Elin’s about to take a photograph when the light from her flashlight picks out something else, on the floor, directly below one of the images.
A stone.
As she moves closer, another one pulls clear of the gloom.
Hand shaking, she moves from image to image.
One stone below each photograph.
Elin steps forward, then back, unsure if she’s imagined the precision in how the stones are placed, but as she looks again, it’s clear: the positioning is deliberate.
“That’s weird.” Steed’s voice is shaky.
“I know.” She crouches down, fixing the flashlight beam on the stone beneath the first photograph. “I—” But she stops, words dying in her mouth.
The stone has some kind of form, has clearly been shaped to create fluid dips and curves.
She keeps the beam fixed on it, not wanting to voice it aloud until she’s certain.
Is she imagining it? Seeing something that isn’t there?
Steadying the beam, she moves it carefully over the surface of the stone.
No, not her imagination.
The form is a gesture more than something definite, but there’s no getting away from it: it’s been shaped to resemble Reaper’s Rock. Loosely hewn to give the outline, the nod to the scythe.
Elin finds herself recoiling, terror clutching at her gut, a primal reaction.
These stones are a link to the rock. To everything it represents. The Reaper.
Death made manifest, here in this cave.
She attempts a photograph, but her hand is sweaty and her phone crashes to the ground.
It skitters across the cave floor. As she searches for it, the beam of her flashlight dimly illuminates the surrounding space. More wall, stretching back into the gloom of the cave.
“Look.” She bends down to pick the phone up. “It goes even farther back . . .”
Gingerly, they step forward, moving their lights slowly around them. A few yards on, her eyes pick out something else on the wall.
More photographs.
There’s not as much dust as on the first five, the profiles clear without needing to wipe any away.
Bea. Seth.
53
Back outside, Hana finds Caleb on one of the benches near the pool. He’s unevenly burned, only the sides of his legs red, like they’ve been slapped.
She presses a glass of water into his hand. “Thought you might need a drink.” She glances at the phone on his lap. “What are you up to?”
“Morbid stuff. Looking at photos of Bea.” His voice cracks.
Hana nods. She’d done the same last night. As if looking at images of her sister would somehow bring her back, make her real again.
“How are you bearing up?”
Caleb shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, but his fingers are trembling around the glass as he brings it to his mouth. “It’s like torture, isn’t it? Someone’s idea of a sick joke. All this loveliness while . . .” He gestures around him and Hana takes it in: the turquoise water glimmering in the sunshine, the pine branches above, shifting slightly in the breeze. It’s true. It’s as if this natural beauty is mocking them.
“Apparently not for much longer. There’s a storm on the way.” She gestures up. “Clouds are coming in.” Dark bubbles of cumulus clouds are dotting the sky. Hana’s glad. It’s what the summer, this island, and all of them need: a release.
He follows her gaze before looking back to the villa. “Where are Jo and Maya?”
“In their rooms. Don’t think anyone feels like socializing.” Hana takes a seat at the table by the pool, tips the parasol back so she’s fully in the shade.
Moving to sit beside her, Caleb puts his phone down. He hooks his feet around the legs of the table, but seems unsure of what to do with his arms, awkwardly folding and unfolding them. “And you? How are you feeling?”
“Probably the same as you. It takes me back to that moment with Liam, when the world seemed to . . . stop. The disorientation of it all. You start thinking of everything before that moment as a different place somehow. The world after . . . it’s as if it’s shifted on its axis.”
Caleb is silent for a minute before meeting her gaze. “Bea wanted to be there for you, you know, after Liam. She knew she’d let you down.” His voice is thick. “I think she planned to speak to you about it at some point, but never got the chance.”
Hana blinks. “I was surprised. She just seemed to drop off the radar.” She shrugs. “But it wasn’t just her. Most people did. I’ve never felt more alone.” She suddenly finds it hard to swallow, as if her throat has constricted. “It made me question everything, everybody. If they couldn’t be there for me after something like that, then when would they ever be?”