Hana startles. Everything’s been still for so long that any kind of movement like this feels alien somehow. Out of place.
But the weather only provides a brief distraction. Where could Jo have gone? Her room was empty, she wasn’t outside . . . had she overheard the conversation between Hana and Maya? Taken herself out somewhere to escape the fallout?
All she can think about are the lies Jo told. Lies Bea tried to uncover for Hana. Hana feels a pang of guilt about Bea: she shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. Even though Bea wasn’t there for her after Liam died, she’d been looking out for her in another way.
Lying back on the bed, she scrolls through her phone to find the last photo she has of Bea and runs her finger across her sister’s face. Memories of Bea consume her, memories she hadn’t let in until now: Bea’s towering book stacks around the house, how she’d clear her throat before saying anything confrontational. Bea’s hippie phase, the only time she rebelled, the tattoo she got on her ankle during a camping trip in Bude, the defiance somewhat diminished by the fact that while the tattooist did their thing, Bea was doing revision.
Tears prick Hana’s eyes. Twisting on the bed, she reaches for her tissues, but before she can pull one out there’s a loud rap on the front door. She waits to see if someone else will get it, but a few moments later, the knock sounds out again. Louder this time.
Clambering off the bed, Hana heads into the corridor. When she pulls the door open, she finds a member of staff outside, iPad in hand. A crackling radio hangs from his belt loop.
The man greets her with a half smile, but his narrow face is set in a serious expression that tallies with the somber scene surrounding him. Without the glare of the sun, there’s an unfamiliar flatness to the surrounding foliage. It looks dulled.
“Ms. . . .” The man glances down at the iPad, obviously trying to remind himself of her name. “Ms. Leger.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask your group to pack up and leave your accommodation as soon as possible. There’s been an . . .” He swallows, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “An incident. We need everyone to assemble at the main lodge.”
Hana looks at him, unnerved. “What’s happened?”
“I’m afraid that I can’t share any more details, even if I had them.”
She starts to protest, but as the man nervously shifts from foot to foot, wiping his brow, she realizes that he’s as shaken as she is. He’s following instructions; no point grilling him. She nods. “We’ll get our things together and come up.”
“Thank you,” he replies, clearly relieved that she hasn’t pushed back.
As she closes the door, she hears footsteps. Caleb appears, Jo behind him, a glazed expression on her face. Just the sight of her puts Hana on edge.
“I only caught the end of that. Didn’t sound good.” Caleb fiddles with his cap. It’s turned backward, a tuft of hair poking through the fastening at the front.
She nods, explains what the member of staff had told her.
“From bad to worse,” he says tightly. “I just want to go. I haven’t even told my mum yet, about Bea. I can’t do this.” His voice splinters. “Stay one more day on this bloody island. It’s like some kind of torture.”
Jo’s eyes flicker from him back to Hana. “I’ll keep going with the packing.” She’s already turning. “I’ve left my yoga things by the pool.”
Hana lightly grasps her arm. “Hold on, I’ll come with you. We need to talk.”
Jo eyes her warily, brow furrowed. “What about?”
“Us, Jo,” Hana says heavily. “You and me.”
65
Slowly, she turns in a circle. Steed does the same. “No sign of any other disturbance,” he mutters.
Elin crouches down, scrutinizes the radio. The back cover is completely shattered, shards of plastic spilled in a wide circle around the radio itself.
“It would take significant force to do that,” she says uneasily. “These radios are built to last, withstand heavy contact. This kind of damage wouldn’t come from her simply dropping it. I don’t like this. Given what Johnson said about her testimony. If our killer is aware Farrah knew Creacher wasn’t responsible . . .”
Steed nods. “Timing seems pretty bang on.”
Elin shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have taken Johnson’s call, earlier, when she wanted to talk to me.”