“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.
38
Sucking in a deep breath, Elin slips the snorkel tube out of her mouth and ducks under the water. It’s cooler than she’d anticipated, a stark contrast to the humid air. She swims forward a few feet until she’s directly above the bag. Pedaling her feet, she tips her body and positions herself near the base of the bag. They were right: it’s hooked around a sharp protrusion of rock.