Chapter 19

19

Elin breaks the silence: "I'll need a copy of the footage." Not just for the case file, she thinks, but to examine the moment of the fall more closely. Something about what she saw is niggling at her, but she can't quite pick it apart. Perhaps...

She doesn't get to finish her thought process. A loud click.

The door opens and a member of staff walks into the room, visibly stricken. "Farrah, sorry to disturb," he says falteringly, "but there's a woman, outside, at the yoga pavilion. She's screaming."

—

The dark-haired woman on the floor beside Leon has her arms wrapped around herself, knees brought up to her chin. Her hair, a messy bob, is falling over her face, hiding her features.

Elin feels a horrible sense of disquiet as she puts on her overshoes and ducks under the tape. This close, she can see that the woman's knees are grazed and bloody, specks of grit and sand dimpling the broken skin. She's hugging the evidence bag, fingers clutching so tightly she's puckering the plastic, the bright fabric beneath. She reminds Elin of a child, refusing to let go of her favorite blanket.

Leon, crouched beside her, is speaking quietly, probably trying to somehow persuade her to give it up, but the woman isn't responding. As she glances up, hair falling back from her face, her eyes are glazed with a vacancy that pulls at Elin.

The look Leon gives Elin is desperate. "Sorry, I couldn't stop her. She ran right past one of the LUMEN staff standing outside on the path, ducked under the tape."

"It's fine. I'll take it from here." Elin squats down next to the woman. "Hello," she says softly. "I'm Detective Sergeant Warner. Do you know what's in this bag or who it belongs to?"

The woman drags her gaze up. "It's a wrap. My sister's." Her voice is so quiet Elin has to strain to hear her. "My mother brought it back for her, from Italy." Her voice splinters. "I've just looked down there. It's my sister."

Elin nods, feels the prickle of sweat on her hairline. "Look, let's get you up so we can talk about it, but before we do that, will you give me the bag? It's important that what's inside stays safe, so we can try to understand what happened."

The woman nods wordlessly, passing it to her. After depositing it with Leon, Elin helps the woman to her feet, starts leading her across the pavilion. They're about to slip under the tape and onto the path below when a voice rings out.

"Hana? What's going on?"

Elin glances up. A statuesque, fair-haired woman is striding toward them, phone in hand. She's in exercise gear—a pair of electric-blue running shorts, a black tank top. The navy BUFF pulling her hair away from her face is blotchy with sweat.

"Han?" the woman repeats. "What's wrong?" She steps up, as if to enter the pavilion, then stops, noticing the tape.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident," Elin replies. "Someone's fallen from the pavilion. Hana thinks it's her sister."

"It is her, I know it is." Hana glances back toward the balustrade. "Jo, it's Bea."

"Bea?" Jo's sneaker is tapping the floor in a nervous rhythm. "That's impossible."

Hana's voice wobbles as it raises a notch. "It's Bea."

Jo's hand skims Hana's arm. "But Bea's in America. You know that." Turning to Elin, she lowers her voice. "I'm sorry, my sister's had a rough time recently. She's probably in shock, confused after seeing whoever—"

"I know it's her." Hana's voice is tremulous as she points at the evidence bag beside Leon. "That's her wrap, the same as yours—the one Mum bought you both. I saw her on the rocks. It's Bea. She's dead." The wavering voice gives way to a soft crying.

Elin waits for Jo's reaction, but it's as though Hana's last few words haven't hit home. "Look, let's ask Caleb." She addresses Elin. "That's Bea's boyfriend. He's probably spoken to Bea this morning. Hey, Caleb?" she shouts.

Elin analyzes the group walking around the outside of the pavilion. A mixed bunch; a small, slight brunette bookended by two men. The taller one is dark with a thick beard, the other shorter, with a cap. All look uneasy as they absorb the tape, Leon, and his equipment.

"What's going on?" The woman stops beside them, petite with a wiry, lightly muscled body. A climber , Elin guesses, clocking the calloused hands and baggy Patagonia shorts.

"Someone's fallen. A horrible accident." Jo pauses, trying to deliver the words with a slow seriousness that somehow imparts the opposite—a condescension that says, Humor us while I explain something ridiculous . "Hana thinks it's Bea." She turns to Elin, gesturing at Caleb. "This is Caleb, Bea's boyfriend. You've heard from Bea today, haven't you?"

Caleb opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. "Well, actually, no, I haven't," he says slowly. "But she messaged me last night, when we got back from the beach." Tugging his phone from his pocket, he taps the screen. "Said she'd finished dinner, was going back to the hotel." His voice softens. "So she's fine, Han. Whoever fell, it's not Bea." After a beat, he says, "Look, I'll call her. That'll clear it up." Tapping at the screen, he puts it to his ear, hears a faint dial tone. The tension is palpable as the ringing continues, but a few seconds later, there's a loud buzz. "It's gone to voice mail."

"Caleb, the time difference, mate," the taller man says awkwardly. "She won't be up."

"Well, if she isn't, Della, her assistant, will be. She's in the UK." Caleb steps away, agitated, tapping the phone again. As he paces backward and forward, Elin hears him quietly talking. His speech is very slow, deliberate. She's not sure if he's trying to delay the moment or it's just his natural pattern of speech.

When he walks back a few moments later, phone still in hand, Elin notices his eyes sliding toward the balustrade. "She—" He stops, collecting himself. "Bea never went to the U.S. She canceled her trip yesterday."

His words act like something seismic.

The group's expression lurches from disbelief to horror.

Jo shakes her head. "I'm going to check for myself." She makes a dive for the pavilion, ducking under the tape.

"No," Elin says, but she's too quick. Three, four strides, and Jo's at the glass balustrade.

When she walks back to them a few moments later, her face is drained of blood. "You were right, Han. It's..." She stops, tears welling in her eyes. "It's Bea."