Chapter 37

37

Ineed to make a few calls to get the right team in place, but in the meantime, can we get a boat out here? Make sure no one comes in the vicinity?" Elin says quickly. Even underwater, securing a scene is vital. If this isn't accidental and any evidence is disturbed, it could compromise the investigation.

"Of course." Tom nods, face still pale. "Anything we can do to help."

Steed glances back to the shore. "Is there anywhere off this beach that we can work from?"

Tom considers, then nods again. "There's a shack, just below the cliff. Not sure how clean it is, but it's private."

"Thank you." Elin passes Tom's phone back, reaching for her own, but as she does, it rings.

Farrah's number.

No greeting: "I've got news," Farrah starts. "The missing man turned out to be not so missing. He was snorkeling, apparently, on the other side of the resort. Had his phone with him but it was turned off. Switched it on about twenty minutes ago to find a ton of messages. Bit insulted, I think, that his friend had thought the worst. Said something along the lines of ‘I loved her, but not that much...'?"

"And the mess in his room?"

"Looking for his waterproof phone case."

"Good news." Elin hesitates, reluctant to burst Farrah's bubble. "But I'm afraid I've got to follow it with some bad. That bag that was spotted... We've found a body nearby."

—

I know it's not exactly up to par with the rest of the retreat, but will this do? I don't know when it was last opened." Tom turns, feet kicking up a cloud of dust.

Steed starts coughing, pressing a hand to his mouth. "Years would be my guess," he manages to choke out.

Elin glances around; the contrast with the water sports shack on the main beach is striking. A musty, saline damp pervades the air, the stale smell of an unused building on the beach, amplified by detritus—battered life buoys, jackets, an old radio on top of a stained icebox. Each scratched square of window is thick with grime, leaving only a small circle of glass in the center for watery strips of sunlight to filter through.

"It's secluded, which is the main thing." Tucked in below the cliff above the tideline, it provides the perfect spot to work, away from the prying eyes of the retreat. "What's it used for now?"

"Pretty sure once upon a time it was used for storing stuff for the old school, then the Outward Bound courses—" Tom stops, radio crackling. "Sorry, better take this."

"Go ahead."

As Tom leaves the room, her phone pings. A message from Will.

How's it going?

She taps out a reply. Complicated. Can't say too much, but be careful.

The three-dot jiggle of the reply , then: Ok. I'm at the main lodge. Will stay put until I hear from you.

The three dots appear again before disappearing, as if he's started writing something and then thought better of it.

"So what's your gut saying on this one?" Steed murmurs as she puts her phone away.

"Can't say until we get the body up, but from what Tom said, I don't like it. Plus the fact that he was alone..."

"And the bag?" Steed stands on tiptoe, peering up at a particularly crowded top shelf. "So close to where we found him, might explain why he was out there." He breaks off, craning his neck. "Jesus, it looks like someone was camping out here once upon a time. There's a Primus, rug, load of old papers..." Steed reaches a hand up, and a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He picks it up, scans it. "A document... talk about turning the island into a nature reserve."

Elin peers over his shoulder. "I heard about that. Pre-LUMEN, the environmentalists were campaigning for it to be left unspoiled." Her instinct tells her that it would have been the right call. It seems that the island sends a clear message to each generation that inhabits this place: We don't want you here.

Steed holds up something else. "A photo too. The old school, from the looks of it."

Elin recoils. The photograph shows a group of boys lined up outside the school, teachers standing behind them in long robes. There's something odd in the children's expressions: an absence of emotion that's somehow poignant. She thinks about the rumors she'd heard, Zimmerman's comments on the artist who'd been a pupil at the school. "Looking at those boys, probably the best thing that ever happened, it burning down."

"Those kinds of schools got away with a lot, back in the day." Steed's still filching around. "Bloody hell, there's even an old mug... pretty weird place to hole up." He smiles. "Even for a tree hugger."

Elin nods. She finds the idea unnerving; someone secretly tucked away in here, out of sight. She changes the subject. "Any update on timings for D Section?" FSG D Section is the Marine Support Unit, divers specialized in retrieving bodies underwater, key to ensuring they are carefully moved to avoid compromising evidence.

"Actually, yes, the Control Room called back a few minutes ago." Steed pauses. Elin can tell from the way he opens his mouth then closes it again that what he's going to say next isn't good. "Don't like piling bad news on bad, but they're not going to be able to get anyone out to us for a while. Sounds like they're committed on a job with Border Force farther up the coast."

Elin nods, her mind already churning through what this will mean for them. There's a fine balance in a situation like this between making sure the body isn't disturbed and ensuring that no evidence is lost by it being underwater too long. If D Section can't get there quickly, there's a risk that any evidence might be compromised. "I'll run it past Anna first, but I think we're going to need to bring up the body and the bag now."

Leaving the shack, Elin braces herself. With an inexperienced and, frankly, probably frightened team, this isn't going to be easy, but as her mind churns into a higher gear than she's needed in months, she feels a strange mixture of emotion: the obvious—fear and anxiety at the situation—but something unexpected too.

Exhilaration. A heady, soaring sensation fizzing away inside her.

She's back in control of an investigation. What happens next is up to her.