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Right.” Rachel shoves her camera into her bag. “I think I’ve gone as far as I can on the forensic front.” Her voice is flat with the kind of weariness that comes with extreme concentration.

Elin’s eyes once again travel over Bea’s body. Maybe she’s imagining it, but she can smell the blood in the air, starting to turn—a musky, metallic tang. Her stomach flips.

“Any sign of a phone?” she says to Steed, thinking of the call Bea made when Tom left her in the meeting room.

Rachel pulls down her hood to reveal wet hair, a ring of indentation marking her forehead where the hood has gripped her flesh. “Doesn’t look like she had anything on her when she went over, unless it went into the sea. Unlikely, given where the body was found. Nothing with Leon?”

“No. I did find her suitcase, but no phone was inside.”

“She’d have had it on her, wouldn’t she?” Steed steps forward. He, too, is now red—the telltale mark of sunburn forming on his cheeks. He stretches, his shirt patchy with sweat, individual continents starting to overlap across his muscles like tectonic plates.

“I’d have thought so. No sign of anything else? Leon found a mark in the grass on top of the cliff. We thought she may have dropped something, knocked it over with her.”

“Not that I can see, sorry.” Rachel’s climbing out of her suit. “Is Leon finished?”

“Yes. He’s packing up.”

“You’re happy with everything?” Steed murmurs.

“More or less. CCTV’s pretty conclusive, an accident rather than anything more sinister, but a few things are bothering me about why she was here. I need a bit more time to think it through.”

“Makes sense. What are you going to do about the scene?”

“Release it, get her to the hospital mortuary. I’m going to run everything past the DCI now. If she agrees, I’ll call for the police boat.” It’s a big decision to release the scene, but they have the evidence they need, regardless of the backstory to Bea being here. Steed nods.

Elin picks her way back over the rocks, but this time as she navigates the uneven surface, she’s slower—it feels like she’s wading through mud. Her stomach growls. She glances at her watch: past lunchtime. Food and drink are calling.

Jumping off the rocks and onto the beach, she walks toward the shade beneath a rocky overhang of cliff.

About to pull her phone from her pocket, she pauses. A woman is striding toward her, her gait erratic, struggling with the soft sand. Hana.

She stops in front of Elin, nervously plucking at her dress. “I wanted to speak to you alone.” Her dark bob has separated into thick clumps clinging to her cheeks, the oval of her face pronounced. “I know what happened to Bea was an accident, that probably this isn’t relevant, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say anything. It’s important, isn’t it, in a situation like this, to say everything, even if it sounds stupid?”

“Of course. Shall we sit down first?” Elin points to the large boulders squatting at the edge of the beach. “Get some shade.”

But Elin hasn’t even pulled out her notebook when Hana starts speaking. “My cousin, Maya, thinks that someone did leave the villa last night. When you asked us about it, someone...” She stops, struggling to get out the words.

“Someone lied,” Elin finishes for her.

Hana nods. There’s a pause before she looks up at her, her expression tumultuous. “You know, I thought this trip was a bad idea from the beginning. Everything I’ve heard about the island, those murders, the rumors about that school...”

Elin’s pulse picks up. “What do you mean?”

“Maya’s father’s friend worked at the old school for a while. Didn’t last long. He told her this place was bad news.” Her expression darkens as she looks around her. “Now we’re here, I know exactly what he meant.”