The Ski Trip by Sarah Clarke

Author:Sarah Clarke [Clarke, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2023-06-27T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Ivy

I kick clumps of snow as I walk back along the river path. I can’t believe the detective was so defeatist. That he basically admitted the case was too difficult for him to solve. Even though I heard echoes of my own mindset – the necessity of facts – it still felt wrong that he was so content to give up.

I’m still in a bad mood when I get back to the chalet, so it’s not great to see Zoe sat at the outside table. The air is fresh, but the sun has made another appearance today, and Zoe’s face is tilted towards it, her body wrapped in a thick blanket. I want to walk past her, go to my room, phone home. But I can’t ignore her. ‘Hey, Zoe.’

She turns, cups her hand over her forehead to avoid the sun’s glare. ‘You’re back.’

I nod. ‘Are you feeling better?’

‘I’ve stopped being sick if that’s what you mean,’ she says staring at my midriff, the plastic bag held against my ski jacket, knowing what’s inside. ‘But Rob’s in a foul mood. The police haven’t dropped their passports round yet so he’s raging. I think he’s gone down there to demand them back.’

My stomach catapults. Rob’s at the police station? What would have happened if I’d bumped into him there? Is there a chance he saw me without me noticing him?

‘You’ve got Tom’s things,’ Zoe says, her voice catching, bringing me back to the present. I feel a rush of guilt and thrust the bag into her hands. Too late, I realise that Tom’s phone is still in my pocket. I can’t get it out now – how would that look? – so I pull my face into a sympathetic smile.

‘Some things were too damaged to give back to you apparently,’ I say. Suddenly I’m grateful that Dufort has washed his hands of this case, so there’s no chance he’ll be back to expose my lie. ‘Tom’s boots and skis. And his phone unfortunately.’ But luckily, she looks more relieved than disappointed. I watch her carefully pull Tom’s red ski jacket out of the bag and stroke the shiny material.

‘Red for danger,’ she whispers. ‘That’s what they say, isn’t it?’ But I can’t help thinking something else. That dressed in red, Tom would have been more visible than the rest of them in the cloud. An easy target maybe.

‘Shall we go inside?’ I suggest. ‘I walked back, and my toes are frozen.’

Zoe nods, then stands up, and together we walk towards the front door. ‘Did Monsieur Durand mention anything about getting a flight for Tom?’ she asks as we walk inside, warmth rising from the underfloor heating.

‘Only that he would call you when it was organised,’ I say, trying to remember the funeral director’s final instructions as his doubts about Tom’s fall reverberated around my head. ‘I think he was hoping for Friday.’

‘Three more days,’ Zoe says mournfully. ‘I’m not sure I can do it.’

Three more days wondering if Rob killed my friend, while desperately hoping that Harry didn’t.

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