The Sanatorium(65)

Elin stares at the screen, foot tapping the floor.

This “Claire” is clearly a journalist, but why would Laure want copies of this article? The fact that the journalist mentions it’s a draft, and is asking Laure to ensure that the information isn’t traceable back to her, implies that the article was never published. So why would it be pasted into a Word document and encrypted?

Shifting in her seat, she reads on. Another e-mail.

Laure,

Further files & research. Sources didn’t want to be identified, but we believed them to be reliable.

Claire

The first attachment contains a shorter article, referring to a protest held at the site, the second a copy of a planning document, a file from the local council.

Her French isn’t perfect, but it looks like a list of the objections to the planning notice.

Elin racks her brain for an explanation.

What was Laure planning on doing with this information?

Her mind flickers to the letters Lucas received. Is this what they’re referring to? Were the letters some kind of blackmail?

The article is troubling—the accusations of bribery, corruption. It’s the first she’s heard of it and that bothers her. Something like that . . . surely it would have appeared when she’d searched for information about Lucas online?

But not in English, she thinks. Any articles—they were more likely to be in French. Using Google Translate, she searches using the specific French terms: Le Sommet. La corruption.

Nothing comes up. Not a single article. She was right—either the article was never online, so there’s no record of it, or it was never published. Whatever the story was, it’s been squashed.

But it’s one more thing linking Laure to the hotel, to Lucas Caron.

Did Laure have some kind of obsession? Did it connect to Adele’s death?

Either way, however hard it is to acknowledge, Laure’s become a person of interest. Elin’s going to have to tell Berndt that she thinks Laure’s involved.





51





Laure Strehl?” Berndt repeats. “The woman who is missing?”

“Yes.” Elin fiddles with the corner of her notebook, almost willing him to mishear so she doesn’t have to be the one to do this; to implicate Laure.

“Okay, let me put you on speakerphone—the rest of the task force is here. We’re working late.” She can hear buttons being pushed, a staticky fizz and hum as it switches to speakerphone. “Can you hear me okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” Deep breaths, she tells herself, leaning back in her chair. However hard, however wrong it seems, I have to do this. Find out the truth.

“Elin, I’d like you to explain what you need”—Berndt speaks slowly, deliberately—“whether you have any particular questions relating to Miss Strehl you’d like us to look at.”

She feels her cheeks grow hot at the official way he says Laure’s name.

Clearing her throat, she forces the words out. “The main point I’d like to clarify is whether there’s anything in her records that might be relevant to the case.”

“That’s fine, but first, we have an update relating to the psychologist.” There’s a shuffle of paper. “Laure wasn’t a patient with her. There’s no record of her ever having visited there.”

Elin processes his words. If that’s the case, why have the business card in her drawer? The article on the laptop? She mulls it over: it’s possible Laure decided to go to another therapist, or simply hadn’t got around to calling.

“So next, I think we should look in her records. Criminal, clinical.”

Muted voices sound out in the background.

“Elin, it’s the prosecutor, Hugo Tapparel. There is a certain threshold of evidence that is required for accessing the database to find out this information.” His voice has a cool authority that unsettles her. “Could you please detail what you have, so we can decide if it meets that threshold?”

Fumbling over her words, Elin lists what she’s found, acutely self-conscious, aware that she’s probably overstepped the mark in what she’s done and said to get the information about Laure. But what choice does she have?

There’s silence, and it’s Berndt who speaks first. “So let me be clear . . . the encrypted files imply Laure’s involvement in the attempted blackmail of Lucas Caron, and also contain e-mails to a journalist relating to an associated exposé.”

“Yes, I—”

She’s interrupted by the prosecutor: “Elin, can you confirm which officer instructed you to search the laptop? I don’t believe that this was an order from the task force . . .” He trails off, the implication clear: he thinks she’s gone too far.

She stiffens. Surely they were making this harder than it needed to be. Why put up barriers?

Berndt cuts across him, his tone more emollient. “I think to follow up on Hugo’s point, please send us the files. We’ll let you know what we find.”

“Thank you.” Elin hangs up, takes a long drink of water from the glass beside her. Every step of this feels like she’s pulling teeth. But she knows that none of that compares to what she has to do next: Tell Isaac about Laure. Her suspicions.

Elin rubs at her eyes; they feel gritty, sore, her lids heavy. Leaning back in her chair, she closes them. She can hear the wind outside, the blunt force of it pounding the building.