The Sanatorium(56)

He’s hiding something.

“As well as I know any member of staff,” he replies finally.

Elin decides to cut straight to the chase. “The reason I’m asking is because we’ve found some pictures of you among Laure’s things.”

“Pictures?” Lucas repeats, his voice hesitant. His hand finds the pen on his desk, and he starts twisting it between his fingers.

“Yes. Photographs. I don’t think you’d have been aware they were being taken. Would you have any idea why she’d have photographs like that?”

Lucas is silent for a minute, then looks up at her, his expression resigned. “Laure and I . . . we were involved.”

“A relationship?” Elin’s aware of the sudden pull of her breath, a shock she shouldn’t rightly be feeling. It was the only rational explanation for the photographs, but she’d been hoping it wasn’t the case.

“I wouldn’t describe it as that. It wasn’t serious.”

Cecile gives a small, brittle laugh. “I didn’t think you’d be so predictable.”

Elin looks at her, curious at her tone. “When was this?” she says, looking back to Lucas.

He’s still turning the pen between his fingers. “It was just after we opened. It was stupid. I know better than to mess around with staff, but it happened. There was an event, we hooked up. . . . Look, I carried it on when I shouldn’t have. We slept together a few times, then I ended it. She was pissed off, but”—he drops the pen with a clatter against the desk—“that was it as far as I was concerned. I’m pretty sure for her too.”

Just after they opened. Elin turns his words over in her head. That was when Laure was with Isaac, so it had to be an affair. Her mind shifts to Isaac—what she’ll tell him, how he’ll react.

“You said Laure was annoyed when it ended?”

“Yes. She came to the office a few weeks later, confronted me. Said I’d used her, given her the wrong idea.” His expression is contrite. “It was a mess, but I didn’t want her to feel awkward, have to give up her job over it, so I apologized, told her I was sorry if I’d led her on.”

“And that was it? The last contact you had?”

“Apart from work, yes.” Lucas’s face tightens. “Look, I don’t think that this, what happened between us . . . it can’t be connected to her going missing. It was a while ago. She’s obviously moved on, with your brother.”

Sensing his discomfort, she changes the subject. “The other thing I want to ask you about is Laure and Adele. Both Axel and Felisa mentioned that they were friends, but recently had fallen out. Were you aware of any issues there?”

“No.”

She turns to Cecile. “And you?”

“Nothing.”

“And there haven’t been any other issues with the hotel? No recent conflict with the staff or any other complaints?”

Neither replies. The silence stretches out, thinning until it becomes awkward.

Elin catches Lucas’s almost imperceptible glance in Cecile’s direction.

What aren’t they telling me?





44





There is something,” Lucas starts. Reaching down, he opens the drawer below his desk. He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it across the desk toward her. “I started getting these a few months ago.”

Il faut bonne mémoire après qu’on a menti.

“A liar should have a good memory,” Lucas translates aloud, his voice shaking slightly. “I dismissed it at first, but now, after what’s happened . . .”

“Do you know what it refers to?” Elin examines the note, her mouth dry. The words are typed in a large font, covering most of the page.

This is a threat, isn’t it? There’s no other way of reading it.

“I presumed it had to do with the hotel. We had a huge number of complaints before the build started. Locals initially, then environmental groups. It started small, then it exploded online. We started getting bigger groups coming. Not only Swiss, but French too.”

“Protesters for hire?”

Lucas nods. “Something like that. It started to get personal.” He looks down at his hands, flushing. “Vindictive. It seemed to be more than the hotel. An excuse to hate, cause trouble.”

“And the others?” Elin prompts, still studying the paper. The type isn’t particularly clear, crisp, which implies an inkjet rather than a laser printer. That means it was almost certainly done on a regular home printer, so the chances of working out who sent it are minimal. It’ll have to wait for the police.

“I only have this one, I’m sorry.” He reaches into the drawer again, pushes another piece of paper toward her. “There was another one, the first, but I threw it away. Thought it was a one-off. Something about revenge . . . more of the same.”

Elin examines the paper.

Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.

This time it’s Cecile who translates. “Chase away the natural and it returns at a gallop.”

“What does that mean?”

Lucas rubs his hand over the back of his hair. “I suppose the expression in English would be . . . a leopard can’t change its spots.”

Elin nods. “How did you receive them?”