“Go on,” she says softly.
“I walked over to pick it up and that’s when . . .” He licks his lips. “That’s when I saw her, down on the rocks. I could tell she was . . .” A pause. “I was sick, you probably saw, but when I got myself together, I called 999, then Farrah.”
“And you didn’t notice anything during your shift? Nothing suspicious, out of the ordinary? No one walking around who shouldn’t be there?”
“During the shift, no, but . . .”
Farrah looks up: a sharp glance in his direction.
He changes position in his chair. “Look, it’s probably nothing to do with this, but last week, something odd happened, during the night. I woke up as you do, nature’s call when you get to my age. Getting back into bed, I saw someone walking about, near the rock. It struck me as strange, someone out that late.”
“You saw this from the staff accommodation?”
He nods.
“And exactly what time was this?”
“Four, maybe a bit later. Whoever it was, they had a flashlight, was shining it up at the rock, like they were looking for something.”
“Probably a guest.” Farrah’s tone is dismissive as she turns to Elin. “Some of them take photographs of the rock at night. No idea why, you can barely see anything.”
Michael gives a mirthless laugh. “This place, nothing would surprise me.”
Elin’s skin prickles. “What do you mean?”
“This island, it’s hardly had a glowing report card, has it? Don’t get me wrong, they’ve transformed it, but you can still feel it sometimes, early in the morning, when no one’s around.”
“Feel what?” Elin leans forward, uneasy.
“Something . . . bad.” He visibly swallows. “A guest, a few weeks ago, said the same.”
“Really?” It’s an effort to keep her voice steady.
“Yes. The artist that did the piece in reception told me he went to the old school here, the one that burned down. Said he’d come to see his piece, check out the retreat,” Michael continues. “Loved it, but he said . . .” He pauses, his features frozen for a moment in thought. “He said he could still feel it,” he says finally. “The evil here.”
Farrah shakes her head at his words, the melodramatic delivery, but as Elin thanks him, closing her notebook, she can’t dismiss what he’s said quite so easily. She, too, can feel it the longer she’s here—a presence and an energy that goes beyond all the stories.
Something intrinsic to the island itself.
“We’ll need a formal statement later, but that’s all for now. Thank you again.” As Elin picks up her bag she notices a man walking toward them. On reaching Farrah, he murmurs something inaudible in her ear.
Farrah turns. “This is Justin Matthews, the security director. He’s found the CCTV for the pavilion. I wasn’t sure if there was a camera close by, but there is apparently.”
A flicker of relief. “Can we look now?”
“Of course.”
But she’s only taken a few steps when she hears a noise: a skitter of gravel.
There’s a tug on her arm. Elin pivots to find Michael behind her, uncomfortably close.
His hold tightens to a squeeze. “What I said before,” he murmurs. “I mean it. What that man told me, he’s right. There’s something rotten here. You need to be careful.”
16
Hana, now washed and dressed, scrapes her hair back into a ponytail, a ponytail that never really works since her hair is too short. Stubby, Liam used to call it, ruffling the ends. An attempt, Han, but a misguided one.
Retying it, she slips on her sandals and makes her way out into the corridor. The scent of coffee, bitter and fragrant, is filtering in from the living space.
Jo. She’s the early bird. It will be her in there, making coffee. Act normally, she tells herself, pasting a smile on her face. Don’t react.
But she finds that it’s not Jo, but Maya, sitting on a wicker chair in the sunshine, a green scarf knotted around her curls.
She glances up, smiling. “You just missed coffee . . .”
“It’s fine, I’ll make one.” Hana looks down at the book lying open on her lap. “What are you up to?”
“Drawing.” Maya gestures at what Hana can now see is a sketchbook. “I couldn’t sleep. It’s always the same when I’ve been drinking. Wake up in the night, can’t get off again.”
“I know what you mean, I didn’t sleep well either. I think the whole beach thing was a bridge too far.” She pauses. “Did you hear Jo and Seth’s row?”