The Sanatorium(51)
“Monsieur Caron told my officer what happened, but I’d like to hear it again, from your perspective.”
He listens quietly as Elin haltingly talks him through the facts, her observations. She can hear pen on paper in the background, his slow, rhythmic breaths, and she can’t help but be acutely aware of her rustiness in relaying the information—her imprecise language, the lack of conviction in her tone.
She finishes, but he doesn’t speak right away. She can still hear the rough scratch of pen on paper, murmured voices in the background.
When he finally does reply, his tone is measured. “Okay, so this situation, it’s unusual. Normally, we’d need to be present, to come to the scene, see proof of the incident before we formally open an investigation with the prosecutor.”
“I understand.” Phone pressed to her ear, Elin starts moving, walks the length of the changing room. “And there’s no way you can get anyone up here?”
“No.” Berndt’s tone is matter-of-fact. “I’ve spoken with the gendarmerie, the local police in CransMontana, but they’re not able to get anyone to you either.”
“So where does that leave us?” Elin paces back the other way. She can feel herself growing hot, not from the movement, but from the steady pulse of fear in her stomach as the reality of his words hit home.
We really are on our own. Totally isolated.
“That’s what we’ve been discussing. This situation . . . it is delicate, something we’ve not had to consider before. We’ve set up a task force to decide next steps. Myself as investigating officer, the gendarmerie representing CransMontana, a prosecutor, and the Groupe d’Intervention.”
“Have you come to any conclusions?” Elin listens to the howl of the wind outside, a deafening clap of thunder.
“Yes. The Swiss Constitution is clear that you have no authority here as a UK officer; however, after discussion, the prosecutor has advised that he’s happy if you carry out specific instructions.” Berndt’s voice softens slightly. “I think we would be stupid in this circumstance not to use your expertise.” He hesitates. “There is one thing we need to check first, though. Is Mr. Caron happy for you to be involved?”
“He is. He’s the one who asked me to help out. You can contact him, ask him to confirm—”
“Okay,” Berndt replies. “Could you please tell me how many people are left in the hotel?”
“Forty-five altogether. Mr. Caron has already shared a log.”
“The breakdown into staff and guests?”
“There are eight guests and thirty-seven staff. The majority had already been evacuated by the time the avalanche struck. The last bus, which never left, was meant to take everyone remaining in the hotel.”
“That’s better than I thought. The number is manageable. So, as I’m sure you’re aware, the first priority is safety. Please use standard procedure to try to contain the situation. I need you to keep everyone together, as much as possible. If that isn’t viable, you’ll need to make sure you know where they are.”
“Fine.” So far, as she expected.
“Then we’ll need any photographs you have taken of the scene and of evidence. You can send these to me directly.” He clears his throat. “The next priority is to get a full list of names, dates of birth, and addresses of everyone present and ascertain their whereabouts this morning.”
“That’s fine. Would you like me to speak to the person who found her, or any of the other witnesses?” Elin takes a seat on the bench behind her, feeling suddenly drained, the past few hours starting to take their toll.
Berndt pauses. “Yes. Obviously these won’t be classified as formal interviews, admissible in the investigation, but they’ll still be helpful.”
“That makes sense,” Elin replies, but she knows that in terms of content, they’ll have to be. They can’t afford to be anything but thorough, not at this stage. She hesitates, another thought striking her: Laure. She has to make him aware she’s missing.
“There’s one more thing,” she starts. “Someone’s missing from the hotel. She’s actually a member of staff, but was staying here for her engagement party. My brother, Isaac, reported it to the police yesterday.”
“I’ve been briefed.” Benrdt’s voice is clipped. “Her name is Laure Strehl, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Can you run me through the circumstances again?”
Elin lists what she knows, realizing that it’s very little. No one saw her go, and she only has Isaac’s word on her last movements.
“Is it possible she left of her own accord?” Berndt asks as she finishes.
“Yes, but I think it’s unlikely given the conditions, and the fact that she didn’t take her purse. She hasn’t been home. I’ve checked.”
“We can check CCTV at the station in Crans, Sierre”—Berndt murmurs something to someone in the background—“see if she got there somehow.” He pauses. “And there’s definitely no signs of any violence, an abduction?”
“No, but after finding Adele, I’m concerned.”
“That’s understandable.” He takes a breath. “And is there anything you’ve learned so far that might help us ascertain what’s happened to her?”