Page 28

2019

Once Alex has seen Charlie off, he heads to reception. Nicolas is there, filling in paperwork for a departing guest.

‘Nicolas,’ Alex says. ‘The night Vicky went missing, did you see her in that bar when she was with the Americans? Or when she came back here?’

Nicolas frowns.

‘No, Alex,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t here that night, remember?’

Alex looks at Nicolas, quizzically.

‘I was up at the hotel?’ Nicolas says.

Alex nods.

‘That’s right, you said.’

‘What do you need?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Alex says, hurriedly. ‘I just wanted to know if you remembered seeing her. Do you know where Harry is?’

‘He’s about to bring a group to the waterfall for ice-climbing,’ Nicolas says. ‘He’ll be at the bus outside, getting them onboard. If you rush—’

Alex is already gone. He finds Harry out back, ticking off names on a sheet as tourists step onto the bus.

‘Fancy some ice-climbing?’ Harry asks him.

Alex shakes his head.

‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’

Harry nods and hands the sheet to another guide. He follows Alex a few feet away from the bus. Alex has his hands in his pockets to keep them warm; his right fist is clasped around his phone. He’s looked at the photo again and again and he knows what he saw and what it means.

‘You said you were very fond of my sister,’ Alex says.

Harry nods.

‘How fond?’

‘What?’

‘Friendly-fond, or, in-love-with?’

Harry shuffles uncomfortably.

‘Alex, I told you, I didn’t have anything to do with Vicky—’

‘Just fucking tell me,’ Alex shouts.

Harry looks at him, startled, then over at the tourists to see if they heard. They’re all on the bus, and the doors have been closed to keep the heat in. Nobody is paying the two men any heed.

Alex waits, glaring at Harry. He just wants people around here to start telling him the truth. Not their version of it. The actual truth.

‘I was. . . I suppose I was a little in love with Vicky,’ Harry says. ‘But nothing ever came of it. I swear it.’

‘Did you use Niamh, that night? To get at Vicky?’

‘Of course not. Niamh wanted to sleep with me.’

‘Did you make Vicky feel uncomfortable? Were you the reason she wanted to leave?’

‘I didn’t make her uncomfortable! I was in love with her. . . from afar. I know how that sounds. I would never have made advances towards her and I wouldn’t have put her in a difficult position. She was. . . she was too good for me. She was too good for everybody at the Lodge.’

The engine on the bus roars to life and the other guide pokes his head out the door to call Harry’s name.

Alex’s jaw clenches.

‘Sounds like you put her on a pedestal,’ he says. ‘And there she was, bringing guys back to her cabin. . .’

Harry’s face darkens.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Vicky made her point to me. Not explicitly but. . . she was with other guys. Enough for me to get it. If I’m guilty of anything it’s. . . I guess, being jealous and doing stupid things because of it. Like screwing other women. But I didn’t kill Vicky. I wouldn’t have laid a finger on her.’

The other guide calls Harry again.

Alex takes a deep breath.

‘Go, do your job,’ he says.

Harry hesitates, but then he turns and walks back to the bus.

Alex takes his phone out then, checks the photo again and sees the lie.

He listens to Agatha’s voice message before calling her, a frown on his face.

When he dials her number, it rings out.

Agatha pulls up at Miika’s farm and immediately notices that his snowmobile is gone.

It’s taken her a while to get here, coming by car. She’d swung by Becki’s on the way, where she found the kids helping to make trays of cinnamon bakes. Well, Olavi and Onni were helping. Emilia was on the couch in the lounge, keeping an eye on the American teenager who was playing some horrific war game on the Xbox. Agatha knew what Emilia was doing, even though the teenager was at pains to act bored.

Agatha doesn’t mind Emilia being interested in guys who aren’t going to be hanging around. There will be a few more safe years, Agatha reckons, then she’s going to have to watch Emilia like a fox. Whatever happens, Agatha will keep that girl safe from the types of guys Agatha knows are out there.

If she’d taken the snowmobile, she probably would have met Miika going into town.

Her phone rings– it’s Alex again. She knocks it off. She just wants to have this one conversation with Miika, to ask about Kaya’s lover again, and then she’ll tell Alex what she suspects. That Vicky was blackmailing Lassi and that Lassi, who had most likely killed before, killed again.

It’s almost three hours now since Agatha woke and she hasn’t even had coffee. She gets out of the car, walks to Miika’s front door and knocks. No answer. She tries the handle. It opens straight away.

She’s not in the habit of letting herself into people’s houses to make hot drinks but she doubts Miika will mind.

This is what Agatha tells herself as she rifles through the cabinet beside the kitchen table while the kettle builds up to a boil.

She picks up the picture of Kaya. Agatha has a vague memory of seeing her down in town the odd time. She’d always thought Kaya was so grown-up and glamorous, the way all young girls look at older girls, imagining their lives are so much freer and better.

Agatha puts the picture down. She opens a drawer.

She’s not really looking for anything.

She can’t help it. She’s just. . . curious.

She pulls the top drawer open; there’s nothing in it of any importance– a handful of old bills, scissors and measuring tape, some pins. The drawer underneath is the same. But when she tries to close it, it catches against something in the bottom drawer.

Agatha has to shake both drawers and eventually, with brute force, manages to push the middle drawer in by pulling the bottom one out.

Something catches her eye just as something else catches her ear. Agatha stands bolt upright, her pulse racing. The last thing she needs is Miika walking in here and seeing her rooting through his kitchen drawers.

She hears the crunch of footsteps on the snow outside and desperately tries to shove the bottom drawer closed but it’s stuck again and Agatha starts to panic. Maybe if she just stands in front of it, it won’t be noticeable? He’d have to look down to see it sticking out. She can talk a lot, keep him distracted.

Agatha is considering her options when the door opens and Luca walks in, dark hair loose on her large white puffer jacket, eyes glistening.

Agatha’s jaw drops.

Frying pan, fire, is what she thinks.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasps, fearfully.

‘I’ve been following you,’ Luca says, with a light laugh, as if it’s obvious.

The blood drains from Agatha’s face.

She went to Becki’s before she came here.

She went to Becki’s. . . she led Luca right to them.

Agatha has to get to the kids. She moves towards the door but Luca blocks her way.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, I followed you to Becki’s,’ Luca says. ‘I saw the kids through the window. I didn’t go near them. I left as soon as you did and followed you up here. Listen to me. I only want to talk to you. If I’d wanted to see the kids, I’d have waited until you left. If I’d wanted to see them, Agatha, I’d have seen them.’

Agatha doesn’t know what to do. Should she rush her sister to get past her? Should she humour her?

Her instincts are telling her to go, and yet, if Luca was right behind her when Agatha arrived at Miika’s cabin, then what she’s saying must be true. Which is not what Agatha would have expected.

Still, just because she left the kids alone this time, doesn’t mean she will the next time, especially now she knows where they are.

Luca laughs again.

‘Your face,’ she says.

‘Stop!’ Agatha shouts. ‘Just fucking stop. Tell me what you want. I’m not doing this again, Luca. Tell me why you’re here and then I want you to go away and never, ever come here again.’

‘Or what?’

Agatha’s heart stops.

That was always something Luca used to say. Or what. She always wanted to know how far you’d go. How far you could be pushed. Luca treated everybody around her as though they were all unwitting subjects in some anthropological experiment she was running.

Agatha studies her sister, trying to predict how this is going to go, but as she does, Luca’s face changes.

The fire in it dies and Luca just looks tired.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she says. ‘Look, I know you’re not going to believe me but I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m not nuts any more. Like, I never was, but, yeah, I know. I did some nutty shit.’

To hell with this, Agatha thinks.

She runs at Luca, tries to push past, but Luca is stronger than she looks. She’s able to withstand Agatha’s tackle.

‘Listen to me!’ she shouts. ‘I’m on medication, Agatha. Proper shit. The doctors, they reckon I have bipolar disorder. They’re right, Agatha.’

Agatha steps back and stares at Luca.

Luca had never conceded there was anything wrong with her. Any time she’d agreed to talk to anybody or accept medication, it had always been under protest.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Agatha says. ‘You’ve come here to tell me this now? After all this time? I know you’re bipolar, Luca. I’ve known it all our goddamn lives. I just didn’t know what it was called.’

Luca holds out her hands and laughs. But then her expression grows serious.

‘I haven’t had a drop of alcohol or touched a non-medicinal drug in two years. You can’t, with the shit I’m on. And I’ve stuck to it. Have to, with the courts and stuff. But, I. . . Agatha, I’ve no interest in disrupting the kids’ lives. I know they’re safer with you.’

‘So, why are you here?’

‘Your message! It made me panic. You sounded upset. And then when I rang back, Emilia was in the police station. I didn’t know why she was there– I thought something had happened. I don’t have your mobile number, I can’t email you, so I had to come up and see you were okay.’

Luca says all this, barely stopping for breath.

It almost sounds convincing, too.

‘Olavi saw you last week and don’t you dare tell me he didn’t,’ Agatha says. ‘He saw you outside his school.’

‘Oh my fucking Christ!’ Luca exclaims. ‘I would never call him a liar, Agatha, but I was nowhere near his school! How could I have been? I haven’t been in in years. What was I wearing? Did he say I spoke to him?’

Agatha tries to process all this.

Why didn’t Luca talk to Olavi? She never had that sort of self-control before. She never just watched the kids. . . she always approached them. Grabbed them in overly tight hugs. Showered them with unwanted affection, like everything was normal and she wasn’t someone whose mood could flip in a blink of an eye, like she wasn’t the woman that filled their nightmares.

Luca starts to laugh again and the sound of it is jarring.

‘My God,’ Luca says. ‘Isn’t it obvious? He saw you, Agatha. We’re fucking twins!’

Agatha blinks.

No, surely not. Could she have been so stupid? She casts her mind back.

Agatha had passed the school that day. She hadn’t called over to say hello; she’d been too busy.

Olavi would have expected Agatha to say hello. If he’d seen her, and she’d been staring over but not waving or calling out. . . is it possible, for a moment, he thought it was his mother?

Had Agatha caused Luca to come here because of a child’s mistake?

While all this is going through Agatha’s head, Luca continues talking.

‘I know what I did to those kids, Agatha. I know I messed up. They’re better off with you—’

Luca stops. Agatha looks at her. Really looks at her. She hears it now. Her sister’s voice sounds different.

It sounds. . . honest.

‘I know how frightened they are of me,’ Luca says, quieter, her head hanging. ‘I remember their. . . I remember them crying in the car that time. You know I never meant to hurt them like that, Ags. Not physically. I made a promise. I’ve kept it. I’m only human, but the one fucking good thing I’ve done is give those kids a chance with you and I deserve some credit for it.’

Tears spring from Luca’s eyes. Even though Agatha can see they’re half for the kids, half for Luca herself, she’s still surprised to realise that they are, in fact, genuine.

Agatha wants to reach out to her; it’s completely natural. At the same time, she knows she won’t. That bond was torn. It can never be fixed. She can never care for Luca as a sister again; not now Agatha has to put the children first.

Agatha moves towards the far side of the room. Her shin hits the open drawer. She looks down and her eyes land on something.

She stares at it in the silence.

Now she knows what she’s looking at, what it is that caught her attention.

Agatha bends down and takes out the small book.

She runs her fingers across the leather binding.

‘Agatha, what the fuck are you doing up here, anyway? Didn’t we use to dare each other to come here as kids? Doesn’t Miika the wife-killer still live here?’

Agatha doesn’t respond. She opens the book and flicks through drawing after drawing.

‘She took it with her,’ Agatha says. ‘It’s in the file. She always had it with her.’

The house had been searched after Kaya disappeared. She knows it was searched. She remembers everybody in town talking about it; she’s seen it in the case records.

As Agatha’s fingers flick through the pages, one drawing catches her eye and she turns back.

It’s a sketch of a man, lying on his side. A man in bed. Naked.

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth.

‘Agatha? What is it?’

‘We’re not safe here,’ Agatha says.

‘What? Agatha, what’s going on?’

Agatha is about to answer when she hears something outside. A snowmobile.

Her car is out front and she presumes Luca parked beside it. If she walks out now, she’ll have to act completely naturally. Can she do that? Can Luca?

He’s far cleverer than she gave him credit for. He’s clearly able to read people. And manipulate them.

Agatha can’t risk it. She can’t convincingly pretend she hasn’t found that book of drawings.

Perhaps they could slip out the back and when he comes into the house, they could race around the front, get into Agatha’s car and take off.

She looks straight at Luca.

‘You know the way you’re allegedly not nuts any more?’

Luca frowns.

‘I need you to do something fucking nuts.’