Henrik walked back along the streets of St Ricard. The man hadn’t chased him through the woods from the Thibaud house. At least, he’d not seen or sensed him at all, but then for a good twenty minutes after rushing from the house he’d darted and weaved through the trees at full pace and perhaps the man had simply realized he couldn’t keep up with him.
Despite the brush with the unknown man, Henrik still decided it best to head back into the town rather than hide. Even as an outsider, in the town he felt a relative safety among other people. The streets were much more busy than earlier in the day, with groups of people – mostly skiers – either heading for breakfast or the slopes.
For most of the walk back, thoughts of the man he’d tackled dominated his mind. Who was he? A police officer? Certainly not a uniformed one. A squatter? One of Monique Thibaud’s men? Not a very old man, that was for sure. Even though his face had been partially obscured by his hat, and the fur of his coat, the vision Henrik had in his mind was of a young man.
Shit.
All thoughts of the house and the man were pushed aside when Henrik spotted the uniform on the other side of the street. Not just a gendarme, but one Henrik recognized. The big guy, Coupet. He was talking to a group of men… Coupet looked over. Henrik turned his head away, sank his chin down into his coat, and walked at pace. A yard away from a left turn he looked over his shoulder…
Coupet hadn’t moved and remained talking to the men.
Henrik sighed in relief then carried on his way. He slowed up a little as he approached the steps to Fabrique, the bar he and Ryker had gone to on their first night in St Ricard. It was open. Every bar in the small town opened early it seemed, keen to take advantage of the many tourists staying in self-catered accommodation looking for early morning food, perhaps too hungover to sort it out themselves. Or those who’d come to the Alps more for boozing and atmosphere than skiing.
He looked around him then walked up the steps and inside. Quiet. A quick glance around confirmed none of the main characters from the previous fight were inside. If they had been, Henrik would have made a quick exit. But he did spot a couple of the teenagers from that night over by a pinball machine.
Henrik walked up to them, the boy keenly watching the girl as she slammed the sides of the cabinet. She shouted in anger and smacked the glass top and the boy laughed at her misfortune, then both turned as they sensed Henrik approaching.
The girl’s face was sour, but perhaps more because of the game. The boy’s smile remained for a second until a spark of recognition took it away.
‘You?’ the boy said.
‘I’m not here for trouble,’ Henrik said, holding his hands up.
The girl and boy looked at each other.
‘Please. The other night was a mistake. But… I wanted to find Ella. Do you know where she is?’
No answer for a few seconds. Then, ‘She works at the Grimaldi Lodge in the mornings, cooking breakfast,’ the girl said. She looked at her watch.
Henrik sensed movement to his side. He glanced that way. No one nearby but the bartender – same one as the previous night – was standing at the end of the bar glaring over.
‘Thanks,’ Henrik said to the boy and girl, then he spun around and quickly headed for the door.
Grimaldi Lodge. He’d spotted the sign before. A log cabin-type structure that sat near the base of one of the ski lifts. He turned right, away from the bar, thinking about what he’d say to her…
Smack.
He walked straight into the man. Well, it was hard to miss him really, he was massive. And wearing a not particularly inconspicuous uniform.
Coupet.
Henrik thought about bolting.
‘I thought it was you,’ Coupet said, looking down on Henrik with something approaching a snarl on his face.
Henrik took a step back but Coupet reached forward with a long arm and rested his meaty hand on Henrik’s shoulder.
‘Where’s your dad?’
Henrik looked around him. He spotted several pedestrians. A few looked over, perhaps wondering what he’d done wrong to be accosted by the officer. Should he shout for help before running? Would anyone come to his aid?
‘He’ll be right here,’ Henrik said. ‘Any second.’
Coupet’s eyes flickered. Anticipation? Doubt?
‘Yeah? So you know, I’m not happy about you two coming back here.’
Henrik didn’t say anything. Perhaps the lie, the threat of Ryker, was enough to keep Coupet at bay.
‘Just make sure you both stay out of trouble. Or your deal with Ms Thibaud is off.’
With that, Coupet took his hand away and sauntered down the street, leaving Henrik brimming with relief, but equally confused as to what the hell had just happened.
What deal with Thibaud?
He watched Coupet for a few seconds, glanced across at the other passersby too, all now minding their own business. Then Henrik walked off, bemused.
Less than five minutes later he climbed the steep steps to the entrance of Grimaldi Lodge, his feet crunching on the freshly laid grit-salt. A smell of fried meat wafted as he headed inside. A plump middle-aged man sat behind a worn-looking wooden reception desk. He looked up at Henrik who simply nodded as he carried on, following his nose. All he had to do was appear confident, he’d learned, and people assumed he belonged.
He headed along a corridor, past the not-very-busy dining room, through a swing door, and into the chrome-rich kitchen that was filled with smoke and steam. Four workers. Not exactly rushed off their feet. A grumpy-looking man with a dirty apron and bright-red cheeks, checking a clipboard, noticed Henrik first. Glared at him. Henrik spotted Ella, taking a pile of plates from a dishwasher. She flinched when she saw Henrik, almost dropped the pile.
‘This isn’t the dining room,’ the red-cheeked man bellowed and looked like he was about to come over to stop Henrik from going any further into his space.
‘It’s okay,’ Ella said, darting forward. She spun Henrik around. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’
‘I came to see you.’
‘I’m working.’
She pushed him out the door. He turned and looked at her.
‘Until when?’ he asked.
She didn’t answer straight away. Then sighed. ‘Eleven.’
‘I’ll wait.’
‘Not in here, you won’t.’ She looked back at her boss, who continued glaring, then pushed Henrik further away. ‘I’ll meet you outside.’
* * *
Ella came out of the doors of Grimaldi Lodge at five past eleven. The snow had started twenty minutes before that and Henrik had shaken himself down several times to stop the accumulation on his head and clothes. Hairnet and apron gone, Ella’s light-brown hair spilled out from beneath her woolly bobble hat and draped down the front of her winter coat, framing her freckled face. She looked good. Even if she didn’t exactly look pleased to see him.
‘I wished you hadn’t done that,’ she said to him, taking away some of his smile.
‘What?’
‘Barged into the kitchen like that. Olivier doesn’t like me anyway, I didn’t need any more reasons for him to be angry with me.’
‘Sorry, I—’
‘Why are you here? I mean, I’m surprised you’re here. I thought after…’
‘After?’
She didn’t say anything.
‘You thought after your friends and those men tried to beat up me and my dad that we’d run off?’
‘Yeah… I think so. Except… They didn’t beat you up, did they? Your dad…’
She didn’t finish the sentence, but something about the way she spoke suggested she was in awe of Ryker, perhaps with the way he’d handled the scuffle while so outnumbered. She’d probably be horrified if she knew exactly what Ryker was capable of, and what he and Henrik had already been through together.
‘And most of those people aren’t my friends,’ she added. ‘I know them, but that’s not the same thing.’
‘You look gorgeous,’ Henrik blurted out.
She smiled meekly. ‘With my boots and big winter coat and hat? Yeah, really glamorous.’
At least his compliment had softened her mood a little.
‘It’s freezing out here,’ Henrik said. ‘Could we go somewhere warmer?’
‘Somewhere? To do what?’
‘Talk.’
She held his eye a few beats, as though trying to read his mind. But as attracted to her as he was, he really had no ulterior motive. He did want to talk.
‘I live a few minutes away. My parents are at work.’
Henrik smiled. ‘Let’s go.’
* * *
Ella’s home was small but quaint. One of several apartments in a stone-built complex. The type of place tourists visiting the area would love, with a wood-paneled open living space taking up the top floor, overlooking the ski slopes, while the bedrooms were all downstairs. Henrik sat back on a sofa as Ella brought hot chocolates over. Outdoor gear stripped off, her tight jeans and roll-neck jumper showed off her svelte frame.
‘Where’s your dad today?’ she asked.
‘Skiing.’
She didn’t look convinced by that. She sat down next to him, curled her feet under her, holding her mug in both hands.
‘What did you want to talk about?’ she asked.
‘You,’ he said, receiving a coy smile in return.
‘Go on then. Ask away.’
And for the next ten minutes, he did ask all about her. He got her talking freely about her parents, her younger brother who annoyed the hell out of her, her plans for next year when she wanted to go to university, though she was torn as to whether to defer and work a ski season or two and travel first. Henrik was genuinely interested, but he was also looking for the moment to divert the conversation.
‘What about you?’ Ella asked.
‘Me?’
‘You said you’re from Norway.’
‘Originally.’
‘But your dad is English.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you’re here for how long?’
‘We haven’t decided yet. We’re both… We don’t like to plan too much. The thing is…’ Henrik thought and sighed. May as well just move things on. ‘The other night, you know why I got into trouble, don’t you?’
‘I think because you were looking for it,’ Ella said. ‘Though I’m not sure why.’
A fair summation?
‘Because I was asking questions about Sophie Thibaud.’
She held his eye. ‘Yes. You were. So who are you more interested in, Sophie or me?’
‘No, that’s not it at all.’
‘It isn’t?’
‘I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?’
‘But you’re talking about her. Again.’
‘Why does talking about her get you beaten up in this town?’
‘Some people are very protective of their privacy.’
‘No. Something else.’
‘Then what do you think?’
‘That some people know things that they want kept secret. About Sophie, and what happened to her family.’
Ella sighed and put her cup down on the table in front of them.
‘You really want to talk about her?’
Henrik nodded.
‘I think… you’re nice, Henrik, even if you do look like you’re only fifteen.’ She laughed; he did too, even though he felt a little bad for her. He’d told her he was eighteen. She’d turn eighteen in a few months. He certainly didn’t look old for his age, but he guessed he acted more maturely than most fifteen-year-olds did, given everything he’d been through, and he was sure if he’d been honest she wouldn’t have invited him over to her house. ‘You’re funny too. And… I’ve always tried to ignore the tourists who come here looking for flings, but… I like you.’
‘I like you.’
‘But you’re not winning any favors with me by always wanting to talk about someone else.’
‘Can’t I be interested in more than one thing?’
‘Two different girls? Not with me, no.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
He put his cup down next to hers and leaned forward. She didn’t move as he reached out and kissed her lightly on the neck, then as he moved in closer, she ducked down a little so his lips met hers. They both stayed there for a few moments. Then he pulled away.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘Can I be truthful with you?’
‘You haven’t been already?’
‘There’s a reason I’m asking about Sophie.’
Ella grumbled and looked away.
‘Please, just listen. You can’t tell anyone this. Do you promise?’
The suspicion on her face gave away her thoughts but she still said, ‘Yes.’
‘Me and my dad… We’re not really here for a holiday.’ That grabbed her interest, though the suspicion remained. ‘I can’t say who we work for, but… it’s important. We’re investigating what happened to the Thibauds. We think they weren’t really killed in a robbery. We’re not even sure the men the police blamed are responsible.’
‘But… they’re…’
‘They’re both dead. They can hardly clear their names now, can they?’
‘So your dad is an investigator?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Who hired him?’
‘I can’t say any more.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
He reached out and put his hand over hers. Felt a little bit bad for his manipulation – is that what it was? – but only a little bit. Is this how it felt to be Ryker? ‘Because I like you, and I trust you.’
Ella didn’t respond. She didn’t move at all. Henrik left his hand on hers.
‘You and Sophie were friends,’ he said.
‘We…’
‘I’ve seen photos of the two of you together.’
‘When? What photos?’
‘I’m not trying to trick you. I just want to know about her. What was she like? Were there any problems at home? Or with anyone else in town? Boys?’
Her face twitched at that last word.
‘She had a boyfriend?’
Ella shook her head and looked away and took her hand out from underneath Henrik’s.
‘Not a boyfriend. Not really. I think… I think she liked him more than he liked her.’
She flicked a glare at Henrik, as though insinuating the same with the two of them.
‘What’s his name?’
She sighed. ‘I shouldn’t…’
‘You should, Ella. This could be really important. And the police must have asked you about this already?’
‘The police?’
She looked really worried.
‘The police never spoke to you about Sophie?’
‘No. Never.’
‘See? You don’t think that’s odd?’
‘You think the police…’
‘Are hiding something? Yes, I do.’
She seemed to think about that for a few moments, the worry on her face growing all the time. Gone now were the questions over whether Henrik was interested in her or not.
‘Have you seen Sophie since she was rescued?’ Henrik asked.
‘No. No one has.’
‘And you haven’t spoken to her on the phone? Messaged her? Anything?’
‘I did message her. But her aunt… She’s really protective.’
‘When was the last time you heard from her?’
‘Weeks ago.’
‘You don’t think that’s odd?’
‘Of course, it’s odd. But everything about St Ricard is odd. Take away the tourists and we’re like this little inbred town. And the Thibauds run it. They always have done. They own most of the homes, the hotels, bars, restaurants, the ski slopes, even. Me and my friends used to joke it should be called St Thibaud.’
‘They own everything?’ Henrik said, sounding more surprised than he’d intended.
‘You didn’t know? The town was basically started by them. They owned all the land. Still own most of it now. Most of the buildings here were built with stone they mined from their land or from the wood from their trees. They own this building. My parents pay rent for this house every month. Of course, it doesn’t go directly to the Thibauds but it’s a company controlled by them. Same for virtually everyone here. And many people rely on them for jobs too. Why do you think those men in the bar got so angry when you started asking questions? Everyone has to bow down to them or they have no job, no home.’
Henrik mulled that over for a few moments. He picked up his hot chocolate and took a large mouthful. Only lukewarm now.
‘What about her boyfriend? Has he seen her?’
‘I said, he’s not her boyfriend.’
‘So who is he?’
She seemed reluctant, but then said, ‘Michel Lemerre.’
‘Do you have a picture of him?’
Reluctance again, but then Ella took out her phone and scrolled through the pictures before turning the screen Henrik’s way. He’d seen the same photo on Sophie’s wall, a sunny picture in the mountains with Ella, Sophie, another girl, two boys, one of which was the guy who Henrik had punched in the bar.
‘Him,’ Henrik said, feeling anger rise as he pointed at the boy.
‘No. The other one.’
Henrik looked again in silence for a few moments.
‘He looks older,’ he said.
‘He’s twenty.’
‘He lives here?’
‘Not anymore. He’s at university in Marseille. He went back in September.’
‘You haven’t seen him since?’
‘And I wouldn’t expect to. His parents left the area in October, so he won’t be coming back.’
Henrik considered her words. Had he stumbled over something key? He realized Ella was glaring.
‘That’s really helpful,’ he said. He shuffled closer to her and reached out to take her hand again, but she whipped it away.
‘No,’ she said, moving back. ‘You’ve already got what you came here for.’
‘But, I—’
‘Sorry, Henrik, but it’s time for you to leave.’