‘David Paley.’
She pulls up a chair and sits down beside him. ‘Maybe you could tell me who everybody is, and then tell me what happened.’
She listens grimly as he gives her the story. When he’s finished, she says to them all, ‘We’ll look for Riley, just as soon as we can.’
After that, Sergeant Sorensen instructs Perez and Wilcox to remain in the lobby to ensure the safety of the survivors. She keeps Lachlan with her, to take notes, and as a second pair of eyes and ears. She does a quick walk through the hotel and its environs, with Lachlan by her side.
They start in the lobby. She pulls a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and puts them on, then walks over to the bottom of the staircase, feeling the eyes of the survivors on her back. She squats down, notes the blood on the edge of the stair. She looks up to the top of the staircase, and back down again.
She motions Lachlan to follow her. She climbs the staircase, hardly making a sound. How quiet the stairs are, she thinks. All she can hear is the squeak of her boots. She continues to the second floor, Lachlan behind her. They arrive at the room to the left of the stairs across the hall, number 206. Taking the key that James had handed her, she opens the door carefully with her gloved hands. She flicks on the overhead light. Inside she sees the body of the second victim, slumped on the floor, her scarf still wound tightly around her throat. She and Lachlan take a close look, careful not to disturb her.
Next they visit room 202, the room that had not been made up. She takes in the messy bed, the unwiped sink. She glances wordlessly at Lachlan, who purses his lips. Forensics will go over this room with a fine-tooth comb, when they get here.
The two of them make their way back down the stairs and out through the woodshed and the bitter cold and down the path to the icehouse. When they step inside, the first thing she sees is Bradley’s body lying near the back wall, the only colour in the glittering, translucent interior. She stops, takes a deep breath. She knew what she was going to find, but still, it’s hard to see Bradley stiff on the snow floor, dead. She takes a closer look. Such a fine-looking boy. Such an awful blow to the head.
Beside him, another body has been placed on the floor against the wall. It’s wrapped tightly in a white sheet. ‘Might as well unwrap her,’ she says. Lachlan puts on a pair of gloves and carefully pulls the sheet partly away. They look down at the woman’s frozen face, distorted by death. She can see that she was beautiful. She’s dressed in a negligee and a navy satin robe. Seeing her there, dead, lying in an icehouse so scantily clad, Sorensen shivers involuntarily.
‘Christ. What a horror show,’ she says, with feeling.
She leans down and studies the head wound.
Eventually she stands up. ‘I want to see where Bradley was killed.’
They head back inside and then go out again through the front door. Outside, they follow the smears of blood. The spot where Bradley was killed is about thirty yards from the hotel. There’s an impression in the icy snow, and a dark red patch of blood where Bradley fell. She sees the boot scraper in the ice a couple of feet away. She gives it as thorough a look as she can with her bare eyes, and then turns away, sick at heart. She looks back at the hotel and says to Lachlan, ‘What the hell happened here?’
Lachlan shakes his head.
Back in the lobby again, Sorensen pulls Perez and Wilcox aside and explains the situation. ‘The two of you need to search this hotel thoroughly, from top to bottom. Check all the nooks and crannies, the closets, the cellars, the attic, if there is one. Take James with you, if he’s up to it. Treat him gently; he’s just lost his son. Check outside, too, and all the doors and windows, every outbuilding. We need to be absolutely sure there is no one else here. And that no one else was here.’
‘Will do,’ Perez says.
‘Meanwhile, Lachlan and I will search the area in front of the hotel for Riley.’ She adds grimly, ‘She can’t have got far.’
Outside, she and Lachlan stand at opposite sides of the broad lawn where the scrub begins and start their sweep, working towards one another and out again as they proceed. When they reach the edge of the woods, they must move more carefully, looking for signs that someone has passed this way. Sorensen remembers other searches in woods like these, looking for lost hunters, sometimes for lost children. Occasionally searches end happily; she’s under no illusions about this one. A woman alone, not dressed for the elements – it wouldn’t have been long before hypothermia set in. Unless she knew something about how to survive alone in the winter woods, and Sorensen doubts that. To make matters worse, Riley was in a panic, not thinking clearly. And the first rule of survival is to not panic.
The branches snap beneath her boots, and the cold, sharp air makes her chest feel tight. She scans the forest, always aware of Lachlan’s carefully moving presence to her left. She usually loves walking in the woods, but not today. Along with the urgency she always feels with a ground search – the simultaneous hope and fear – she knows that there might be a killer here somewhere.
When they’ve been at it for a while and Sorensen is really starting to feel the cold, they enter a little clearing where the snow is deeper. She lifts her eyes across the clearing for signs of human trespass, noticing nothing, but then Lachlan calls, ‘Over here.’
Just from the tone of his voice, she knows.
Nevertheless, she hastens over to him as fast as she can, clumsy in the deep snow. Lachlan is standing over something darker against the white, a shape huddled up against a large boulder. As she comes closer, she sees that it’s a woman, approximately thirty, face an eerie white, lips blue, eyes open but crusted in ice. She’s dressed in jeans and a grey sweater. Running shoes. No coat, no hat. She’s crouched up against the boulder, stiff as a board, her knees to her chest and her arms around them, as if hiding, or waiting for something inevitable. Her hands are tucked into her sleeves. It almost breaks Sorensen’s heart, but she’s careful not to show it. Instead, she bends forward to examine her more closely. There are no visible signs of violence. She pulls back again.
‘Shit,’ Lachlan mutters.
Crows gather and fly overhead, dark against the pale sky, and Sorensen watches them for a moment.
‘No signs of trauma,’ Sorensen says finally, glancing at Lachlan.
‘But who was she running from,’ Lachlan says, shaking his head, ‘out here without a coat?’
‘I don’t think she even knew.’
Chapter Thirty-two
Sunday, 10:05 AM
SORENSEN AND LACHLAN return to the hotel and deliver the bad news. Sorensen doesn’t think anyone expected Riley to still be alive, but it is difficult nonetheless. Predictably, her friend Gwen takes it the hardest. She sobs loudly and begins to rock, wailing uncontrollably. Sorensen sits beside Gwen, a hand on her shoulder until she calms down.