The Sanatorium(90)

Will reaches for her arm. “Perhaps they’re right. Maybe it’s better to wait for the police.”

“The police? There’s been another avalanche, Will. They aren’t going to get to us anytime soon, not unless the wind drops and they can get a helicopter up.”

His words are slow, careful. “What did Berndt say?”

“I haven’t called him.” Elin doesn’t meet his eye. “He probably won’t approve of me trying to find Margot, not without backup, and I don’t know how much he knows about my job. He could pull me from the whole thing.” She hesitates. “In any case, it doesn’t work, waiting for them to arrive. The killer might have hurt Margot by then, and it’s a risk—the killer might see the police arrive. We’ll lose the element of surprise.”

“You’re right.” Will pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. “I just keep thinking about what happened in the penthouse. The close call with the avalanche earlier.” His voice wobbles. “If anything were to happen to you . . .”

“I’ll be fine. Careful.” Elin pulls him toward her. “Will, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was right. This situation’s gone beyond anything I imagined. I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Fine,” he says abruptly, making her look up in surprise. “Look for her, but whatever it is you’re planning, you’re not going alone. You haven’t stopped since this morning. You’re tired, haven’t eaten anything.”

She pulls away, taken aback. Is he doubting her? Like Cecile and Lucas?

“Will, I’m trained for situations like this. What happened before was different. I wasn’t expecting it, my judgment was skewed because of my relationship with Laure, but with this, I’m on the offensive. I know the precautions to take.”

“Elin, there isn’t any more to it, okay? I just don’t want you doing it on your own.”

She doesn’t speak for several seconds. When she does, her voice is hesitant. “You’re saying you want to come with me?”

“Yes. You’re not going without me. Not this time.”

Elin forces a smile, but a horrible sense of trepidation settles over her. She can tell they’re close: she can feel it building—a tension, a quickening in the air.





73





See anything?” Will says in a low voice, footsteps ringing out against the marble floor.

“Nothing so far.” Elin walks farther into the reception area of the spa, but there’s no sign anyone’s been there. Nothing’s disturbed, out of place. Even the magazines beneath the table are stacked in a perfect, uniform pile.

Leaning over, she scans the reception desk, but it’s almost empty—only the computer keyboard, the flat-screen monitor, a leggy plant in a white vase on the left.

The air is filled with the same mixture of aromas from the first time she was there—mint and eucalyptus, mingling with the bleached-out scent of cleaning products.

A memory flickers to life—Laure’s tour of the spa. Elin blinks back tears as she pictures her face, her smile; it gives her a renewed sense of purpose: This is for Laure as much as it is for Margot.

“Let’s try the changing rooms next.” Will walks past her, looking ill at ease as he glances around him.

“Okay.” This was the area the iPhone locator had pinpointed—toward the pool, the generator rooms. But as they push through the doors, the changing rooms, too, appear empty. The white tiles are polished and gleaming, the doors of the cubicles pulled closed.

It doesn’t stop them checking, though. Starting from the left, they systematically search each cubicle. It yields nothing: there’s nobody there, no trace of any disturbance.

“Pool next?” Elin tries to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, but she’s feeling doubtful that they’ll find anything.

Chances are the killer had simply ditched the phone somewhere near here. The location they’d found on the tracker might be meaningless.

Will walks ahead of her, tracking around the edge of the pool. “Nothing.” He audibly exhales.

He’s right: the pool is still, the water streaked with flickering light. The floor is dry; no damp imprints of feet, or splash marks.

Elin nods, despondent. There’s only one place in this area left to try: the maintenance room.

She heads back into the changing room, Will following behind. She knows from the CCTV that the access door is on the far wall, the door Laure must have used to enter the changing room to watch her.

They find it easily enough—a white metal door halfway along the back wall. Elin holds the fob up to the panel by the door and it opens with a click.

As she steps inside, she’s hit with an impossible tangle of metal arteries streaking across the ceiling, the floor—a blocky mass of machinery and piping. The space is bigger than she imagined. Labyrinthine. It probably stretches the full length of both the changing room and the pool area.

There’s a constant, dull humming; an eerie mechanical heartbeat, only enhanced by the chemical, vaguely industrial smell.

She looks at Will. “Let’s stay together. I’ll go—”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence.

Everything goes dark as they’re plunged into an impenetrable, liquid blackness.