithLaure.
Hertheoryisright—howthey’vebeenkilled,thesignature…thekilleristryingtocommunicatesomething.
This.
Margot’sreenactingwhathappenedintheseimages.
Everylittledetail,fromthemethodofkillingtothemasks,thebracelets..
TurningtoIsaac,she’sabouttosaysomethingwhenshenoticeshe’sstilllookingintentlyatthefirst
photograph.
“Whatisit?”
“Lookatthis.Something’swrittenontheback.”Hepassesittoher.
He’sright:something’swritteninpencil,inanold-fashioned,loopingscriptyoudon’tseeanymore.
SanatoriumduPlumachit,1927.
“Thiswastakenhere,inthehotel.Allofthat…”Hermouthisdry.“Itwasdonehere.”
Anideastrikes—shegoesthroughthephotographsagainuntilshefindstheoneofthegrave.Bringingitcloser,sheexaminesthebackground.Thoughthere’snosnowonthegroundasthereisnow,sherecognizesthemassoffirtreesrisingsteadilyupward,theglimpseofhighmountainabove.
“Thiswastakennearthesanatorium,wasn’tit?Thesewomen,theywereburiednearhere.”
“Lookslikeit.Unmarkedgraves.”
Elinfindsthefirstphotograph,turnsitover,hergazemovinglowerthistime.
Belowthenameofthesanatoriumisalistoffivesetsofnumbers,eachsetcontainingfivenumbersinarow.
Hermindmakestheleap:
Fivewomen.Fivesetsofnumbers.
Thenumbersareinthesameformatasthenumbersonthebracelets.Sherunsherfingeroverthenumberatthetop:87534.Aslowburnofrecognition:thesamenumbershe’dfoundinthemedicalfileonLaure’smemorystick,ononeofthebraceletsbyAdele’sbody…
it’samatch.
OneofthesewomenisMargot’srelative.
ElincatchesIsaac’seye.“Itmatcheswiththemedicalfiles.Thenumbersonthebackofthephotograph,they’repatientnumbers.”
“Sothenumbersonthebraceletseachrefertoapatient?”
“Yes.I’mprettycertain,lookingatthis,thatoneofthesewomenwasarelativeofMargot’s.”
“ButthesefilesrefertothisGermanclinic,apsychiatricfacility.Howdidtheyenduphere?”
“Idon’tknow.Weneedsomeonetotranslatethem,butmyguessistheyweren’ttransferredhereformentalhealthreasons.”Themoreshelooks,themoresinistershefindstheimages.
Severaldetailsbotherher:thewaythemaskedmenbehindthewomenarelinedup,inarow.There’sapowerimbalanceimplicitintheirposture,position—thewomenlyingvulnerable,maskedsurgeonsstandingoverthem,incontrol.
Athreat.
Thenthegrave—thefacttherewasnoheadstone,nosignofanyceremony.Wasitdonesecretly?
Elinpushesbackherhair.“Thisiswhatallthishasbeenabout,Isaac.Revenge.SomehowMargot’sgotholdofthecontentsofthesefiles,thephotographs,andnowshe’sgettingpayback.”
Hisexpressionchanges;featurestensing.“Ifyou’reright”—hepointsatthemaskedfigures—“andsheisworkingfromthesephotographs,therearefivepeopleinthisone,Elin.”Heholdsitup.“IfyouincludeDaniel,she’skilledthreesofar,sothatmeans—”
“Therearetwopeopleleft,”Elinfinishes.
There’sapause.“ButtheonethingIdon’tunderstand,”hestarts,“iswhyshetargetedthem.AdeleandLaure,Daniel…Whathappenedinthesepictures,itwasyearsago.It’shorrific,traumatic,buttheremustbesomethingthat’shappenedmorerecentlyforhertotargetthemnow.”
“Iagree,butit’simpossibletosay,notuntilweknowmore.”
“Sowhatnext?”Isaactrainshiseyesontheenvelopeinherhand.“We’vegotthisinformation,butitdoesn’ttelluswhereMargotis,whatshe’splanning.”
“You’reright,”sheconcedes,andit’sthenshenoticessomething,ontheveryedgeoftheenvelope.Asmalldarkflake.
Margot’snailvarnish.
Asudden,sharptugathersubconscious.Animage:flakesofnailvarnishonthedesk.Margotreachingtosweepthemaway,andwithitabagtumbling,itscontentsspillingacrossthefloor.
Thethoughtthatupuntilnowhadbeenshapeless,elusive,resolvesintosomething.Somethingherconsciousmindhadn’tpickeduponatthetime,buthersubconsciousclearlyhad.
Fearspikesthebaseofherstomach.“WeneedtofindtheCarons.IthinkIknowwhereMargotmightbe,Isaac.
Ithinkshe’sbeeninthehotelallalong.”80
Thearchiveroom?”Lucassaysdismissively,slidinghiscoffeecupalonghisdesk.“There’snothingthere.”
Elincanfeelthetensionemanatingfromhim:tightshoulders,juttingjaw.
He’snotbotheredbymywakinghim,it’sthathedoesn’tlikethatI’vegoneagainstwhatheadvised.ThatI’mstillinvestigating.
“Areyousure?There’renootherdoors?Nootherwayoutoftheroom?”
“No.”Lucas’svoiceiscurt.Flippingdownthelidofhislaptop,hemeetshergaze,achallengeinhiseyes.“Whatmakesyousosureshe’sbeeninthere?”
“Ahunch.”Elinkicksherself.
Ahunch.Shesoundslikeanamateur.
“Youwanttoputyourselfatriskoverahunch?”
Mouthtwitching,heexchangesaglancewithCecile.“Thepolicemightbeuptoday.Theweatherismeanttobeimproving.I’dprefertosititoutaswe’vebeenadvised.”
Hedoesn’tmentionwhathenowknowsaboutherjob,herlie,buthedoesn’thaveto:theknowledgesitsbetweenthem,weighingheavy.
“Sittingitoutcouldbeaproblem.”Elintakescarewithherwords,keepinghertoneflat,unemotional.“Myworryis,she’soutofcontrol.WhatshedidtoWillwasunplanned,spontaneous.There’severychanceshecoulddothesameagain.Oncesheknowsthepolicearehere,thesituationcouldescalaterapidly.”Theendofthesentenceisdrownedoutbythesoundofthewind.
Shefeelshermobilebuzzinherpocket.Pullingitout,shecanseethatIsaac’scalling.Shereplacesit;she’llcallhimback.
“YoureallythinkMargot’scapableofallthis?”Cecileasks.
Elinputstheenvelopedown,herhandsnotquitesteady.
ThisiswhatI’vebeenwaitingfor—theirreactiontotheimage.
“Ithinkshe’scapable,”Elinsayssoftly,“becauseofthis.”Pullingoutthefirstphotograph,sheplacesitonthedesk.“ThisisMargot’smotive.Ican’tthinkofastrongerone.”
Cecilerecoils,ahandcominguptohermouth.Lucasishardertoread,hisexpressionfixed.
“Whatisit?”Herubsahandacrosshisjaw,rufflinghisbeard.
“Thisphotographwastakenhere.WethinkoneofthesewomenisMargot’srelative.”Elinflipsthephotographover.“Thenumbersonthebackmatchthepatientnumberonthemedicalfilewefoundinthesameenvelope,aswellasthenumberononeofthebracelets.”
“Butwhataretheydoingtothesewomen?”Cecilereachesfortheimage,hereyesglassy.“Itdoesn’tlooklikeanormaloperation.”
“Idon’tthinkitis.ThesewomencamefromapsychiatricclinicinGermany.There’snolegitimatemedicalreason,asfarasIcantell,forthemtohavebeentransferredhere,toatuberculosissanatorium.”
Reachingintotheenvelope,shepullsoutthemedicalfilebelongingtoMargot’srelative.“We’llknowmorefromthis.Icouldn’tunderstanditall.”
“Icantranslate.”Cecilereadsinsilence,thenstartstospeak.“Itsaysshewasadmittedtotheclinicforpsychiatricissuesafterthebirthofherfourthchild.Thefamilydoctorreferredherthereaftercounselfromher
husband.Itdetailshermedications,treatments.”Shefrowns.“There’snomentionofatransferhere,though.”
“Idon’tthinktherewouldbe.Ithinkthiswasdoneinsecret.Offtherecord.”Elinturnstheimageover.“It’swrittenquiteclearly.SanatoriumduPlumachit.”
Reachingfortheenvelopeagain,shepullsoutthephotographofthegrave,passesittothem.“Wefoundthisamongthephotographstoo.Itlookstomelikeitwastakenhere.Nearthehotel.”
“Agrave,”Cecilesaysslowly.“Youthinkthesewomenwereburiedhere?”
Elinnods.“Youdidn’tknowanythinglikethiswentonhere?”
“No.”Cecile’sfacedarkens.“There’snothinginthearchiveaboutthis.”
“Lucas?”Elinwaitsforhisreaction.Anytells,signsofdeceit.“Youhadnoinformationaboutthegraveswhenyouwereplanningthebuild?”
Tiltinghisheadawayfromtheimage,Lucasshakeshishead.
Elinrealizesthatsomethingfeelsstrangeabouthisreaction;hisexpressionseemstooneutral,toodetached.
Focusingonhim,hermindwhirring,shedoesn’trealizethatCecileissayingsomethingtoher.
“Sorry?”
“Iwassaying,ithappenedsolongago.”Cecilefrowns.
“What’sitgottodowithAdeleandLaure,Daniel?Whykillthem?”
“Idon’tknow,”Elinadmits.“OnlyMargotcantellusthat.”
Cecile’seyesarestillpickingoverthephotograph.
“Seeingthis,Ithinkyou’reright.Ifthisisaboutwhathappenedinthesephotographs,whoknowswhatshemightdonext.Ithinkyoushouldtrytofindher.
Confronther.”
Lucaslooksuneasy.“Idon’tknow…”
Elincatcheshiseye,hergazeunwavering.“Thismightbeouronlychancetogetontheoffensive,catchheroffguard.Sofarshe’sbeenonestepahead.Ifwemovenow,wemighthavetheadvantageofsurprise.”
Lucasnods,turnstoCecile.“Canyouheadtothediningroomtosupervisewhileeveryonehasbreakfast?
I’llgowithElin.”
“Shallwe—”Elinpauses,feelingherphonevibratingagaininherpocket.Shepullsitout.Isaacisringingagain.“I’mjustgoingtotakethis,”shesays,movingtowardthecorneroftheroom.“Hello?”
“Wherehaveyoubeen?Youdidn’tansweryourphone.”
“IwasshowingLucasandCecilethephotographs.”
“Youshouldbereachable,Elin.Youknowthat.”
Elin’sabouttoreplyandthentrailsoff,takinginhissombertone.“What’swrong?”
There’sapause.
“Isaac?IsitWill?”
“Hisbloodpressure…”Isaac’ssentencefallsaway,asifhe’sstrugglingtofindthewords.Elinfeelssicksuddenly,hotallover.“It’sdroppedalittle.Sara’snotsureifit’saninfectionorinternalbleeding.Shesaysit’sunlikelygiventhelocationofthewound,butshethinksweneedtogethimtoahospital.”
Aringofpressuresqueezesherheadlikeavise.
Thiscan’tbehappening.Ican’tletithappen.Notagain.
“How?We’restuckhere.”Elin’sawarehervoicesoundsoutofcontrol.Untethered.“We’venowayofgettingout.”
Lucasglancesather.
“Iknow.Ijustwantedyoutoknowwhatshesaid.”
Shecantellit’sanefforttokeephisvoicecalm.Isaac
doesn’tknowwhattodowiththeinformation,howtoreacttoithimself,letalonetellher.
“I’llcomeup.SeehimbeforeIgowithLucas.”
“Okay.”
ElinexplainsthesituationtoLucasandthenleaveshisoffice,herheartpounding.
Staycalm,shetellsherself,butallshecanthinkaboutislosingWill.
Shecan’tloseanymoreofthepeoplesheloves.81
Closingthedoortotheirroombehindher,Elin’seyesfillwithtears,tearsshe’dhadtofightbackasshe’dsatbesideWill.She’dwantedtobestrong,tonotshowanyfear,butitwasafront.
Willlookedworse.Frail.Underthebrightlightsabovethebed,hisskinseemedalmosttranslucent,thebluishstreaksofveinaroundhistemplenowvisiblethroughhisskin.Hisbreathingsoundedshallow,likeitwastakingaherculeanefforttomaintaineventhemostbasicoffunctions.
DespiteSara’sreassurancesthathisbloodpressurehadreturnedtonormal,thatthingswereundercontrol,hermindkeepsthrowingupworst-casescenarios:Whatifhisbloodpressuredropsagain?
WhatifSara’shidingtheworstfrommebecausesheknowsthere’snothingtheycandountilhelparrives?
Butsheknowsshecan’tletherfearstakeover.Ifshedoesthat,it’snotjustWill’slifethatwillbeinthebalance,it’llbeeveryoneelse’s.
Walkingbrisklydownthecorridor,shewipesthetearsfromhereyes.
Focus,shetellsherself.Stayincontrol.
Lucasiswaitingoutsidethearchiveroom.“How’sWill?”Hiseyesarefilledwithagenuineconcernasheopensthedoor.
“Hisbloodpressure…itdroppedsuddenly,butitwasbackupwhenIleft.Sarathinksitmightbethestartofaninfection.Heneedsantibiotics.”Shestops,feelingahorriblepullinherstomach,afreshsurgeofguilt.
ShouldIreallybeleavinghimtodothis?
Lucaslooksatherawkwardly.“Look.”Histonesoftens.“I’mhappytodothisalone,ifyouwanttostaywithhim.”
Elinwalksfartherintotheroom.“No,Ineedtodothis.”NotonlybecauseshewantstomakesureMargotcan’thurtanyoneelse,butbecauseit’snowdeeplypersonal.MargothurtWillandLaure.Sheneedstobestopped.
“Thisisit.”Shecrouchesdowninthemiddleofthearchiveroom,runsherfingersovertherubbermatting.
Hereyeslockonthediamond-shapedholesinbetween,thesmallpieceofmetalstraddlingthem,thesilverstarsdecoratingthetopclearlyvisible.
“Whatisit?”Lucaskneelsdownbesideher.
“Ahairgrip.It’sMargot’s.WhenIwasinherebefore,Isawitonthefloor.Ididn’tmaketheconnectionuntilIsawhernailvarnishontheenvelope.Ittriggeredsomething.Irememberedherpickinghernailsonthedesk.Whensheswepttheflakesaway,herarmknockedoverherbag.Somehairgripsfelltothefloor…”
Hereyesfindsomethingelse:severaltinyflakesofgraybetweentheholesinthematting.Lickingherfinger,shepressesitdownbetweenoneofthem.Severaloftheflakesadheretoherfinger.Elinstares,goingoverthesightinhermind.
It’sMargot’snailvarnish.Thatveryparticulargraycolor.
“Whatisit?”
“Nailvarnish.”Ifshewasinanydoubt—notanymore.
“Margot’sbeenhere.Recently.”Shelookscloser.Severallargerflakesareclearlyvisiblebetweenthematting.Ifshe’dbeenjustfiddlingwithhernails,theflakeswouldhavespreadoveralargerarea,overthemattingtoo.
Therewouldn’tbeanyunderneath,likethis.Somethinghascausedthevarnishtoflakeoff.
“Thisfloorisn’toriginal,isit?”
Lucasstraightensup.“No.Theoriginalfloorswereunworkable.Thiswasonlymeanttobetemporary,butthentheplansfortheroomchangedsoweleftit.”
Elinnods,stillexaminingthematting.It’sthenshenoticesit:afinelinescoredthroughthesurface.Hereyesfollowit:thelinemeasuresroughlyafewsquarefeet.
Sherunsahandovertheline,fingertipstingling.
Thiscan’tbeacoincidence.
“Whatisit?”Lucasgivesheraquestioninglook.
“Idon’tknowyet.Givemeamoment.”Pullingherpenknifefromherpocket,shecrouchesdown,hookstheendofthebladeintoacornerofthescored-outline.Shepushesdownharduntilthecornerofrubbermattingliftsup.
Shetugsattheedge,peelingthesectionupandaway.
Beneaththerubbermattingisathinlayerofvinylfloortile.Unremarkable,exceptthatthis,too,isdottedwithtinyflecksofnailvarnish.Italsocontainsthesamescoremark:alargesquareinexactlythesameshapeastherubbermatting.
Elinfeelstheirregularflickingofherpulse.I’montosomething.
Hookingtheknifeintothelinescoredintothevinyl,shepeelsthesquareaway.Itcomesupsmoothly,easily,asifsomeone’sdonetheactionbefore.
Whenshe’sfinished,shestops,staring.Beneaththevinylisn’tthesolidconcreteflooryou’dexpect,butsomethingelseentirely.Awoodendoor,twometalhandlessittingretractedagainstthetop.Thesurfaceisthickwithdust,butElincanjustmakeoutmoredarkflakes.
Margot’sbeenhere.She’srepeatedlyliftedthisdoor,themattingabove,makinghervarnishflakeoff.
ElinlooksupatLucas.“Doyouknowwhatthisis?”
“No,”hereplieswithouthesitation.“I’veneverseenitbefore.”
“Notduringthebuild?”
“No.Whenwestartedtherefurbishment,thevinylflooringwaseverywhere.Itwasold,filthy.Uneven.Weinstructedthebuilderstolevelitwiththemattinguntilwedecidedwhatweweregoingtodowithit.”Helooksdownatthedoor.“Doyouthinkthisiswhere…?”
“It’spossible.”Elin’svoiceisuncertain.Ifthereisaroomunderthere,itwouldbetheidealplacetoholdsomeone.Easyaccesstothehotel,yetwithtotalprivacy.
Shegripsthehandlestightly,andheavesthedoorupward.Itgiveseasily,awaftofstale,mustyairrushingtowardthem.
Shepeersintothegap.Aninkyblackness.Shecan’tseeathing.
Pullingtheflashlightfromherbag,sheswitchesiton.
Thebeampicksoutthebeginningsofsomesteps,roughlyhewnfromstone.
“I’mgoingdown.”
“Now?”Lucaslooksatherinsurprise.
“Wecan’twait.We’vegottostopherbeforeshehurtsanyoneelse.”
“Okay,butI’mcomingwithyou.It’snotsafeforyoutogointherealone.”
“Fine.”Shemeetshisgaze.“ButI’mgoingfirst.”82
Withtheflashlightclampedinherrighthand,Elinwalksslowlydownthesteps,Lucasbehindher.Themustyodorisoverwhelming;theairhereisundisturbed,claggywithdust.
Afewstepsdown,sheturnstoLucas,lowershervoicetoawhisper.“Beforewegofartherin,canyoucheckifthere’sahandleontheunderside?”
Goingbackupthefirstfewsteps,heexaminesthebottomofthehatch.“Thereis.”
“SoMargotcouldhavecomeandgonethisway…”
shesays,thinkingoutloud.WiththeCCTVoff,shecouldeasilyhavemovedundisturbedinandoutofthisroomifnoonewasaround,evenifthehatchwasclosedfromabove.
“It’spossible.”
Whentheyreachthebottomofthesteps,Elinrealizesthey’vealmostlostthelightfromthearchiveroom.
Switchingonherflashlight,shemovesitaroundinacircletogetanideaofthespace.It’sopenedup,butnotbymuch.Adarkvoidstretchesawayfromher.
Atunnel.
Notabasementlikeshe’dimagined.Itmuststretchoutinfrontofthehotel,underthespa,thecarpark.
Perhapsevenfarther.
Asshesweepstheflashlightbeamacrossthewalls,shecanseethatlikethesteps,they’reroughlyhewn,thesurfacestreakedwithwater.
Flickingtheflashlightupward,shecanmakeoutanold-fashionedfluorescentstriplightfixedtotheceiling.
It’scoveredindust,theglassoutercasingfracturedwithtinycracks.
Elinstudiesit.Lightingimpliesthatthetunnelisinfactpartofthebuilding,notsomeadd-onconstructedatalaterdate.ShelookstoLucas.“You’resurethistunnelisn’tontheplans?”
“No,it’snot.”Hepullshisownflashlightfromhispocket,flicksiton.“Northesurveywehaddonebeforethebuild.”He’stryingnottoshowhisfear,butElincansenseit:thejerkymovementofhischestgivingawaytheshallownessofhisbreathing.
“Andyouhaven’tnoticedanysignsoutsideofthetunnelexit?Anyunusualstructures?”
“Nothing.Theexitmustbeblockedup,unlessitcomesoutmilesaway,whichwouldn’tmakesenseconsideringwhatitmighthavebeenusedfor.”
“Soyouknowwhatitmighthavebeenusedfor?”
“Ican’tsayforsure,buttherewereseveralsanatoriumsinLeysinwithtunnels.Theywereusedtocarryfoodandsuppliesdirectlyintothebuilding,andalso”—hisfeaturestighten—“totransportthedead,keepthemoutofsightofotherpatients.”
Elinabsorbswhathe’ssaid.Ifthiswastrue,thenhowdidn’theknowofitsexistence?Surelythetunnelwouldhavebeenrecorded,spokenabout?Unless,shethinks,it’salwaysbeenconcealedforsomereason.
“Perhaps,”shesays,feelingsickatthethought,“thedoctorswesawinthosephotographsusedthisspacetoo.
Thatmightbewhyit’snotrecorded.”
“Possibly.”
Shestartsmovingforwardagain,asenseofdisquietbuildingwitheverystep.
Afewyardson,there’sachange:thetunnelfloordividesintotwodifferentsurfaces.Theright-handsideisastairway.Ontheleft,thereisasmoothpath.
“Doyouknowwhyitwouldbebuiltinthisway?”
Lucasnods,hisnecksotensetheveinslooklikethey’reabouttobreakthroughtheskin.“Thisside,the
path,ifit’sthesameastheonesinLeysin,wasusedtotransportthebodiesusingmotorizedtrolleys.Thestepsrunningalongsideitwereforthestaff.”
Wishingshehadn’tasked,Elincontinueswalking,thebeamoftheflashlightonlyfaintlypuncturingthedarkness.Shestillcan’tseeanything:nosignsofhabitation.NosignsthatMargot’sbeenhere.
Havewegotitwrong?Whatifthisisn’tconnectedwiththekillingsatall?
It’sthenshenoticesthatLucas’sflashlighthasstoppedmoving.
It’sstationary,fixedonsomethingupahead.
“Thetunnel,”hewhispers,“itwidens,uphere.”
Walkingforwardafewsteps,shesweepsherflashlightfromsidetoside.
He’sright:thetunnelopensbeforecontractingagainfartherdown.She’sabouttogoonwhentheflashlightcatchessomething:aglimmerofmetalafewfeetfromtheground.
Movingcloser,shefocusesthebeamoftheflashlight,aninneralarmstartingtosound.Thesceneinfrontpullsclearofthedarkness:themetaltheflashlighthaspickedoutispartofatrolley.It’sstrewnwithrubbersheeting,roughlypulledback.Alengthofropeisattachedtothesides;twoatthetop,twoatthebottom.
Elinholdsherselfcompletelystill,assessing.Nearthebottomofthetrolleyareseveralcanvasbags,towelsscatteredbesidethem,severalbottlesofwater.Totheleftisasmalltablelitteredwithmetalinstruments:tongs,scissors,knife.
Bloodstainsthesurfaceofthem,dark,shiny.
Sheclampsahandoverhermouth.Thisiswhereithappened.ThisiswhereLaurewasmutilatedbeforeherdeath.Adeletoo.
Elinstares,imageafterimagefillingherhead.Herpalmsaresweaty,slickaroundtheflashlight.
“Thisiswhere…”Lucasdoesn’tfinishhissentence.
Helooksappalled.
“Yes.”Hervoicewavers.“Theperfectlocation.
Enoughroom,privacy.Easyaccesstothe…”Shebreaksoff,noticingsomething—adifferent,strongersmell.
Thefetidmustinessofthepastfewyardsofthetunnelhasbeenreplacedwithsomethingelse—thesmellofdecay.Somethingmeaty,metallic.
Elinstepsforward,herbreathingshallowernow.
Itmustjustbethebloodfromtheinstruments,thebloodMargot’striedtoclean;butwithoutanyventilation,it’slingered,caughtinthecracks.
She’sabouttoturnbacktoLucaswhenshenoticesit
—tuckedintothecurveofthetunnelwallatitswidestpart.
Elinfreezes,asudden,sharpwaveofnausearockingherstomach.
Impossible.83
Elinclampsahandoverhermouth,bilealreadyrisingandfillingherthroat,hermouth.
Margot.
She’shoistedontoastrangepulleysystem,fixedtoawoodenrack.
Thegrotesquerubbermaskishalfhangingoffherfacesoherprofileisclear,featureslividfromwherethebloodhaspooled,settled.
Oneeyeisclosed,theotheropen:vacant,lifeless.
Elinistremblingasshestares,tryingtogetahandleonwhat’sinfrontofher.
Hasshekilledherself?Committedsuicidebecausesheknewwewereontoher?
Butashereyestrackdownward,Elincanseethathertorsoisbeingpulledtautbyacomplexsystemofropesattachedatherwristsandankles.Theropearoundheranklesisconnectedtosomekindofcrank,aturningwheel.
There’snowayshecouldhavedonethistoherself.
Elin’sgazemovesleft,toMargot’shead.Ametalclampisfastenedtoherforehead,bloodtricklingdownherfacewhereithaspuncturedtheskin.Thesurfaceoftheclamphasmetalhooksonit,fixedtoalengthofrope.
This,inturn,isaffixedtoanotherturningwheel.
ThebloodfluttersinElin’searsashereyesmovetoMargot’sneck.Therearemarksonherskinwhereit’sstretchedandtorn.
Ifthemetalclamppuncturingherheaddidn’tkillherfirst,thentheforcefromthismedieval-stylerackhadbeenenoughtodetachherheadfromthespinalcord.
Instantdeath.
Picturesspoolthroughherhead,atickertape:Margotasshe’dseenheryesterday,andnowthis.Thisbarbarity.
Elinknowswithabsolutecertaintythatthiswillbetheoneshe’llremember,theonethatwillstickinherheadfortherestofherlife.
Takingadeepbreath,shewaitsforthefamiliarpanic.
Butitdoesn’tcome:herheadfeelssharp,clear,cuttingthroughtowhat’sinfrontofher,butthethoughtthatcomesnextalmostmakesherwishotherwise.
“Margotwasworkingwithsomeoneelse.”ElinturnstowardLucas.“Allthistime,she’sbeenworkingwithsomebodyelse.”84
There’snoreply.
Elinturnsinacircle,glanceswarilyaroundher.
“Lucas?”sherepeats,herwordsechoingoutinthedarknessofthetunnel.
Stillnoanswer.
Aprickleoffear:sheturnsagain,slowlythistime,movingtheflashlightinacircle.
Flashes:Themetaltrolley.Discardedequipment.Thestreakedconcreteofthewalls.
ButnoLucas.
Wherecouldhebe?
Hewasrightbehindheronlyafewmomentsago.Hermindturnsoverthepossibilities:perhapshesaworheardsomething,wentdeeperintothetunnel?
Walkingforward,shescansthespaceinfrontofher,mouthdry.
Nosignofhim.
Shestartstogobacktheotherwaywhenshehearsadistantthud.Herbrainscrambles;instantlydeciphersthenoise.
Thehatch.
He’sgone.Backthewaytheycame.
Asudden,devastatingflashofcomprehension;there’sonlyonereasonhe’drunatthismoment.
Hermindhooksontothenextconclusion:LucasisthepersonMargotwasworkingwith.He’sthekiller.
Butifthatwasthecase,whydidhenotkillherinthetunnel,whenhehadthechance?
Turning,shestartssprintingbackthroughthetunnel.
It’shardwork—theslightincline,thealtitude.Eachstridefeelsclumsy,useless,likeshe’snotmakinganyheadway.Abeadofsweattricklesdownherforehead.
Impatiently,shewipesitaway,carrieson.
HerthoughtslurchtoMargot:WhywouldLucaskillher?
Hadsomethinggonewrong,orwasthiswhatheintendedallalong?HadhegroomedMargottobetheperfectfallguy?Wantedittolooklikerevengesohecouldcarryouttherestofhisplanunhindered?
Thoughtsflashthroughhermind—whatCecilehadtoldher,hisrelationshipwithLaure,hispassionforthehotel.Hislies.
Itmakessense,doesn’tit?Hismotivecouldbeoneshe’sconsideredbefore,perhapsthebiggestmotiveofall:protectingthehotel.SheremembersCeciletalkingabouthispassionfortheplace:buildingamonumenttohimself
Isthissomedeludedattempttotrytoprotecthislegacy?It’spossible:themurdersanattempttoconcealthetruthaboutthesanatorium’sdarkpast.
Hadthepeoplehekilledknownsomethingaboutit?
Alogicalrationaleshouldhavetoldhimitcouldneverwork,butsheknewakiller’slogicwasneverrational.Inhismind,hiscourseofactionwouldmaketotalsense:theonlyviableconclusion.It’sthatsenseofutterconvictionthatenabledkillerstodowhattheydid—aruthlesssingle-mindedness.
Whatevertheanswer,sheknowsshehastoactfast.
Finally,shereachesthesteps.Shewalksupthefirstfew,tiltsherheadupward.It’scompletelydark:nolightfromthearchiveroomabove.
Hersuspicionwasright:he’sclosedthehatch.
Clampingtheflashlightbetweenherteeth,Elinreaches
up,pusheswithallherstrengthonthehandleattachedtotheunderside,butitdoesn’tbudge.
Shetriesagain;thistimefeelingthesurfacewithherfingers,tryingtofindaweakspot,butthereisn’tone.
Anewtactic:movingbackwardtothestepbelow,shecrouchesdown,thenspringsoffherfeet,propellingherselfupwardwithallofherbodyweight.
Itdoesn’twork;thewoodmovesonlyafraction,revealingjustathincrackoflight.
Stumblingslightlyasshelandsbackonthenarrowstep,Elinlooksallaroundwithasenseofrisingpanic;there’snootherwayout.
He’slockedherin.
Severalminutestickpastasshetriestocomeupwithaplan:noonebutLucasandCecileknowsshe’sdownhere.Cecilemightnotcomelookingforheryet,andthatwouldgiveLucasenoughtimetoexecutewhateverhehasplanned.
There’sprobablynopointinattemptingtogobackthroughthetunneltofindtheexit,sinceLucassaiditwaslikelytobeblocked.
Think,Elin,think.
Athoughtflashesintohermind—somethingbasicshehasn’tevenconsidered.
Myphone.
Shepivotsonthestepandfishesitoutofherpocket.
ThescreencomestolifebutnowElindoesn’tfeelsoclever—there’sonlyonebarofsignal,flickeringinandoutofrange.Shemovesitslowlybackwardandforward.
Nothing:theflickeringgoes,replacedbytwowords:NoService.
Thistime,shemovesashighasshecango,untilshe’scrouchedonthetopstep.Glancingatthescreen,sheseestheSwisscomnamehasappeared.Theflickeringbarbecomessolid.
Afaintsignal:itmightbeenough.Sittingonthestep,shetapsoutamessagetoIsaac.
Lockedinthearchiveroom.There’sanopeninginthefloorinthecenter
—likesomeone’setchedasquareintherubber.Liftitup,andthetilebeneath,andyou’llfindahatch.
Animmediatereply:Onmyway.
Severalminuteslatershehearssomethingoverhead:roughthuds,scrapes.
Aloudcreak,andallatoncethere’saninfluxoflight.
Elinblinks,momentarilyblinded.ShecanmakeoutIsaacdirectlyaboveher,kneelingovertheopening.Hisfaceisflushed,sweaty.
Reachingoutahand,hehelpsherup.“Areyouokay?”
Hisvoiceisgruff,thickwithemotion.
“I’mfine.”Straightening,shetakesadeepbreath.
“Margot’sdead,Isaac.”
“Dead?”Hisvoicecracks.“Butyouthought—”
“Iknow.ButIfoundher,downinthetunnel.”ShefaltersasanimageofMargot’sbrokenbodyfillsherhead.Horrible,graphicimages.
“Soitwasn’ther?”
Elinhesitates,tryingtogetherthoughtsstraightinherhead.“I’mnotsure.I’mprettysureshewasinvolved,butIthinkshewasworkingwithsomebodyelse.Thepersonwholockedmedownhere.”
Isaacfrowns.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Lucas,”shesaysbluntly.“Hecamedownwithme,tofindMargot.Hewaswithmethewholeway,andthenwhenIwasexaminingMargot’sbody,Iturnedaround,andhe’dgone.”
Isaacblowsouthischeeks,lettingoutaslowwhistleofair.“Butwhywouldn’thejustkillyou?Getyououtoftheway?”
“Idon’tknow,”Elinreplies.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutit.IwasdistractedbyMargot….Maybehedidn’tthinkheneededto.”
Isaaclooksanxiouslytowardthedoor.“Sowhatareyougoingtodonow?”
“We’vegottofindhim.Beforehegetstoanyoneelse.”85
WhenElinwalksintothelounge,it’sbrighter,butonlybarely—thewindowsrevealasilverymilkinesstotheskyoutsidethatmakesitseemmorelikedawnthanlatemorning.
Twosmallgroupsaregatheredatthetablesnexttothebar,butnoone’stalking.They’reontheirphonesorsippingtheirdrinks.
ElinnoticesCecileatthefirsttable;herhandsareclaspedaroundasmallcupofcoffee.
AsElinwalksover,nervesdanceinherstomach:HowisCecilegoingtoreactwhenItellheraboutLucas?
Cecilelooksup.Herfacelookspinched,drawn.
“How’sWill?”
“He’sstablefornow.”
“Good.”
Elinlowershervoice.“Cecile,weneedtotalkalone.”
“Okay.”Cecilestandsup,scrapingbackherchair.
Theymovetoatableontheothersideoftheroom,outofearshotofthegroupsbehind.
Takingaseat,Elinpullsathershirt.It’shot.Thefire,onlyafewfeetaway,isroaringinthehearth.
Infitsandstarts,sherecountswhat’shappened,pulledshortbytheconflictingexpressionsonCecile’sface—confusion,disbelief,andsomethingelse,somethingunexpected—asenseofresignation.
It’sasifsomething’scomeloose,cutadriftinherfeatures.
Hadshesuspectedallalong?
“YouhonestlythinkLucasispartofthis?”CecilesayswhenElinfinishes.Hereyeslooklikeshadows,hollowedout.
Elintakesalongbreath.“Heran,Cecile.Triedtolockmein.Theremightbeanotherexplanation,butI’mnotsurewhatitwouldbe.”
Cecile’ssilentforamoment,hergazepassingovertheglassboxsuspendedfromtheceilingonlyafewfeetaway.Elin’sseenitbefore;itcontainsanoldmanometermadefromglassandwood.Thenoteinsideexplainsitwasusedtomeasureairpressurewhenthesurgeoncollapsedthetuberculosispatient’slungs.
Seeingitnow,afterwhatshe’sdiscovered,Elinfeelsanabsoluterevulsion:Lucasknowinglyincorporatedthisintothedesign.Madeitafeature.
“Sowhatdoyouwanttodo?”Cecilesaysfinally.Inthemirrorbehindthebar,herreflectionseemstodistort,herheavyfeatureselongating.
“Twothings.Weneedtokeepeveryonetogether,makesurenooneleavesthisroom.ThenweneedtofindLucas.”
“Hecouldbeanywhere.Thehotel’shuge,andit’spossible,isn’tit,thatthere’sanotherhiddenspacelikethetunnel?”
“Yes,butifhe’splanningondoingsomethingelsesoon,it’smorelikelyhe’ssomewhereinthemainbuilding.”
Cecilegivesasingle,abruptnod,eyeshardening.
“Let’sstartwithhisoffice.”
???
Thespaceisunrecognizable;thepristine,designerperfectiondestroyed.
Lucas’sdeskisindisarray:paperslitteredacrossthesleekwoodensurface,severalnotebookslyingonthefloor.Drawersarewrenchedopen,hischairpushedawayfromthedesk.
It’slikeit’sbeenraided.Aburglary.
AchillmovesthroughElin,asickeninglurchofrealization:He’sbeenbackhere.Lookingforsomething.
Shegoesovertohisdesk,beginsleafingthroughthediscardedpapers.Mainlybusinessdocuments,copiesofpresentations.
Amongastackoffiles,hereyesalightonsomethingfamiliar.
Theletters—thethreatening,anonymousnotesLucashadshownher.ThelettersshenowknowswerefromLaure.
There’swhatlookstobeoveradozenofthem,alldifferent.Elin’shandsareclumsyasshegathersthemintoaloosepile.
He’dmentionedonlythree,hadn’the?
Hadthisbeengoingonlongerthanhesaid?Ifso,it’spossiblethatthesemighthavehadaparttoplayintriggeringthefirstmurder.Ifhe’dfeltunderthreat…
“Whatisit?”Cecileturnstowardthedesk.
“I’vefoundsomemoreletters…theonesLauresenthim.”
Shefrowns.“Whywouldhebelookingforthose?”
“Idon’tknow.”Shakingherhead,Elinlooksatthemagain,andthistimesomethingcatches,tuggingatherconsciousness.
Somethingabouttheroomdoesn’tlookright.
Ittakesheramomenttoworkoutwhatitis:thecupboards.
They’retheonlythingthathasbeenleftuntouched.
There’salonglineofthem,onlyafewfeetabovefloorlevel.
Asmalllockingmechanismsitshalfwayupeachdoor.
Elinwalksover,crouchingbesidethemtoexaminethelock.“Doyouhaveakeytothese?”
“No.He’sprobablygotitonhim.”
Standingbackup,Elincastshereyesaroundtheroom,lookingforsomethingsturdyenoughtobreakthelock.
There’salargeglasspaperweightonthecornerofLucas’sdesk.Grabbingit,shedropstoherknees.
Positioningthepaperweightabovethelockonthefirstandlargestcupboard,sheslamsitdownhardagainstthemechanism.
Itdoesn’twork—herpalms,damp,sweaty,losetheirgripontheglass,anditskimsoverthesurfacebeforethuddingtothefloor.
Shewipesherpalmsonhertrousers,triesagain.Thistimeshehitsthelockdeadinthecenter:itgiveswaywithaloudclick.
Workingherfingerintotheedgeofthedoor,sheslidesitopen.
Elinrecoils.
Thecupboard’sempty,baronething:amask.
Thesameblackrubbermaskthat’scastitshorrifyingshadowoverthepastfewdays.Withoutanyfeaturestofillit,it’sslack,collapsedinonitself.
Shecan’ttakehereyesoffit.Themomentstretches,acogturningdeepwithinherbrain.
There’snodoubtnow.It’sthesamemaskshesawonAdele’sandLaure’sbodies.Margot’stoo.
Lucasisbehindthis.
Cecileappearsbyherside.“Thatwasinthere?”Hervoicewavers.
“Yes.”Elinreachesforit,takinginthedetail:thehairlinecracksintherubber,thewidetubeconnectingnoseandmouth.
Turningitbetweenherfingers,anoutlineofathoughtstartstoform,butbeforeshecangetagriponit,itfragments,driftsaway.
Cecilecrouchesdownnexttoher.“Iknowhowthislooks,butitdoesn’tmakesense.”She’sgabbling,wordsrunningintooneanother.“Whywouldhesabotagethehotel,everythinghespentsolongtryingtobuild?Heknowsitwouldn’tsurvivethis,surely?”Reachingout,shetouchesthemask.“I’msureit’samistake.Amisunderstanding.”
ApitopensinElin’sstomach.Cecilewillgiveiteverythingshe’sgottoexplainthisaway.She’sstillprotectingLucas,evennow.
Yetshecan’tcondemnher,becausesheunderstandsit.It’swhatIsaacdidforheralltheseyears,isn’tit?Heldbackthetruth.Protectedher.
“Cecile,I—”
“I’lltrytheothercupboards,”Cecileinterrupts,reachingforthepaperweight.“I’msurehehasallkindsofthingslikethis.Artifactsfromthesanatorium.”Shegesturesaroundher.“Lookatthewalls,thepictures.
He’sinterestedinthehistoryoftheplace,that’sall.Itdoesn’tmeananythingmorethanthat.”
“Cecile,Iknowthisishard,but…”
Elindoesn’tgettofinishhersentence.Cecilestartsshaking,herhandslooseningtheirgriponthepaperweight.Rollingfromherlapontothefloor,itlandswithadullthud.
“This…”shestarts,voicecracking,“it’smyfault.Allmyfault.”
Elincanseetheresignationinhereyes.
Sheknows,doesn’tshe?Sheknowswhathe’sdone.
“It’snotyourfault,Cecile.”Shelaysahandonherarm.“Noneofthisis.”
“Itis.”Cecileturnstoher.Hereyesarered,bloodshot.
“There’ssomethingIhaven’tbeenhonestabout.
Somethingyoushouldknow.”86
Cecilestandsup,andwalksovertothewindow.“It’stodowithDaniel.Whathappenedtohim.”Hereyesslidetowardthefloor.
Morelies,Elinthinks,straightening.Lieafterlieafterlie.
“BeforeDanielwentmissing,he’dbeenatameetingatthesanatoriumwithLucasandthebuildingcontractors.
Nooneknewanythingwaswrongatthatpoint.Hiswifehadreceivedamessagefromhim,sayinghe’dgonefordinnerintown,hadtoomanydrinkstodrivehome,andwasplanningonstayingwithhisparentsinCrans.”
Elinnods,silent.
“Thenextday,Lucas’sbuildingmanagercameup.
Onlyakid,checkingonthebuildingonceaweek.Itwasmoreorlessderelict.Peoplekeptbreakingin.”Cecilestops,eyesdriftingawaytowardthewindow.“Thatafternoon,Lucasgotacall.Thekidhadstartedcheckingtherooms.Inoneoftheoldwards,hefoundabody.”Shetakesalongbreath.“Dismembered,amaskovertheface.”
“Likethisone?”Elinglancesatthemaskinherhands.
Shegivesasharpnod.“LucaswasattheofficeinLausannewhenthekidcalled.Toldhimnottotellanyone,thathe’dgetthereassoonashecould.Lucassaidafterwardthatpartofhimhadhopeditwasastupidprank.Oneoftheprotesters,butno…”Cecile’sfacecloses.“Theboywasright.Therewasabody.Daniel’sbody.”
“I’mguessinghedidn’tcallthepolice.”Elinbitesdownonherlip,herminddesperatelytryingtodissect
whatCecile’ssaying.Shehassomanyquestions,shedoesn’tknowwhichtoaskfirst.
“No.Hecalledme,inapanic,askedwhatheshoulddo.Iwasatourparents’houseintown.Imethimhere.”
Cecilebringsahanduptohermouth,astrangenoisecomingfromherthroat:anuneven,gulpyexhalation.
“Danielwasstretchedoutononeofthoseinvalidchairs,thathorriblemaskstillattachedtohisface.”Tearsspringtohereyes.Shereachesup,wipesthemaway.
“Andyoustilldidn’tcallthepolice?”Elinhearstheaccusatorytoneinhervoice,butshecan’thelpit.Partofherdoesn’twanttohearwhat’scomingnext,butsheforcesherselftolisten.
“No.Lucasdidn’twantto.Hewasinapanic,saiditwouldkilltheprojectdeadinthewater.”Cecileshrugs.
“Hewasright.Therewasalreadysomuchoppositiontotherenovation,itwouldn’tsurvivethis.”Shehesitates.“Iknewwhatthismeanttohim.He’dpouredeverythingintoit—notjustmoney,capital,buthislife.Marriage.
Everything,intothisoneproject.”
“Sowhatdidyoudo?”
“LucasgotridofDaniel’sbody.Gotitawayfromthescene.”
“Youdidn’taskwhathedidwithhim?”Elin’svoiceisstillaccusing,brittle.
“No.”Cecile’sfacebrieflyhardens.“Ididn’twanttoknow.I’ddonemypart.Promisedtokeephissecret.”
“Butwhataboutthescene,wherehe’dbeenmurdered?SurelythepolicesearcheditwhenDanielwasreportedmissing.Fromwhatyou’vedescribed,therewouldhavebeenblood,evidence.”
“Lucascleaneditup,madeitlooklikeithadneverhappened.Movedfurnitureabout,shiftedsomeofthefilth.Itwaseasyenough.Theplacewasamesstobeginwith.”Shelooksdownatherhands.“Thepoliceweren’tverythorough.Theirmaintheoryatthattimewasthathe’dgoneofhisownaccord.”
“ButwhataboutthebuildingmanagerwhofoundDaniel?Surelyhe’dhavewantedtogotothepolice?”
“Lucasbribedhim.”Cecile’svoicesoundshollow,tinny.“Paidhimalotofmoneyinthehopehe’dgoaway.
Andhedid.”
Elintriestoshoreupherthoughts.“SodidyoutalktoLucasafterAdele’sbodywasfound?Discussthesimilarities?”
“Yes,buthesaidifwetoldyouaboutwhathappenedtoDaniel,we’dbearrested.Concealingabody,notreportingit,hidingtheevidence.”Cecile’svoiceissmall,hershouldersrounded.Itmakesherlooksomehowdiminished.“Lucassaidhehopedthatwe’dfindwhoeverwasdoingthis,thatnoonewouldconnectAdele’scasetoDaniel.Ineverthoughthe’dbetheone…”Hervoicesplinters.
Elinlooksather,suddenlyweary.Howmanymorelieswouldemerge?Peopleonlytellingherhalfthestory…She’sbeenatadisadvantagethiswholetime.
Cecile’squietforamomentbeforeshespeaksagain.
“Youknow,Lucassaidsomethingwhenhefinallycameoutofthehospitalthat’salwaysstuckwithme.Hesaidhe’dhadenoughofbeinghelpless,peopletellinghimwhattodo.”Shestops,stumblingoverherwords.“Hesaid,‘Fromnowon,I’mgoingtodowhatIwant.Tohellwithanyonewhostandsinmyway.’”
Elinwatchesthesnowdanceagainsttheglass.
Hegothiswish.Noonecouldcallhimhelplessnow.
SheturnsbacktoCecile.“I’mgoingtostartsearchingroomtoroom.Canyougobacktothelounge,checkoneveryone?”
“Youdon’twantmetocomewithyou?”
“No.Ifheseesmorethanoneperson,hemightgetspooked.We’vegottoplaythiscarefully.”
“Ifyou’resure…”Cecilewalkstowardthedoor.“Callmeifyouneedanything.”
“Iwill,”Elinreplies,andassheputsthemaskbackinthecupboardandpicksupherbag,sherealizesCecile’swordsaboutwhatLucashadsaidarestillrollingaboutinhermind:
Fromnowon,I’mgoingtodowhatIwant.Tohellwithanyonewhostandsinmyway.
Somethingshiftsdeepinherbrain,acogturning.
Stopping,shestaresatthefloor,tryingtoprocessit.
Coulditberight?
Orishermindexhausted,overworked,imaginingthings?Ascratchacrossvinyl—herbrainjumpingtothewrongplace,findingthewrongconclusion.
There’sonewaytocheck:lookfortheevidence.
Somethingconcrete,irrefutable.
Reachingforherphone,shefindsthesitesheneedsinseconds.Herhandsareclammy,herfingerleavingdampprintsonthescreenasshescrolls,tryingtofindtherelevantsection.
Toofast—she’sgonetoofar.
Sheforcesherselftoslowdownandscrollcarefullybackup.
Thewordsleapfromthescreen.
Mytheory:it’sright.
It’sthen,asshelooks,thatsomethingelsepullsintoherconsciousness.Somethingsosubtleitmightneverhavefoundherunlessshe’dmadetheotherconnection.
Elinwalksbackovertothecupboardandopensthedoor.Kneelingdown,shepullsoutthemask,bringsitclosetoherface.Shebreathesin,adeep,forensicinhalation.Themaskslipsdownontoherlap.
I’mright.I’mright.
Thingsarefinallycomingtogether.Littlepiecescoalescing:fragmentsofconversation,bodylanguage.
There’snodoubtnow.
Shejusthopesshe’snottoolate.
Inthedistanceadoorslams.Adull,mutedthud.
Elinfeelssick,herbodyfloodedwithadrenaline.
Timefeelscompressed,foldeddowntonothing.Howlongwillittake?Threeminutes?Four?
Shebreaksintoarun.87
Theslidingdoorsslowlypart,spittingheroutintoamassofwhirlingsnow.
Elinstepsforwardontothedecking,breathingheavily:shehasn’tstoppedrunningsinceleavingLucas’soffice.
Steadyingherself,shescanstheareainfrontofher,squintingthroughthesnow.Thepoolcoverisretracted,thewaterlurid,obscenelybrightabovetheunderwaterspotlights.Steamissnakingintotheair,butasitebbsandflows,shecanmakeoutafigurebythemainpool.
Lucas.Shewasright.Sheknewifhewasn’tbytheindoorpool,he’dbehere.
Buthe’snotalone.Everythingshe’sassumed—it’strue.
Shestartsjoggingtowardhim,kickingthroughthesnow.Snowflakesarecomingatherface,hereyesliketiny,featheredbullets.Adrenalineisspiking,makingherclumsy,herfeetgivingwayonthesoftpowder.Shehastoconsciouslyshiftherweightbackwardtopreventherselffromslipping.
Finally,shereachesthemainpool.Lucasisslumpedacrossoneoftheloungersonthefarright-handside.Hetriestoturnhisheadtowardher,butthemovementispuppetlike,jerky.Hiseyesrollbackinhisskull,revealingsliversofreddish-white.
AmItoolate?
Pickingupthepace,sheskirtsthesideofthepooluntilshereacheshim.
“It’sokay,he’scomingaround.”Cecileisstandingoverhim,bentatthewaist,tryingtoprophimupright.
There’ssomethingofthenurseinherdemeanor,fussing,maternal,butElinisn’tfooled.
“Youcanstoptheact,Cecile.”Hervoiceisslow,calm,thesimplicityofherwordsprojectingaconfidenceshedoesn’tfeel.“Iknowit’syou.YouweretheoneworkingwithMargot.NotLucas.”
Cecilecontemplatesher,frownlinespickingatherforehead.
ShereturnsElin’sdeliberatetones,butthey’relacedwithcondescension,asifshe’stalkingtoachild.“No.Ifoundhimherelikethis.I’mtryingtohelp.”
ElinknowsinstantlythatCecile’schosenthewrongreaction:facedwithanaccusation,sheshouldbewild,incredulous.Defensive.Notthis:thismeasuredsuperiority.
Itgivesheraway.
AnoisecomesfromLucas:aliquid,throatysound.
Shestudieshim.He’sshiftedpositionsoshecanseetheleftsideofhisface.Abovehiseyebrow,hisforeheadisstickywithblood,aclottedmassaroundhistemple.
Hisskinispale,dampfromeithersweatorsnow.Elinclearsherthroat.Hermouthfeelsdry,emptyofsaliva.
Sheneedstoplayfortime.
“Iknowit’syou.Yougaveitaway.Youwereclever,untilthelastfewmoments.”
Cecile’sexpressionisinscrutable.“Gaveitaway?”sherepeats.
“Yes.Whatyousaidbackthen,inLucas’soffice.‘Fromnowon,I’mgoingtodowhatIwant.Tohellwithanyonewhostandsinmyway.’Thatexpression…IrealizedI’dreaditsomewherebefore.Ablog,protestingaboutthehotelbeingbuilt.SomeonedescribedLucasusingthoseverywords.ThesamecommentonTwittertoo.”Elinhesitates.“Youweretrollingyourownbrother,becausethisiswhatit’sabout,isn’tit?Him.”
Thewordsrollacrossthespacebetweenthem,buttheydon’tseemtofindCecile:sheseemsbuffered,unreachable.
“Anexpression?”Herfacecurlsup:amimicofdisbelief.“You’reaccusingmebecauseofaturnofphrase?”
“It’snotonlythat.”Elinstraightensuptoherfullheight.“IsmelledchlorineonthemaskinLucas’sstudy.
Ikeptnoticingitinplacesitshouldn’tbe…whenIfoundLaureintheliftandwhenIwasattackedinthestairwellleadingfromthepenthouse,butitdidn’tregister,notuntiltoday.Youswimeveryday,don’tyou?”
Cecilelooksather,silent,thewindpullingherhairaboutherface.Still,noemotion.
“That’showIguessedyou’dbringhimhere,tothepool.Eithertheindoorpool,orthisone.It’syourcomfortzone,isn’tit?Theoneplaceyoufeelathome.”
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Cecile’svoiceisempty.“Whatyou’resaying,it’ssupposition.
Nothingmore.”
“It’snot.Thisisn’tjustaboutthehotel,thesanatorium’spast.It’spersonal,betweenyouandLucas.
He’sdonesomething,somethingyoucan’tforgive.
Somethingthat’smadeyouseekrevenge.”
“No,I—”
Elincontinues,sensingaweakness.“This,what’shappened,everyoneyou’vekilled,you’vebeenclever,makingitaboutthesanatorium,asthoughitwereallaboutthepast,butit’snot.”ShefixeshereyesonLucas.
“It’sabouthim,isn’tit?Hestartedthis.”
Ceciletakesastepback.It’snowthefa?adeslips:shefalters,beforerecovering.“No,look,I—”
Movingforward,Elin’sbootsareburieddeepinthesnow.“Whatdidhedo,Cecile?Tellmewhathedid.”
Cecile’sfacecrumples,herfeaturescollapsingasifsomeonehadcrushedthemunderfoot.Astrange,bitternoiseescapesfromdeepinsideherthroat.
“It’snotaboutwhathedid.It’swhathedidn’tdo.
NoneofthisstartedwithLucas.”Herfacetwitches.“ItstartedwithDaniel.DanielLemaitre.Herapedme.”ShegesturestoLucas,handjerkingouterratically.“Heknew,anddidnothingaboutit.”88
There’saheavysilence.AsilenceElinhasn’texperiencedsinceshe’sbeenhere.Shecanfeelthewinddropping,thesnow,forthefirsttime,fallingstraighttotheground.
“Nothingtosay?”Cecile’sgazeflickerstoLucas.
Besideher,thewatershimmers,steamcoilingintotheair.
Helooksatherbeneathheavylids,unresponsive.
“Comeon,youweretherethatnight,Lucas,weren’tyou?AfterDaniel’sbirthdayparty,inSion.Hiseighteenth.Youdroveusback,agroupofus,toDaniel’splace.Westayedover,everyonecrashedinthelivingroom.”
Cecile’stoneisstilllackinginemotion,avoidwherefeelingshouldbe.
Elinknowsthatthistypeofemotionisalwaysdangerous.Unlikeafiery,passionaterage,acold,bitterangerlikethiscan’tburnitselfout.It’sgonepastthatpointandhardenedintosomethingsolid.Unbreakable.
“Itwasn’toneofthoseclichés,”Cecilecontinues.“Astranger,draggingmeofftosomedarkalley.Hewasmyfriend.Yourbestfriend.Practicallypartofthefamily,andIwassixteen,Lucas.Akid.”
“Cecile,don’t—”Lucas’swordsareslurred.
“Whatisit,Lucas?Youdon’tlikehearingwhatyoutriedtoignore?”Herexpressionhardens.“DanielandIwerekissing,laughingaboutneedingtobequiet,notwakinganyone.Thenhestartedpullingupmydress,nudgedmylegsapart.Itriedtosaynobutheclampedhishandovermymouth,andthenherapedme.”Sheshakesherhead,self-recriminatory.“Ididnothing.
Froze.TheoppositeofwhatIthoughtI’ddoinasituationlikethat.Justlethimdoit.”
Lucaswatchesher,tinyflakesofsnowcatchinginhishair.
“Whenhefinallyclimbedoffme,Iturnedmyheadtoyou.Youpretendedtobeasleep,butI’dseenyoureyesopen.Iknewyouwereawake,hadseenwhathe’ddone.”
Heclearshisthroat.“Thatisn’tright,Cecile,youknowitisn’t.”
“Itis,Lucas.Itsoundsunbelievable,doesn’tit?Thatyouwouldn’thavedonesomething?Triedtostophim?Ithoughtsotoo.Thenextday,Ikeptrunningthroughitinmymind,wonderingwhyyoudidn’tpullhimoff,butIgaveyouthebenefitofthedoubt.Thoughtyouweren’tsurewhatyou’dseen,ordidn’twanttoembarrassme.”
Shestepstowardhim.
Elintenses.Despitethecold,shecanfeelsweatbeadingonherforehead.
“Ineverthoughtthatwouldbeit,Lucas.Ikeptwaitingforyoutosaysomething,askmewhathappened,ifIwasokay.”Cecilehesitates,anewrhythm,curious,autonomic,toherwords.“Ihaditallplannedout:whatwouldhappenafterwetalked,howwe’dgotoourparents,tellthepolice.”
Lucas,too,hassensedsomethingawryinherrobotictone.He’srousingslightly,tryingtochangeposition,lifthimselfhigher,butthesedativeshe’sgivenhimismakinghismovementsslow,labored.
“Butitdidn’thappen,didit,Lucas?”
“Cecile,Iwasakid.Webothwere.Ididn’tknowexactlywhathappened,howtohandleit.”
“No.”Hereyesharden.“Youweren’takid.Akidmightlieonce,butnottwice.”SheturnstoElin.“Afewweekslater,Imanagedtotellourparents.”Herwordsarecrisp,precise.“Theyaskedyou,didn’tthey,Lucas?Iknowtheydid.Theyaskedyouandyoulied.Pretendedyouhadn’tseenanything.”
Elinseesthefirstflickerofemotion,andwithitaglimpseofsomethinginCecile’shand—ablade,overheadlightsbouncingbeadsofreflectionoffthemetal.Shecanfeelherfingersjudderingatthesight,hastoclampthemintoafisttostopthemovement.
“AftereverythingI’ddoneforyou…allthosehoursinthehospital,thenatschool,standingupforyouagainstthebullies.ThiswastheonethingIneededyoutodoforme,andyoucouldn’tdoit.Couldn’tputyourheadabovetheparapet.”
Lucas’sexpressionchanges,ajerkymovefromshocktoguilt.HisbloodshoteyesroamacrossCecile’sfacebeforehehangshishead.“I’msorry.”
“No,”Cecilesaysflatly,hergripontheknifetightening,knucklesturningwhite.“Sorrydoesn’tdoitnow,Lucas.Becauseyoudidn’tstandupformeandtellthetruth.MamaandPapatriedtocoverthewholethingup.Thoughttherewasan‘explanation.’”Sherollshereyes.“TheyknewIhadacrushonhim,soIneverworkedoutiftheysimplydidn’tbelievemeorjusttooktheeasywayout.Chosenottorocktheboatbecausetheywerefriendswiththefamily,andDanielwasPapa’sgoldenboy.Alltheysaidwasthatitwasover,thatbadthingshappensometimesandtherewasnopointgoingoverit,makingmyselfupset.”Shegivesanicysmile.
“EvenwhenIfoundoutIwaspregnant,theytoldmenottomakeafuss.Ihadanabortion,andthatwastheend,intheireyes.”
Lucasturnshishead.Elinknowswhyhecan’tlookatCecile:guilt.He’stryingtoliterallyblockitout,blockCecileout.
“Thingswereneverthesameafterthat.”Ceciletakesabreath.“WhenItriedtoswim,allIsaw,witheverystroke,washisfaceloomingoverme.Everypore,everyfreckle.Hisbodypushingdownonmine,provingitwasstrongerthanme.”Shepauses.“Itmademefeel…tiny.
ThatallthestrengthIhadinthepool…itwasimagined.Nothingcomparedtohisstrength,hispower.”
Cecilestepsforwardagain,twistingthehandleoftheknifebetweenherfingers
Lucas’seyesspringopen,sensingthemovement.
“That’showhemademefeel,youknow.Likenothing.”Cecileholdsupherhand,onlyatinygapremainingbetweenfingerandthumb.“Thatsmall.Afraud.EverytimeIgotinthepool,Icouldn’tperform.
Theracing,mycareer…itwasover.”
“Butyouneverspoketomeaboutit.”Lucas’swordsarestillslow,indistinct.“Ididn’tknowhowithadaffectedyou.”
“Youdidn’task,Lucas.Youdidn’taskbecauseitwaseasiertolooktheotherway.Danielwasyourfriendandyouchoseyourfriendoverme.”
Shefallssilent.Elinwatchesher,sensingthere’smoretocome.
“Isuppressedit,triedtobenormal.Igaveuponswimming,wenttohotelschoolinLausanne.IstartedtoconvincemyselfIcouldhaveadifferentfuture,thatIwouldn’tbedefinedbywhatDanielhaddone.”Cecilekicksatthesnowonthedeckingwithherfeet.“That’swhenImetMichel.Ayearorsolater,Itriedtogetpregnant.Nothinghappened.Wehadtests,andthespecialistsaidIcouldn’tgetpregnant.Ihadaninfectionaftertheabortion….Itmademeinfertile.”
Elintenses.Shedoesn’tlikeCecile’stone.Theunnaturalcoherence,thedisciplineofherwords…itfeelswrong.
“That’swhenourmarriagestartedcrumbling.Michellefteightmonthslater.HesaiditwasbecauseI’dchanged,butIknewitwasbecauseIwasdamaged.Hewantedsomeonewhole,someonewhofunctionedproperly.”
“Youshouldhavetoldme,”Lucassays.“Youshouldhavetoldmeallthis.”
Butit’sasifCecilecan’thearhim.Shecarrieson,relentless.“That’swhenyoucalled,toldmeaboutyourplansforthesanatorium,askedmetobeapartofit.”
Shegivesagrimnod.“Iknewthatwasmychanceto
confrontDaniel,makehimacknowledgewhathe’ddone.”
“Youspoketohim?”Lucasshiftspositiononthelounger.Bloodistricklingdownhisface,runningfromhiseyebrowtohischeek,buthedoesn’treachuptowipeitaway.HisfocusisonCecile.
Cecilemovescloser,rightbesidehim.Herposturewouldalmostbecasual,ifitweren’tfortheknifeinherhand.“Yes.AfewweeksafterIcameback.Itoldhimyou’daskedmetoworkforyou,wantedtoknowifhewasokaywithit.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
“Thathewasfinewithit.Therewasnothing.Notevenaflicker.”Cecile’seyesdarken.“Youknow,Iusedtowonderwhetherheeverthoughtaboutit.Ifwhathe’ddonehadeatenhimupovertheyears,thatwhenheclosedhiseyesatnight,herememberedme,butseeinghimthen,Iknewhedidn’t.Iknewhe’dneverbeheldaccountable,notevenbyhimself.He’dsweptitaside,maybeevenconvincedhimselfthatI’dwantedit,ormaybehedidn’tevenremember.”Shehesitates.“Eitherway,he’dreducedme.Compartmentalizedme.Justlikethedoctorsdidhere.Thedoctorswhoweretrustedtomakepeoplebetter.”
CecileturnstofaceElin.“Yousee,that’swhereyou’rewrong,aboutthisnotbeingaboutthesanatorium,whathappenedhere.Thisplace,itssecrets…theywerethefinalstraw.”HergazeflicksbacktoLucas.“Youtellher,Lucas.Tellherthetruthaboutthisplace.”89
Lucas’svoiceislow,stillslightlygarbled.“Beforethebuildstarted,Margotcontactedus,askingquestionsaboutoneofherrelatives.MargothadfoundoutfromaclinicinGermanythatshe’dbeentransferredhere,tothesanatorium.Wesearched,couldn’tfindanythingintheofficialfiles.Isaidwe’dlookintoit.”
“Margotcontactedyoudirectly?”Elinclenchesherhandstogetherthenreleases.Herfingersarefreezingnow,numbatthetips.
“Yes.Welookedasshe’dasked,foundsomethinginacupboardinoneoftheoldwards.Abox.Youcouldtellithadn’tbeenopenedforyears.Inside,Ifounddocuments,photographs,patientfiles.Diaries.Allwomen.Istartedreading,andIrealizedthatthesepatients…theydidn’thaveTB.Thatwasn’twhattheycametothesanatoriumfor.”
Elinabsorbswhathe’ssaid,feelsahorriblesenseofinevitabilityaboutwhat’scomingnext.
“ThepatientswerereferredfromtheclinicinGermany.Whiletheywerehere,theyparticipatedintrials.Itstartedoffasexperimentationfornewtreatments,thenitseemedto”—hisvoicefalters
—“escalate.Themorewedug,themorewefound.
Photographs,records,butyoucouldtellfromtheimages,thenotes,thattheyweren’texperimentsanymore.
They’dbecomesomethingelse.”
“Itwasabuse.”Cecile’svoiceisbarelyaudible.“Theage-oldabuseofpower;itwasanexploitationofvulnerablewomen.”ShemeetsElin’sgaze.“Thewomenhadnothingclinicallywrongwiththem.TheyweresenttotheclinicinGermanybytheirfathers,husbands,
doctors,undertheguiseofamedicalcondition,butoftenitwassimplybecausetheirbehaviorwentagainstthestatusquo.Ofwhatwasacceptableforwomenatthetime.Theyhadtoomanyideas,weretoooutspoken.Itwasn’tuncommon.”Sheturnsherfacetothefloor,disgustmarringherfeatures.“Someofthem,theunluckyfew,weretransferredhere.”
Nodding,Elinkeepshervoicelevel.“Sowhydidn’tyoubringthefilestolightrightaway?”
“Lucassaidthenegativepresswouldaffectthehotel.
Allhewantedwastocarryonwiththebuild.”Cecilegrimaces.“Danielhadthesamereactionwhenwetoldhim.‘It’sinthepast.Forgetit.’”
“Cecile,that’snotfair.”Lucastriestositup.“Ifpeopleknewwhathadhappened,therewouldhavebeenaninvestigation,itwouldhaveaffectedtheplansforthehotel.”
“Nothingwasgoingtostopyou,wasit?Thehotel,itwasallthatmattered.”SheglancesatElin.“LucasandDanielalreadyknewaboutthegraveinthephotograph,thatthereweremore.Itgotflaggedduringthesurveyofthesite.Lucaschosetoignoreit.Carryon.Anotherbribe.Anotherpersonchoosingtolooktheotherway.”
Lucaswincesasheshiftsposition.“Ididn’tseewhysomethingthathappenedsolongagoshouldaffectwhatthisplacehadthepotentialtobecome.”
“Butthat’sit,Lucas.Can’tyousee?Thepointis,it’sstillhappening.Everyabuseofpower,everyrape,everyharassment.It’sstillhappening.”Cecilecrouchesdownnexttohim,herfaceclose,onlyinchesfromhis.“It’stooeasy,isn’tit?Toturntheothercheek.Ignoretheconsequences.Evenworse,we’recomplicitinit.Notjustmen,it’swomentoo.”
“Women?”Elinmovesforwardastep,hopingCeciledoesn’tnotice.
“Yes.Adele.ShewaswithLucas’sbuildingmanagerwhentheyfoundDaniel’sbody.Hisgirlfriend.Shewasboughtoff,likehewas.Lucasgaveherajobhereona
highlyinflatedsalary,goodenoughtokeephermouthshut.”
Thatexplainsthelinkbetweenthepair.TheInstagramphoto.“WefoundaphotographofAdeleandLucastogether,hereinthehotel.Aparty.Itlookedlikeanargument.”
“Yes.Shewasaskingformoremoney.”Lucas’svoiceismuffled.
ElinturnsbacktoCecile.“ButyoukilledDaniel,Cecile.Murderedhim.WhywouldyouhavewantedAdeletotalk?”
Cecilelooksather,hereyesbright,glittering.Forthefirsttime,Elincanseerealemotion.“BecauseIneverwantedtobeanonymous.WhenIkilledDaniel,Iexpectedtogetcaught.Iwantedmystorytobetold,thosewomen’sstoriestobetold.IwantedpeopletoaskwhyI’dkilledhimlikeIhad,butno.Everyonewantedtocoveritup.”
“Butyoucouldhavegonetosomeone,thepolice,thepress.Toldyourstorythatway.”
Cecilelooksatherindisbelief.“IfIwenttothepressmyself,Iknewitwouldhavebeenmywordagainsthis.
Noonebelievedmebackthen,sowhywouldtheythistime?Theonlywaytogetjusticewastodoitmyself.
Makethempay.”
Elinstaresather,everythingpullingintosharpfocus;amacabre,rawlogic.Revengeinitsmostbrutalform,tippingthepowerbalancebacktheotherway.
“SowhythegapbetweenkillingDanielandAdele?”
“Iwaswaitingfortherighttime.WhenIfoundoutAdelewasaskingLucasformoremoney,somethingsnapped.Iknewshehadtogo.”
“Andbythattime,youhadMargotonboard,too,didn’tyou?Shewasvulnerable,soyougroomedher.”
“Iwouldn’tcallitgrooming.Shewassimplyopentosuggestion.Hermotherhadrecentlydied.She’ddevelopedafixationaboutherrelative.”
“Afixation?”Elinrepeats.“Shewasill,Cecile.Shehadaseriousformofdepression.Psychoticdepression.IfoundprintoutsinLaure’sdesk.Iassumedtheywerehers,butshewasresearchingitbecauseshewasworriedaboutMargot,wasn’tshe?Laurehaddepressionherself,sheknewthesigns.”
Cecileswipesherhandthroughtheairimpatiently,dismissingElin’swords.“Itdoesn’tmatterwhatyoucallit.Thereasonbehinditiswhat’simportant.”
“Cecile—”
“No.It’strue.BeforeMargot’smotherdied,sheaskedhertofindoutwhathappenedtoMargot’sgreat-grandmother.Herdisappearance…ithadscarredeverygenerationoftheirfamily.Consumedhergrandmother,nowhermothertoo.Alltheywantedwasanswers.ButwhenMargotfoundoutwhatthetruthreallywas,itdidn’tgiveheranypeace.Itunleashedsomethingdark.
Theenvelopeyoufoundwiththephotographsinside…
shecarrieditwithhereverywhere.Shewasobsessedbyit.”
“Andyouseizedonthatobsession,didn’tyou?Hervulnerabilitymadeherawillingpuppet.Youusedher.
Shehelpedyou,didn’tshe?Withthemurders?”
“That’showIknew,”Lucassaysquietly.“That’showIworkeditout,inthetunnel.WhenIrealizedMargotwasworkingwithsomeoneelse,somethingclicked.IknewithadtobeCecile.Onlyshecouldknowaboutthetunnel’sexistence,andonlysheknewthetruthaboutwhathappenedtoMargot’sgreat-grandmother.Iknewshecouldhaveexploitedthat,gotMargottoworkwithher.”
“Butwhylockmein?”Elinsays.
“Iwantedtotalktoher.Brothertosister.Giveherachancetoexplain.ButIdidn’tgetthatchance.Shewaswaitingforme.Shedidn’twanttotalk.”
“SowhatdidyouaskMargottodo?”
“Restrainthem.Shedidn’thavethestomachforanythingelse.”Cecilegivesaslightsmile.“Anyway,herinvolvementisLucas’sfault.Allshewantedwas
recognition,anacknowledgmentofwhathappenedatthesanatorium,hergreat-grandmother’sstorytobetold.
Somekindofmemorial,amarkinthesand,forthosewomen’svoicestobeheard,butLucasdidnothing.”
“Iwasplanningthearchiveroom…”
“Butyouneverwentthroughwithit.Youhadnorealintentionofcompletingit.ItwasjusttogetMargotoffyourback.Evenworse,youofferedherajobtoassuageyourguilt.Asifthatwouldbeenough.”Cecilelooksathimindisgust,hercheeksshiningnow,amixtureoftearsandsnow.“Andyouputthoseglassboxesaroundthehotel.Fetishizingthesanatorium’spast,usingitasentertainmentfortheguests.Aftereverythingyouknew.”
“Soyoudecidedtoflipitonitshead…”
“Yes.Iputthevictimsondisplay,justlikethedoctorsdidwiththosewomeninthephotographs.”
“ButwhataboutLaure?”Elin’svoicecatchesonhername.“Whykillher?ShewasMargot’sfriend,yourcolleague.”
“Shewasthesameasalltherestintheend.
Cowardly.”Cecilewipesahandoverherface.“ItstartedwithherflingwithLucas.He’dtreatedherbadly.Shewasupsetandbitter,startedaskingquestionsaboutthebuild,thebriberyandcorruptionclaims.Shewasplanningtopublishitonablogtoexposehim,butneverwentthroughwithit.Whenshegotbackwithyourbrother,shedecidedtoforgetitall.”
“Soyougotinvolved,”Elinsays,aflutteroftrepidationinherthroatasshewatchesCecile’shand,holdingtheknife,moveclosertoLucas’sface.
Anod.“That’swhenIuppedthestakes.Afewmonthsago.”Cecilejerkstheknifeupwardtoemphasizeherpoint.“GotMargottogiveherthememorystickwiththeredactedfiles.Wethoughtshe’dbeintrigued,wanttofindoutwhatwasgoingon,butshebalked.Saidshedidn’twanttobeinvolved.EvenwhenMargotshowed
hertheunredactedfiles,thefullstory,shewasn’tinterested.”
“Butthat’sanormalreaction.Shewasprobablyscared.”
“No.”Cecile’sfacetwists,nowaviolent,angryred.“Itwasn’t.Shewantedtolooktheotherway.LikeLucas.
LikeAdele.”Hereyesflash.“EvenMargotintheend.
Evenshe’dhadenough,wantedtostop.”
“ButwhykillLaure?Shewasnothreattoyou.”
Elintriestotakeadeepbreath,butherchestistight.
Notfromthecold,butfromanger.DespiteherfearofwhatCecile’sabouttodonext,shefeelsunmovedbyherjustifications—justificationsforhorrificactsthatonlymakesensetoher.
“Itwasnecessary.WhenLucasandIcamebackearlyfromourtrip,LaureknewIwasplanningsomething.Shecalledmethenightbeforeshevanished.Shewantedtostopmefromdoinganything.WhenIsaidno,shetoldmeshehadleverage.”
“Thememorystick.”
“Yes.I’dhadsomeonehackintotheclinic’sdatabasetoretrievetheelectronicfiles,butIknewtheyweretraceablebacktome.That’swhyshedisappeared.ShehopedI’dassumeshe’drun,butIknewshewashere.
Watching,readytoexposeme.”
“Sothat’swhyLaurewaskeepingtheencryptedmemorystickonher,disguised.”Elinworksitthroughinhermind.“Butyouweren’tgoingtogiveherthechancetouseit,wereyou?That’swhyyouabductedher.”
“Yes.WithMargot’shelp.MargotwastheonewhomessagedyoufromLaure’sphonetolureyouuptothepenthouse.AndLaurehadcontactedMargottotrytoconvincehertostopme.MargotarrangedtomeetLauretotalk,early.”
“BeforeIwenttothepenthouse…”
“That’sright.Itwasatrap.Margotwasn’twaitingforLaure.Itwasme.”
“Andyoukilledher.”
“Yes.Itwaseasy.Straightforward.Shedidn’tknowathingaboutit.IthoughtIhadeverythinginhand,butImadeonemistake.”
“Leavingthememorystickonherbody.”
Cecilenods.“Iknewshehaditonher,butIdidn’trealizethatshe’dtransferredthefilestoanothermemorystick,disguiseditasalighter.Itworked.Iwaslookingfortheoldone,soIdidn’tfinditonher.”
“Thatwasthedelayincominguptothepenthouse.”
“Yes.Butitdoesn’tmatternow.Itworkedout,likeit’sallworkingouthere.”Cecilestraightens,haulsLucastostanding.“Elin,please.Idon’twanttohurtyou.We’realike,youandI.Loners.Fighters.Demandinganswers,justice.”HerhandisshakingaroundLucas’swaist.
“Puttingupwithselfishbrothers.LetmefinishwhatI’vestarted.”
Hereyeshavenarrowedtoslits,herfairhairnowwetfromthesnow,plasteredagainstherskull.
Lucascoughs,hislegsbucklingunderhim.
Elindoesn’tmove;shecanseethefinepointoftheknifepressedagainstLucas’sneck.Sheinchesforward.
Shehastodothiscarefully.
“Ican’tleave,”Elinsayssteadily,stillmoving.“Thisisnottherightway.Youmightthinkitis,butit’snot.”
“Leave.”Thevoiceisloudernow.Moreinsistent.
Tearsarespillingdownhercheeks.
“Cecile,Ican’t.Wecantalk,getthingsstraightbeforeyoudecidewhattodo.Iunderstand—”
“Understand?”Cecileshakesherhead.Elinsensesthatsomethinghasshiftedinhertone.She’slosingcontrol.“NooneknowswhatI’vebeenthrough.Noone.
Howcanyouunderstand,Elin?”
“Iknow,butIcanatleasttryto,can’tI?Ifwetalkitthroughagain—”
“Talk?Thatwon’tdoanything.Ineedaction.This”—
shepressestheknifeharderagainstLucas’sthroat,makingtheskinaroundtheedgeofthebladewhitenandpucker—“thisiswhatIneedtodo.This.Forme.Forallthosewomen.”
“Cecile—”
“No.Don’teventrytostopme…”Cecile’svoicehastippedintoascream,hereyeslockedonLucas.“Alleveryonedoesistrytostopme.Fromtellingthetruth,gettingpayback…”
Lucas’sfaceisparalyzed,afrozenmaskoffear.Elincantellthesedative’swearingoff—he’sfinallyabletounderstandwhat’shappening,howmuchdangerhe’sin.
It’snowornever.
Elinmakeshermove,lungestowardCecile,armsoutstretched.90
ThemovementisenoughtosetCecileoff-balance.
Grimacing,shefallssideways,herleftarmflailingasshetriestorightherself.
Elinfeelsaflickerofhope:ifshecanisolateher,pinherdown…
Butitdoesn’twork—theangleisoff.
Ithappensinslowmotion—Cecile’storsotwistingasshefallstowardthepool,hergrasptightenoughtopullLucaswithher.Hecrashesontopofher,brieflysubmergingher,waterarcingintotheair.
Cecileisn’tunderforlong.Onlysecondslater,shesurfaces,waterstreamingdownherface.
Already,she’sontopofLucas,armsflailingviolentlyaboveherheadbeforeherhandsclamptightaroundhisneck.
RealityhitsElin:Cecile’sastrongswimmer.Strongenoughtotakethembothdown.PanicflaresinLucas’seyes.InElin’s,too:thisistheworst-casescenario.
Ican’tgointhewater.
Hermindisblankwithterror—knifesharp.Blinding.
Thefamiliarfearconsumesher.Thesceneinfrontofhertips,veers;thattunnelingofhersenses.Piecebypiece,everythingstrippedaway.
Thesurfaceofthepooldanceswithmovement:thrashingwater,Lucas’sarmsjerking,Cecile’shandsscrabblingwildly,pushinghisheadbackwardintothewater.
Butstill,Elin’sbodyishostile,itrefusestomove.Shefeelssnowonherface,andsweat,butshecan’tmove,can’treachup,wipeitaway.
Lucasfinallyreacts,asifthewaterhasshockedhimoutofanyremaininglethargy.
Rallying,hereachesup,forcesCecilebackward,away.
Hestartstoswimtowardtheside.
Itdoesn’twork:barelydrawingbreath,Cecileswimsbesidehim.Shestrikesoutwithherelbow,catcheshiminthethroat,inhiswindpipe.
Once,twice—sharp,swiftjabs.
Lucascriesout,hiseyesflashinginfearbeforehisheadslipsbeneaththesurfaceofthewater.
Thesightripsamemoryfree—anechoofthatsummerday.OfSam.Ofthecaseayearago.Amemoryofherowninaction.Herfear,paralysis.
Ican’tletithappenagain.
Elinreachesuptoherneck,claspsherhandsaroundhernecklace.
Keepingherhandclampedaroundthehook,sheyanksonithard,feelsthechaingiveandthenbreakcompletely.Onehalffalls,hittingthesoftpowdersnow;theotherremainsinherhand.
Elintakesadeepbreath,handclenchedtightaroundthenecklace,anddivesintothewater.Shebreaksthesurfacecleanly,notlettingherselfthink,forcesherselfupandaround.SheswimsupbehindCecile.
Ceciledoesn’teventurn.AllherfocusisondestroyingLucas.
ElinisnowfacingCecile.Stillgraspingthehookinherhand,shejerksitup,betweenherfingers,thrustsittowardCecile’sface.
Handvibratingwithtension,shemovesitinarapid,circularmotionuntilshecanfeelresistance.Thoughblunted,shefeelsthehookgougeCecile’scheek,findingpurchaseinthesoftskin.
Elinretractsherhand,jerksitsharplyback.
There’sacryofpain.It’senough:Cecile’sgriponLucasloosens.
Theknifefallsfromherhand.
ElinputsherrightarmaroundLucas’schest,triestopullhimaway,hopinghecanatleastcatchhisbreath.
Shenoticestheknifeslippingbelowthechoppysurfaceofthewater,afragmentedglimmerofmetal.
Withouthesitation,shelurchesforward,grabsatitwithherlefthand.
Ceciledoesthesame,bloodstreamingfromhercheek.
Theirfingersclash,butElingetstherefirst.Tightlyclaspingthehandle,sherotatesitawayfromCecilethroughthewater.
Amomentofdistraction,butCeciletakesadvantageofit:shegoesforLucasagain.He’sresisting,pullingawayfromthemboth,tryingtoholdontotheedgeofthepool,haulhimselfout,buttheeffortistoomuch.Hishandsarewet,slippingoffthesnow-coveredtiles.
Cecile’sonhiminseconds,pullinghimfrombehind,wrestlinghimbackintothewater.
“Cecile.Stop.Lethimgo.”
“No.”Hervoiceisshrill.“Hehastopayforhislies.”
“Hewill.Iknowwhatyouwant,whatyouwantedallalong.Youwantedyourstorytobeheard.Justice.
Recognition.”Elintakesabreath.“You’vegotthat,Cecile.Wenowknowwhathappenedtoyou,tothem.
Thosewomen’sstories,they’llbetoldnow.You’vespokentheirtruth.Andyours.KillingLucasdoesn’tgiveyouanythingyouwon’thavealready.”
“Heturnedhisbackonme.”Thewordsareshouted,butthey’velosttheirstrength,power.She’ssobbing,themovementpullingupthroughherbodysoharditmakeshershudder.
“Iknow,but,Cecile,you’vetoldhimhowyoufeel.Hehastolivewiththat.Notyou.Notanymore.”
Elinholdsherbreath,waiting.Watching.
TimeseemstodragasCecilemovesbackwardthroughthewater,releaseshergriponLucas.
Elincarefullywrapsanarmaroundhischest,andpullshimtowardtheladderatthesideofthepool.
Gettingoutfirst,sheslowlyhelpshimfromthewater.Asthefreezingairhitshisskin,heimmediatelystartsshiveringwithwhole-bodyconvulsions.
Elinstandsupontheside,coldairbitingintoherflesh,andlooksbackatCecile.
She’sonherbackinthemiddleofthepool.
Armsandlegsoutstretched,she’sfloating,hereyestracingthesnowflakesfallingfromthesky.91
Fiveweekslater
We’reearly.”Willglancesdownathiswatch.
“There’safewminutesbeforethefuniculargoes.”
Elinnods.Alreadyherfaceisburning,thethoughtofleavingweighingheavy.NeithershenorIsaacaregoodatthis:good-byes.
Asshehoversonthecurb,hereyesfixonIsaac’sback.
Atinywhitefeatherhasworkeditswaythroughtheseamofhisbluepufferjacket.Itcatchesinthebreeze,flickeringfromsidetosidebeforecomingloose,flyingaway.
Abustrundlesdowntheroadinfrontofthem,kickingupbitsofsalt,grit.Themetalgrilleatthebackisfull,packedtightwithskisandsnowboards.Waitingforittopass,shefollowsIsaacacrosstheroadtothestation.
Theconcretebuildingisn’tpretty.It’sspare,functional,thebluntededgesoftheflatroofbrutallysplicingthroughtherawbeautyofthesnowcappedmountainsbehind.
Beyond,theskyisabrilliantblue.NotthepaleblueofanEnglishwinter’sday,butadeep,explosivecolorthatmakesthewhiteofthemountainswhiter,thestreakyhazeofcloudsomethingdefiniteandsolid.
It’sbeenlikethisfordays,solongthatit’shardtorememberwhatthehighsandlowsofthestormwerelike,howitmadeherfeel—thesharp,grippingwavesofpaniccomingwitheachhourofwindandsnow.
“It’sbusy,”Isaacsaysastheywalkintothestation.
He’sright.Peoplearegatheringinmessyclusters:anelderlycouple,teenagegirlswithrucksackshanginglow
againsttheirbacks,alargegroupofschoolchildren.
Asmallkioskontheleftissellingcoffeeandpastries.
Thebitter,butteryscentmakesherstomachgrowl.
“Youwaithere.I’llgetthetickets.”Will’salreadywalkingtowardthecounter,draggingtheirbagsbehindhim.Thoughtheyneedthetickets,Elinknowshe’sdeliberatelygivingherandIsaacthetimeandspacetosaygood-bye.
Isaacscuffsthetoeofhisshoeintotheasphalt,hisfacepinched.“It’sweird,sayinggood-byelikethis.I’vejustgottenusedtoyoubeingaround.”Hestops,fingerstighteningaroundthewaterbottleinhishand.
Shecan’tlookawayfromhim:hiseyes,hishair,theanxiousexpressiononhisface.Itfeelswrong,leavinghimherealone.
“Thencomewithus,”shesaysabruptly.“We’llbookyouaticket.Juststayforafewweekswithme,seehowyoufeel.”
“Notyet.Iwanttotrytogetbacktonormallife.Seehowitgoes.”Hepresseshislipstogether,looksaway.“Ican’tstopthinking,youknow,abouthowIdoubtedher.
Justbeforeyoutoldmeshewasdead,IwasburningthephotographsIhadofherinmywallet.Ithoughtshe’dbetrayedme,whenthewholetimeshewasthere.Icouldhavefoundher,insteadof…”Hisvoicesplinters.
“Isaac,there’snopointinbeatingyourselfup.Thesituationwashorrible.Idoubtedyou,too,didn’tI?
WhenIfoundoutabouttheaccusationsofintimidation,IjumpedtoconclusionswhenIshouldhavejustaskedyouaboutit.”Evennow,thethoughtofwhatshedid—
callingtheuniversity—makesherfaceburn.
“ButyouandIhadn’tseeneachotherforyears.Ourrelationshipwasstrained.Icanseewhyyoumighthavedoubts,butLaureandIwereengaged.Ishouldn’thavequestionedher.Ishouldhaveknown.”
“Howcouldyou?Laurehidintheoutbuildingdeliberately.Sheknewitwasn’tused,thatshewouldn’t
befound.Therewerenocameras,noobviouswayyoucouldhavefoundher.”
“Iknow,butit’slikeabuginmymind,racingaroundandaround.Thefactthatshewasthere,soclose,allthattime.”
“That’swhyIthinkyoushouldcomebackwithus.
Distractyourself.”Shesmiles.“Mainlywithmycrapcooking.Youcantakeoverthekitchenifyoulike.”
Elintakesasteptowardhim,reachesoutahand,thenwithdrawsit,chidingherself.
I’mdoingtoomuch.Toofull-on.
Severalbeatspass.
Isaachoistshisrucksackhigheruponhisshoulder.“Iwillcomeandvisit,”hesaysfinally,hisgazefindinghers.
“It’snotjustwords.”
“Iknow.”
“Imeanit.”“Itwon’tgobacktowhatitwasbefore.It’sdifferentnow,isn’tit?Youandme.We’redifferent.”
“Okay.”She’lltakethat.Different.
“I’llsaygood-byetoWill,thenI’dbettergo.”Isaacglancesovertothekiosk.
“Will,mate,I’mgoing.”IsaacraiseshisvoiceasWillstartswalkingtowardhim,ticketsinhand.Theydothehalf-hugthing,thenfist-bump,beforeIsaacstepsaway.
HeturnstoElin,pullsherclose.Shecanfeeltearshotatthebackofhereyes.Whydoesthisfeelsowrong?
Leavinghim?
Astheyseparate,shecanheartheloudgrindingofmachinery—aclunkingmechanicalwhirr.Thefunicular’snearlyhere.
“BeforeIgo,there’ssomethingIwantedtogiveyou.”
Raisinghisvoiceabovethesound,hereachesintohisbag.“Ihadthiscopiedforyou.Willsaidyoudidn’thaveanyphotosofSam,thethreeofus,inyourapartment.”
Elinalmostcan’tlookatit,butshemakesherself.
It’saphotoofthethreeofthemonthebeach,sandstreakeduptheirlegs.Alopsidedsandcastlesitsbehindthem,dottedwithpaperflags.
Hereyeslockonhim.Sam.Herlittlebrother.
Finally,arealpicture.Onetoreplacetheflawed,messyflashbacksinsideherhead.92
Thefunicularstartstomove,andwithittheirsurroundings—skyandsnowgivewaytotreesandsnow-tippedchalets,4x4ssnakingupthenarrowmountainroads.
Picturepostcard.
Elinputsherfingerstothewindow.ShecanfeelWill’seyesonher.
“Areyougoingtogetthenecklacefixed?”hesays.
Onautopilot,shereachesup,feelsforit,butofcoursethere’snothingthere.Sheshrugs.“Idon’tknow.”Shelikestheemptyswoop-hollowofherneck.Itfeelslighter,somehow.Free.
Willclearshisthroat.“Areyousureyou’rereadytoleaveIsaac?”Heputshishandinhers.Hispalmiswarm.
Sheforcesherselftomeethisgaze.“Ithinkhe’sgoingtobeokay.KnowingthatCecile’sbeenarrested…hesaidithelps.”
“Doyouknowwhat’shappenedtoLucas?”
“Yes.Berndttoldmethismorning.He’sbeenarrestedforhisroleinwhathappened;gettingridofDaniel’sbodyanddisposingoftheevidence,coveringupthetruthaboutthesanatorium’spast.”Shepauses.“He’sadmittedtoknowingaboutthedocumentation,thegraves,andbribingofficialssononeofitwouldberevealed.”
Afewbeatsofsilence.“Andwhataboutyou?”heprompts.“Areyouokaywithusgoing?”
“Ithinkso.”Itfeelsstrange,though;thethoughtofleaving,becauseshewasn’tonlyleavingthisplace,shewasleavingotherthingsbehind—Isaac,Laure,andaversionofthetruthshe’dcarriedinsideherforsolong,it
haddefinedher.Becomeher.Nowshe’sgottolivewithsomethingnew.
“I’mmoreconcernedaboutyou.Thewalkingwounded.”
“Onthemend.”Willraisesahandtohisstomach.
Thegestureissohim,solow-key,sounderstated,she’sseizedbyasuddenurgetoholdhim.Touchhim.
Openupinawayshe’salwaysresistedbefore.
Shepullshimtowardher,holdshiminaclumsyroughembrace,breathinginthefamiliarscentofhisskin.“I’msorryforwhathappened.”Hervoicesoundsstrange.“Inevermeantforyoutohavetodealwithanyofthis.You…youmeaneverythingtome.”
“Iknow,”hewhispersintoherhair.“It’sovernow.Wecanmoveon.”
“Speakingofwhich.”Breakingaway,sheunzipsherbag,withdrawsamagazine.Thecover’sfolded,soshepushesitbackwithherfingers.
Willscansthecover.“LivingEtc?Wheredidyougetthat?”
“AtthesupermarketinCrans.Costmeabouttwentyquid,but…”Elinflicksthroughthepages,findstheoneshewants.“Thatone.”Shejabsatthepage.“Thatsofathere.Whatdoyouthink?”
“Whatfor?”
“Ournewplace.”
He’ssilentforamoment,thensmiles.“Ilikeit.”
Elin’sabouttoreplywhenshefeelsherphonebuzzinginherpocket.
Shepullsitout,andinspectsthescreen.
“Whatisit?”Willlooksoverhershoulder.
“Work.”Hereyestracethewordsonthescreen.“TheywerefinewithmetakingabitlongerbecauseofIsaac,buttheyneedtoknowbynextweek.”
Willnods,surveyingtheviewthroughthewindow.
Elinfollowshisgaze.They’renearlyatthebottomofthevalley.Chaletshavegivenwaytohouses,snow-coveredvineyards.Onlysomeofthevinesthemselvesarevisible,thindarksmearsrisingthroughthesnow.
Heturnsbacktolookather.“So,haveyoumadeadecision?”
“Ithinkso.”
Nexttothem,apassengerreachesup,opensoneofthewindows.Tiltingherheadup,Elincanfeelthecoolbreezemoveoverherface.It’searlyintheyearstill,notquiteMarch,butshethinksshecansenseit—thetasteofspringintheair.
Newlife.EPILOGUE
He’sonlyonecarriageback.
Iftheyweretoglanceover,theymightseehimthere.He’stheoneleaningagainstthewindow,theonlyonenottakingintheview.
There’sasmallgroupinfrontofhim—MiddleEastern.They’repassingabottleofwaterbetweenthem,speakinginrapidArabic.
Everyfewminutes,theypointatsomethingthroughthesmearedglass:achalet,achurch,thecrumbledremainsofawoodenoutbuilding.Theydon’tnoticehim.
Noone’sevenmethiseye.
ASwissfamilyisbehindhim—mother,father,twogirlsnoolderthanten.Thegirlsaredressedinbrightlycoloredskiclothes—rainbowstripesthatcrinkleastheymove.Theyoungergirl,red-haired,freckled,ischewingonanoverstuffedbaguette,hercheekrestingagainstheroldersister’schest.
Themothertakesaphotographofthemandthefathersighs,annoyed.He’sladenwithskipoles,arucksack,athickdowncoatslungoverhisarm.
Neitherlooksathimashecraneshisheadoverthegroupinfront.
HeglancesbackatElin.She’ssmiling,gesticulatingasshesayssomethingtoherboyfriend.She’sanimated,somethinghehasn’tseeninherforalongtime
It’sclearshe’soblivioustohim,justlikeshewasobliviousinthehotel,oblivioustowhathappenedbytheplungepool,andexactlywhosehanditwasatthesmallofherback.Pressing.Pushing.
Hedoesn’tmind:theanonymitysuitshim.There’snohurry,isthere?
He’sfoundit’sbesttowaituntilsomeone’srelaxed,hasletdowntheirguard.
That’sthesweetspot,isn’tit?
Thattinyspacebetweenhappinessandfear.
ARTICLE:LOCAL.CH(AUGUST2020)HUMANGRAVESFOUNDATCONVERTEDSWISSSANATORIUM
HumangraveshavebeendiscoveredbyspecialistSwisspoliceunitsatLeSommet,aluxurySwisshotelrecentlyconvertedfromatuberculosissanatorium.
ThegraveswerediscoveredbypoliceduringaninvestigationintothreemurderscarriedoutinJanuaryatthehotel.
Archivedrecordsshowatleast32womenfromGermanyweresenttotheSanatoriumduPlumachit,ostensiblytorecoverfromtuberculosis.
OtherregionsandEuropeancountriesarenowexaminingrecordsamidfearsthatthiscouldbethestartofafloodofinvestigations.
Swisspolicehavefound32humangravesnearthehotelLeSommetintheSwissresortofCrans-Montana,whereitisallegedthatwomenwereillegallyinternedandbothphysicallyandmentallyabusedinthelate1920sand1930s.
Anomaliesconsistentwithpotentialgraveswereuncoveredatthesite,formerlyknownastheSanatoriumduPlumachit,wherepatientswerehousedforthetreatmentoftuberculosis.
TheValaisPoliceJudiciairemadethediscoverywhileinvestigatingthesequenceofrecentmurdersatthehotel,reportsLeMatin.
Oneofthesuspectsrevealedthatthemotiveforthemurderslayinthehotel’spastasasanatorium,leadingpolicetoexaminethesiteinmoredetail.
Thegravesiteisonthenortheastsideofthehotel,whereitisbelievedthewomenwereburieddecadesago,beforethesanatoriumclosedasantibioticsbegantobeusedinthetreatmentoftuberculosis.
ForensicscientistsfromtheValaisPoliceandtheUniversityofLausannehavefound32gravesonthegroundsusingground-penetratingradarandsoilsamples.
Thesanatoriumfailedtorecordtheseburiallocations,andforgeddocumentationwasfoundstatingthatthepatientshadbeensentelsewheretobeburied.However,previouslyhiddendocumentationconfirmsthatmanywomendiedunderunknowncircumstances,mostlikelyfrominjuriessustainedduringabusecarriedoutundertheguiseofmedicaltreatment.
AllofthewomenarebelievedtohavebeentransferredfromtheGotterdorfClinicinGermany.Itisnotyetknownwhetherthesepatientshadtuberculosisorifthisdiagnosiswasinventedinordertohavethewomenadmitted.
Itwasn’tuncommonatthetimeforwomentobeplacedinmedicalcareandadmittedfortreatmentagainsttheirwillandwithoutmedicaljustification.ManywomenwereinternedinclinicsacrossEuropeatthebehestofamaleguardianorfamilymember,asawayoftakingcontrol—ofaninheritanceorofindependentthoughtandideas.
ProsecutorHugoTappareloftheValaisPolicesaid,“Wearestudyingthefindingsofthereport.We’llbereachingouttothevictims’familiesanddiscussingsuitablenextstepsasworkcontinues.”
Arelativeofoneofthewomenremarked,“WebelieveallofthesewomenwereunderthecareofDr.PierreYerly,aprominentpulmonarysurgeonwhowasknownforhisexperimentaltreatments.Oncetheinvestigationhasconcludedwe’replanningtoerectamemorialinremembranceofthevictims.”ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Iwouldliketoexpressmythankstoeveryonewhohashelpedbringthisbooktolifeandintoprint.Igenuinelydidn’tknowhowmanypeopleareinvolvedinhelpinganovelmovethroughthesestagesandIfeelhugelyprivilegedtohavebenefitedfromtheirexpertiseandinsight.
Amassivethank-youtoJeramieOrton,mywonderfuleditoratPamelaDormanBooks,forherenthusiasmforElinandherstory.Herforensicattentiontodetailandhardworkhashelpedthenovelshineandbecometheabsolutebestitcanbe.Icouldn’thavewishedforamoreprofessionalorintuitiveeditortobringmybooktoreadersinNorthAmerica.Awiderthank-youtoeveryoneatPamelaDormanBooksandtheVikingteam,andaspecialmentiontoJaneCavolinaforherrazor-sharpeyewiththecopyediting.
IalsowanttothankmybrillianteditorTashBarsbyatTransworldintheUKandtheteamthere.Icanneverthankyouenoughforwantingtobringthisbooktolifeandinvestingsomuchskillandtimeintodevelopingandhoningthestory—youhavechangedmyworldinthebestpossibleway.
Hugethankstomyamazingliteraryagent,CharlotteSeymour,whospottedsomethinginmywritingandhasbelievedinthisstoryfromtheverybeginning(andtooksuchakeeninterestinmyscrapbooks!).Youhavefoundmetheperfectpublishers.Yourunwaveringconfidenceinmyworkmeanstheworldtome.
Anotherthank-youisalsoextendedtothewiderteamatAndrewNurnbergAssociates,especiallythewonderfulrightsteamandtheco-agentswhohavesoldmybookinmorecountriesthanIcouldhaveimagined.Aspecialthank-youtothetirelessHalinaKo?cia,whosee-mailshavebroughtsuchwonderfulnews.Youhaveahabitof“makingmyweek”!Thankyoualsotomyforeignpublishersfortakingthestorytotheirhearts.
Abigthank-youtoallofthepeoplewhokindlylentmetheirthoughtswhenIwasresearchingthebook,especiallytheValaisPoliceinSion.Thankyouforbeingsopatientandgenerouswithyourtime.The“whatif”
conversationswehadunlockedsomuchofthenovel,andeventhoughElinwaslefttoherowndevices,weultimatelyacceptyourargumentthattheSwisspolicecangetanywhereandatanytime.AnyfactualinaccuraciesinSwisspoliceprocedureareeithermyerrorortofitthestory.
IwasalsoluckytohavesupportfromseveralmembersoftheBritishAssociationofSnowsportInstructors.Inparticular,JazLambofBASS
Morzine,whoansweredmanyquestionsandalsoprovidedanintroductiontothemountainrescueteaminPortesduSoleilandoneoftheirleaders,JeremyHelvic—merci
WithinCrans-Montana,StéphaneRomangpointedustowardsomegreatresourcesaroundthelegacyofsanatoriumsinthetown.Manyothermountainpeoplehelpedinspirecertainscenes.Kindredspirits.
Onamorepersonalnote,thankyoutoAxelSchmidandfamilyforintroducingustotheveryspecialplacethatisCrans-MontanaintheSwissAlps—itistheuniqueatmosphereanddramaticlandscapetherethatinspiredmetowritethisnovel,andI’mgratefulforiteverydayasourfamily’s“happyplace.”SeeyouatAmadeus.
Amassive,sparklythank-youtomyparentsandsisters—whereitallbegan.Thankyouforfosteringsuchaloveofreadingandforencouragingmetowrite.Mychildhoodwasallaboutwords—endlessbedtimestories,audiobooks,andtheweeklytripstothelibrary.Youhavelistenedandgivensomuchtimeandloveandinspiration(andfood!).Withoutyou,noneofthiswouldhavebeenpossibleandI’msohappyIcanshareallofthiswithyou.Thankyoualsotomywonderfulfriendsbothoff-andonlinefortheirunwaveringsupportformywritingandmybook—yourkindnessandadvice(andcoffeesupply)havebeeninvaluable.
Thankyoutomygrandmother,whousedtospeed-readatleastabookadayandlentmemanyofherfavoritenovels,andmygrandfather,who,despitehismaculardegeneration,wouldreadmyshortstoriesevenifittookhimanimpossiblylongtime.YoubothwouldhavelovedfollowingmyjourneyandIhope,somewhere,you’refollowingitfromafar.
Finally,thankyoutomydaughters,RosieandMolly,andmyhusband,James,foryourenthusiasmandpassionforthestoryfromtheveryfirststep.Thankyouforsharingaloveofthemountains,forthesixa.m.starts,andforhelpingwiththetrickyscenesandforcingmetogothatlittlebitfurther.Havingpeoplecheeringmeonandbelievinginmywritingthroughthickandthiniswhatkeepsmesittingdownandwritingdayafterday.I’msoproudofyouallandIhonestlydon’tknowwhatIwoulddowithoutyou…FTB.ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
SarahPearsegrewupinDevon,UK,andstudiedEnglishliteratureandcreativewritingattheUniversityofWarwickbeforecompletingapostgraduatediplomainbroadcastjournalism.ShelivedinSwitzerlandforseveralyearsbeforereturningtotheUK.TheSanatoriumisherfirstnovel.
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DocumentOutline
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Chapter47
Chapter48
Chapter49
Chapter50
Chapter51
Chapter52
Chapter53
Chapter54
Chapter55
Chapter56
Chapter57
Chapter58
Chapter59
Chapter60
Chapter61
Chapter62
Chapter63
Chapter64
Chapter65
Chapter66
Chapter67
Chapter68
Chapter69
Chapter70
Chapter71
Chapter72
Chapter73
Chapter74
Chapter75
Chapter76
Chapter77
Chapter78
Chapter79
Chapter80
Chapter81
Chapter82
Chapter83
Chapter84
Chapter85
Chapter86
Chapter87
Chapter88
Chapter89
Chapter90
Chapter91
Chapter92
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
TableofContents
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Chapter47
Chapter48
Chapter49
Chapter50
Chapter51
Chapter52
Chapter53
Chapter54
Chapter55
Chapter56
Chapter57
Chapter58
Chapter59
Chapter60
Chapter61
Chapter62
Chapter63
Chapter64
Chapter65
Chapter66
Chapter67
Chapter68
Chapter69
Chapter70
Chapter71
Chapter72
Chapter73
Chapter74
Chapter75
Chapter76
Chapter77
Chapter78
Chapter79
Chapter80
Chapter81
Chapter82
Chapter83
Chapter84
Chapter85
Chapter86
Chapter87
Chapter88
Chapter89
Chapter90
Chapter91
Chapter92
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor