Chapter 79 Elin

79

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

‘A pira,' Isaac says, his features tight. ‘Exactly the same shape … '

Elin nods, the blood pounding in her head with a dull roar. Her thoughts swarm: their theory was right. These piras, whatever they are, link in some way to the camp.

‘If this van is the camp's, you think they could be the ones building them?' Isaac moves closer, tilting his head to examine it.

‘Definitely looking more likely,' she replies, still studying it. The pira is about a foot high, painted in a brown so dark that it's almost black in the dim light. No detail, none of the intricacy the branches lend the structure in real life, but the shape is clear. ‘I want to get inside, take a closer look.'

‘Break in?'

‘Yeah. The lock on the front door looked fairly standard.'

He casts his eyes towards the woodland surrounding them. ‘You sure? If the camp's rattled already and they get wind of this …'

‘Sure. They had no qualms about letting themselves into the Airstream.' No qualms at all, she thinks, picturing Ned's odd, blank expression as he'd turned to look at her.

‘Got it.' Tugging open the padlock, Elin leaves it hanging from the door. ‘Any questions on my lock-picking abilities should now be firmly quashed.'

‘Never doubted you.' Isaac smiles, but there's a waver in his voice as she opens the door and walks inside.

‘Want me to keep an eye out?' He lingers in the doorway,

‘Please.' Elin steps a little further in, looking around, but the interior is as dim as it looked from the outside, and it takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust.

Vision settling, the first thing she notices is detail. Detail that hadn't been visible through the window – pale-blue walls, hand-painted with bohemian, folksy borders, the same touches on the shelves above the kitchen area. The homely touch felt at odds with the total dearth of possessions.

Everything used to make the space habitable had gone. No appliances – fridge or stove. But while it felt empty, a little unloved, it wasn't dirty. Dust mainly, some spiderwebs hanging in the corners. The smell was musty, but not overwhelmingly so.

There's more to see, but Elin makes straight for the pira, desperate to observe it up close. Leaning in, she absorbs it all, then lets her gaze slowly travel across it in sections.

She stares at it, transfixed, immediately struck by the visible brushstrokes, each one made with definite strength and purpose. Whoever painted this had approached it with the same care and precision as the person who'd created the piras themselves.

‘What do you make of this?' Elin says, beckoning Isaac over. ‘Dominates the space, doesn't it?'

‘Yeah, it does. Seeing it like this, it looks more like some kind of symbol for something, doesn't it? '

Elin nods. ‘I searched online, couldn't find anything, local or otherwise.' She shakes her head, frustrated. She's not sure what she'd imagined coming in here, but the pira and what it means remain as elusive as before.

‘So what are you thinking now about this and the camp?'

‘Even more convinced that it's one of theirs, put to pasture.' She opens the small cupboard above the sink. Empty bar a few glasses on the shelf, gathering dust. ‘Everything's dusty but it doesn't smell too bad. You can tell people are coming in and out fairly regularly.'

‘Must be a reason why, though.' Isaac peers into the side locker. ‘Certainly not being used for storage. There's not much in here, just some T-shirts, old blankets.'

‘No sign of the envelope?'

He shakes his head. ‘If it was money the guy in the café was passing over, I'm guessing they wouldn't leave it here.' Putting a hand to his mouth, he loudly sneezes. ‘Looks like all the dust settled in here.'

Elin fights the urge to clamp her hand over her mouth as he tugs one of the blankets out, more dust motes flying up, hovering in the air. ‘Nice to see they cleaned things before they're put away.' Coughing, she gestures to a blackish stain spreading outwards from the centre.

Isaac grimaces, laying it on the side before lifting out another.

A cardigan.

More dust billows out as he unfolds it. Elin stares, frowning. The batik pattern and style … it's familiar.

Her thoughts move to Maggie. The style and shape is like something she'd wear. In fact, she thinks, her skin prickling, this whole van looks like Maggie's vibe – the colours, the folksy pattern painted on the wall.

‘There's more clothes.' Isaac's still rooting through the locker. ‘Looks like they've seen better days.'

Elin combs through them. A mixture of cardigans, trousers, vests. None of them fit Leah's or Bridie's look; they're all similar to the styles she's seen Maggie wearing.

Maggie's clothes. Maggie's stuff.

Looking between them, her thoughts start ticking over .

One thought, then another – both coming to settle on one moment: last night at camp, Maggie's shout for her not to go inside her van.

Elin reflects on how she'd mistaken Maggie's van for Leah's, and the reason why – the surprising décor inside. Décor that looked nothing like this, she thinks, scrutinising the space again. Maggie's van at the camp looked modern, sterile – a stark contrast to this.

‘Have you got the photo Steed sent you?' she says quickly. ‘Of when Kier's van was first sighted at camp?'

‘Yeah, give me a minute.' Pulling out his phone, Isaac scrolls and then passes it to her. ‘This is it.'

Her pulse picks up. ‘I need to check something,' she says, heading outside.

Standing in front of the van for a moment, she then walks backwards, away from it, until she can see the exterior in full.

Zooming in on the image of Maggie's van in the photo, her gaze flits between that and the van in front of her.

Same colour. Same make.

But that could be explained, surely? There must be thousands of these vans around.

She needs something definitive to link them.

Elin slowly walks around the front of the van. All at once, her gaze locks on a large gouge above the wheel arch, deep enough to have pulled off some of the paint.

Pinching the phone screen, she zooms in on Maggie's van in the photo again.

The same mark.

Her pulse is racing now.

‘What are you doing?' Isaac calls from the doorway of the van.

‘I reckon this used to be Maggie's van. It's identical to the one in the picture.' Elin shows him the photograph, pointing out the gouge above the wheel arch.

‘Looks the same. But why dump it out here?'

‘Upgrade? Maggie fancied a newer model? '

‘But it's in fairly good nick, so why not scrap it? Sell it on?' He doesn't look convinced. ‘Like you said, storage doesn't make sense, this far out from the camp.'

Elin looks around uneasily, thinking about Kier's van, still unaccounted for, and how it could play into this.

It can't.

While it's the same model as both of Maggie's vans, it's a completely different color and the interiors don't tally. The outside of the van doesn't match either – the bumper and alloys. None of it ties up.

‘It doesn't, and I reckon there's a chance not everyone in camp knows this is here.'

‘Maybe Ned and Maggie have got good reason for wanting somewhere quiet to stash stuff.'

‘Yeah. Let's keep looking inside the van,' she says, still mulling it over. ‘Make sure we've searched everywhere.'

‘Only thing left is a backpack, buried between these blankets,' Isaac says a few minutes later, elbow deep in the locker.

Curiosity piqued, Elin watches as he digs through the main section. ‘Looks pretty empty.' He plunges his hand into the front pocket, rummaging. ‘Hold on, there's something in here.' He withdraws his hand. ‘It's a passport …' Flipping it open, his face drains of colour.

‘Whose is it?'

‘Zeph's.'