The Sanatorium(42)

She’s silent. It is, so why is it so hard to admit it to someone else?

“The one thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me about this.” He forces a smile but the hurt in his eyes is obvious. “It’s pretty big, keeping it from me.”

Elin bites down on her lip. “Be honest, would you have wanted to get involved if you knew? If I’d said on our first date, Will, I think my older brother might have killed my little brother, and I might have seen it, but my brain has somehow repressed the memory. That’s pretty heavy stuff.”

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have judged.”

“I couldn’t take the risk. I liked you, Will. From the minute we met, I saw a future with you.” Her voice cracks. He has to understand, know she hasn’t deceived him deliberately. “You haven’t got anything like this going on. You’re normal, have a normal family.” She smiles, attempts to lighten the mood. “Your sister can be a bit of a cow, but apart from that . . .”

Will returns her smile. “But why are you so convinced that you’re going to get the truth if you confront him now?”

“Now Mum’s gone, it’s the right time. It can’t go on forever.”

“Are you going to tell him what you remember?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really have a plan. I thought if we were talking about Sam, Mum, he might let something slip.”

Will rubs his knuckle. “You know, if you’re right, if these flashbacks stem from an actual memory, then Laure going missing—”

Elin nods. Neither of them needs to say it out loud. “That’s why I can’t leave now.” She pictures Laure yesterday, the empathetic words about her mother. With it comes another pang of guilt. I owe Laure this.

Turning away from the laptop screen, she presses at her forehead.

“Is something wrong?” Will looks at her closely, his expression worried.

“Just tired. I think I’m getting a headache.”

He rummages in his bag, then tosses a small packet toward her. Ibuprofen. “Take these, and then we’re going to the spa. Dinner’s not for an hour.”

Elin acquiesces, compliant. Anything to loosen the knots inside her head.

She can feel them, the thoughts, the unanswered questions, like rocks, weighing heavy in her head.





32





Els, come on.”

“Just . . . give me a minute.” Elin shifts from foot to foot. The decking is freezing, the wooden slats coated in a fine layer of snow. The wind gusts, flattening the thin fabric of her swimsuit against her body. She shivers.

Snow is hammering from the sky, drifts building around the two outdoor pools, the assortment of chairs and loungers. Rolls of vapor barrel off the largest pool, closest to her, melding with the snow to create a warm, wet fog. Only small squares of the water itself are visible, islands of a shadowy, shimmering cerulean.

Will takes her hand, tugs her past the main pool. “You’ve done it before. It’s only a hot tub, it’s not deep.” His skin is puckered with goose bumps.

He slips behind an enclosure of slatted wooden panels. Elin follows, staring at the circle of blond wood.

Will climbs up then submerges his body beneath the water. He looks at her, his expression challenging. “Coming?” Without his glasses, his eyes are darker.

Elin stares. Even more steam is being thrown off the surface of the water, making the darkness shift and sway. Images come, unwanted: A shadowy face. Water, battering the sides of the caves. The sharp jag of panic in her chest.

Blinking, she blocks it out, clambers up the steps to the tub. As she slides her body into the water next to Will, she’s conscious of the sharp angle of her hips butting up against him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He snakes an arm around her waist, lightly squeezes. “Okay?”

She nods. The water is so hot it’s almost painful, but she can already feel the warmth tugging at the tension in her limbs, pulling it loose.

Will’s right. She should relax. Unwind. “This is what I needed,” she says, leaning into him.

“Told you.” He presses a button behind her. There’s a low rumbling, then the water starts to pulse, ripple. Within seconds, it’s churning, coiling, pummeling her back and thighs. “You’ve got to learn to relax. Everyone needs downtime.”

Elin studies his face. His dark eyes are warm as he looks at her, his tanned skin dotted with tiny water droplets. I’m lucky, she thinks, he cares, and isn’t scared to show me that he does. I shouldn’t take it for granted.

“Want to get closer?” Will does his usual comedy leer, drawing his hand up her thigh. Tipping his face down to hers, he kisses her. His mouth is warm, soft, but she breaks away, a sound catching her attention.

It’s hard to make out what it is above the wind, the water. A thud? Footsteps?

With a sudden sense of disquiet, she turns, looks around. Once again, the darkness seems to shift, mutate; a quiet, watchful darkness.

An uneasy feeling creeps over her. Just like in the changing room earlier, she has the horrible sensation that she’s being observed.

She briefly looks the other way. The wooden paneling stares back at her: blank, featureless, dusted in snow.

There’s no one there.

“Did you hear that?” Elin turns back to Will. “It sounded like someone was behind us.”