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The sky was a watery blue as they walked across the fields, the air completely still, as if the wind had exhausted itself with all the blowing it had done during the night. Evidence of the havoc the storm had wreaked was everywhere; twigs littered the footpaths and several times Gabriel had to stoop to lift branches out of their way. They took the route over the fields, but an hour later—the time it took for them to walk it—they hadn’t found a single trace of Laure.
“Maybe we should try the quarry,” she said, as they made their way home.
Gabriel came to an abrupt stop. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just—I told you, she was always trying to get me to go there.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s out of bounds, we’re not allowed. Besides—” he stopped, but Iris knew what he was going to say, that he didn’t want to go there.
“It’s okay,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “I’ll go.”
“Why don’t we leave it to the police?”
She snatched her hand away in irritation. “Because by the time they do anything it might be too late! What if she went there and fell and hurt herself, broke her ankle or something? What if she’s been lying injured all night, in the pouring rain?”
She saw Gabriel swallow. “You’re right. Let’s go and see.”
They took the path through the woods in silence, then took the track up to the top of the quarry, calling Laure’s name and checking the dense woods, which acted as a barrier between the path and the edge of the quarry, in case she’d taken refuge there. Water dripped down their necks as they pushed branches heavy with rain out of the way. At one point, the woods thinned out and the edge of the quarry was just feet away.
“This must have been where Charlie came off the path,” Gabriel said, his face ashen.
Iris gave an involuntary shudder. “Is that where you found him, down there?” she said, craning her neck.
He grabbed her arm. “Keep away from the edge!”
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not! Have you seen how slippery the ground is?”
She heard the fear in his voice. “Sorry.”
“Come on, let’s go home. She’s not here. I think it must be as the police said, and she went back to Paris.”
She shook her head. “If Laure had gone to meet Pierre, she would have told us. I think something has happened to her.” She picked up her pace. “Police stations don’t shut, do they?”
39
Gabriel closed the bedroom door quietly behind him, relieved that Iris was finally sleeping, mentally and emotionally exhausted from hours of weeping. He still couldn’t believe it. No matter how often he said the words, it wouldn’t sink in.
Laure was dead.
Iris was distraught, blaming herself because Laure had asked her to go running, but she’d wanted to have a bath. She said that if she’d gone with Laure, Laure wouldn’t have gone to the quarry.
When questioned by the police, Iris had told them how Laure had been curious about the place where Charlie Ingram had fallen. So that was what they thought had happened—Laure had gone to see for herself and had stumbled over the edge.
It was the police who found her, not far from where Gabriel had found Charlie. But her body had been farther back, behind a boulder. Unlike Charlie, she hadn’t been propelled over the boulder by the speed of a bike, she had simply fallen straight down.
Gabriel couldn’t bear to think about it. It was too horrific.
40
There was a ring at the door. Iris closed her eyes.
“Please let that be Laure,” she murmured. “Please let there have been a terrible mistake.”
Gabriel squeezed her shoulder and went to answer the door. When Iris opened her eyes again, a police officer was standing in front of her.
“How are you doing, Iris?” the police officer, tall, blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail—PC Locke, Iris remembered—asked.
