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No greeting from Will, just: “Any news?”

Elin swallows hard, reluctant to quash the hope in his voice. “No sign, I’m sorry. The only thing we’ve found is her bag on the beach.”

“That means she was there, right?” he says quickly. “You need to search the area.”

“We have, but it’s not safe to send anyone out again, not without backup.”

A pause. “What about the threats, there’s got to be some clue there, surely?”

“Yes, but she didn’t give specifics.” Elin feels the telltale prickle of heat on her neck. As soon as the words are out, she realizes her mistake, not only in what she’s let slip—that Farrah confided in her about the earlier threats—but in what she’d done. The reason Farrah didn’t give specifics is because Elin put her off, hadn’t connected it to what was happening. Farrah had tried to confide and Elin batted her away.

“ She didn’t give specifics .” Will’s voice is ominously calm. “What you said then, it sounds like Farrah had already told you about the threats. I don’t see how that’s possible, she was missing when you found them on her computer.”

The burning heat is now creeping up her neck. “I didn’t know, Will—still don’t—if what she told me before is related. She told me it was her ex. Trying to scare her.”

A heavy silence. “Let me get this straight,” Will says finally. “Farrah told you before she went missing that she was being threatened. Did you take the time to check it out?”

“No, but—” Elin’s talking on autopilot because the enormity of what she’s done is only just hitting home. She’d failed Farrah—hadn’t taken seriously what she said.

“You were too busy playing the hero, weren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” she says, taken aback by the aggression in his tone.

“What you’re saying is that you didn’t have time for her, but this... this situation , you’re all over it, and you shouldn’t have been. You said it yourself, you weren’t ready for this kind of case, but you did it anyway. You had doubts—doubts that were justified, because you’ve missed vital stuff—and now Farrah’s missing. If you’d looked into Farrah’s concerns properly, we could have protected her... but no.”

“Look, we don’t even know if Farrah is missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was thinking that there’s a possibility she might have run, or—”

“Or what,” he says flatly.

“Well, I was wondering”—she’s blundering now, in the dark. Why had she brought it up? Wrong time. Wrong tone. “If you did know everything about what happened on the island that night, if Farrah was entirely honest with you. Maybe something else happened.”

He cuts across her. “Despite what I told you about why Farrah lied, to protect me , you’re still doubting her? What do you think really happened, Elin? That she lied to protect herself? And now, what? She’s involved in this somehow? Hasn’t gone missing at all?”

Elin knows she should come back right away with a denial, because she doesn’t think that, not really, she just said it because it was there, in her head, and she wanted to stop him talking, saying all those words about her.

“No, that’s not what I think,” she says quickly, but even to her own ears, her reply sounds insubstantial. “I have to look into everything, you know that.”

There’s a long silence. “I get that, Elin,” he says finally. “That you have to explore it, but you don’t have to believe it too.”

“I don’t.”

“Rubbish, I can hear it in your voice. You’re doubting her, and by default, that means you’re doubting me too. What does that say about us?” His voice wobbles. “Actually, I forgot, us—our relationship—comes second best, doesn’t it? Second best to the job.”

“That’s not true.” Turning, she looks through the window in front of her. Her reflection comes back speckled with debris from the storm.

“It is, and what’s so screwed up is that you don’t even realize it. You took a shortcut with Farrah, and rather than taking responsibility, you’re trying, in some warped way, to point the finger at her. And what you don’t understand is that when it comes to family, you don’t take shortcuts, or maybe you do because your family is so messed up that you don’t know what it’s like to care about someone.”

“Will, I—”

“No, Elin, you don’t get it. What Farrah did for me after Thea died, lying to the police, it was wrong, absolutely, but that’s love. What you’ve done here is the antithesis of that. Tossed away family for your ego.”

“I made a mistake, that’s all.”

“Yes, but a mistake that could have been prevented. You know, all this time, you were worried about being a coward because of not doing something, but sometimes that’s the bravest thing of all. Acknowledging your limits.” His voice has an unfamiliar chill—the one he reserves for the few times someone’s really upset him. “Farrah’s my sister, Elin. My sister.” A long, shuddering breath. “If you had any doubts, any doubts what-so-fucking-ever, you should have told me.”

Elin presses the phone harder to her ear. A horrible, ugly shame washes over her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that what she was going to tell me was about something important like this, the case...”

A pause. “That sums it up. You didn’t think it was about anything important like this. The this you’re referring to is your job. Our relationship will never be as important as your job. It’s where you’re alive, Elin. I glimpsed it in Switzerland, thought it was because the case was personal, but it’s not.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water on her face.

Elin can hear the wretchedness in his voice, which she knows is mainly down to what’s happened with Farrah, but it still cuts her to the core. She wants to protest, push back, but she can’t.

Part of her knew from the minute she stepped onto the island that she was making a mistake, but she did it because she wanted to, had to, felt compelled to. Maybe it was because her brother died so young. She’d never consciously acknowledged it, but since it happened, she was acutely aware that she didn’t want to live a bland life. She wanted to live a life on the edge, full of electric, vibrant emotion, because Sam never would.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to find her.” It’s all she has. Although it feels like her heart is breaking, the words on the tip of her tongue to express that, words that would make this better—the proper sorrys and I-love-yous—they won’t come out. That part of her... it’s malfunctioning. Stuck.

“I know you are, but there’ll always be something. Another case, another bit between your teeth. Nothing I do or say will be able to compete with that.”

Elin’s numb. It’s as if Will’s ripped away the protective veneer she’s wrapped around herself. Left her exposed. The person she trusts the most has been the one to pull back the veil. “I’m not giving up on finding her.”

“I know that, but what’s happened, it’s made me think about things. When you come home, I think it’s best if we talk, Elin. Decide how we best move forward.”