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The Retreat(7)

Author:Sarah Pearse

“But . . . I think my dad did—” Her voice catches. “Isaac said he’s planning a visit. It made me think about something I never thought was significant at the time, but now . . .”

“What?” he says gently.

“The day Dad left, he’d planned a scramble up to these rocks where you could jump into the sea. I couldn’t do it, burst into tears at the top, ruined the whole thing. After, Dad said: You’re a coward, Elin. A coward. Turned out to be the last words he ever said to me. Later, my parents had an argument. Dad left in the night.”

“But what he said wasn’t about Sam—”

“No, it was. That’s the real reason Dad left, and he was right. I am a coward. I ran today.”

“You’re not. You’re making progress. Steady steps.”

Elin nods, but the old her didn’t need steady steps. She was sharp, ambitious. Going places. The old Elin wouldn’t have been reassigned to Torhun. The work is repetitive, grinding; coordinating door-to-door inquiries, CCTV, witness statements. No real meat on the bone.

“I know it’s not the same,” he says softly.

She shrugs. “Nothing is.” It would be hard to match the high stakes of the MCIT, the furious pace in the incident room, the intellectual rigor in teasing apart the subtleties of a case, identifying strategies, the plan of attack. Nothing else comes close, but what if it’s too much for her now?

Will scans his phone. “My last meeting’s at four. Fancy dinner out? Talk properly?”

“Sounds good. By the way, I heard you mention an award. Good news . . .”

A flush creeps up his cheeks. “Oh, a project’s been shortlisted for an award.”

“That’s great.” Elin’s surprised to find herself having to force a smile, a small, mean part of her envious. In her head, her career should be soaring like his, but it isn’t. Will’s the one surging onward, motor at his back, while she’s treading water.

He stretches out, the hem of his T-shirt pulling upward, trying to be nonchalant, and it all becomes devastatingly clear. He’s trying to minimize it. Worse than him being oblivious.

“Which project?”

“The retreat. LUMEN.” He smiles, his pride obvious. “Really unexpected.”

LUMEN. Will’s baby: a luxury retreat that he designed on an island a few miles off the coast. The retreat has given the island a new face, Will’s firm bulldozing the past away in a bold mix of blocky, modernist-inspired architecture and Mexican color. A passion project, one of the first things he mentioned when they met: “We’re reinventing, but we’ve worked with the landscape too, using stone from the old school, quarried on the island . . .”

“National award, it’ll put the firm on the map.”

Not only that, Elin thinks. It’s the creative recognition—a verification of his vision to turn around people’s perception of the island. “Congrats, and you don’t have to play it down for my benefit. My stuff, it shouldn’t put a dampener on you. I’ve got to learn to deal with it.”

“Easier said than done, I know.” He smiles. “Fancy a quick coffee? I’ve got time in between calls.”

“Yes, let me write down my times—only got the first half, but . . .” Elin reaches for her notebook on the coffee table. Her watch records her stats, but she still likes putting it down on paper. The one area of her life where she’s making tangible progress.

Elin looks up, feeling Will’s gaze on her. She finds pity in his eyes.

He looks to the floor—found out, embarrassed.

4

Hana watches the RIB slow as it approaches the dock, a ragged line of white foam kicked out in its wake. The words she’s just read are on repeat in her head.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

She was right: this trip wasn’t just a way of bringing the family back together. Jo’s organized it for a reason and Hana’s pretty sure it’s linked to the note that fell from her bag.

“Jo Leger?” The driver scrambles out of the boat, sending it rocking against the jetty.

As he ties it up, he greets them from behind polarized lenses, with a practiced, enthusiastic smile. He’s young, late twenties maybe, clad in a starchy white polo shirt, shorts.

“That’s me.” Jo steps forward, smiling. She’s relieved, Hana can tell, that the forced, awkward greetings are done—Jo’s overenthusiastic bear hugs with Caleb a sharp contrast to Hana’s muted half embrace.

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