Then I put the phone down with a click.

The message was gone.

I could see the shower-room mirror from where I sat on the bed, and now that the shower was turned off and the extractor fan was running, the steam had all but disappeared. All you could see were a couple of runnels of water where the bottom of the two Is in DIGGING had been, and that was it.

Nilsson would never believe me.

When I had showered and dressed, I walked back along the corridor. I looked in as I passed the other two rooms, but they were quite empty, their doors open, showing neatly cleared couches ready for the next clients. How long had I been asleep for?

When I made my way up the stairs to the spa reception, it, too, was empty, apart from Eva, who was sitting at the desk and typing something on a laptop. She looked up as I emerged from the concealed door and smiled.

“Ah! Miss Blacklock. Did you enjoy your treatment? Ulla went down to remove the wraps a little while ago but you were deeply asleep; she was planning to return in quarter of an hour. I hope you weren’t disorientated to wake up alone.”

“It’s fine,” I said tightly. “When did Chloe and Tina leave?”

“About twenty minutes ago, I think.”

I nodded at the door behind me, the one I’d just come through—now closed again and invisible unless you knew the mirror’s secret.

“Is this the only entrance to the spa?”

“It depends what you mean by entrance,” she said slowly, obviously confused by the question. “It is the only entrance but it is not the only exit. There is a fire exit downstairs that leads into the staff quarters, but it is . . . what’s the word. Single way? It opens outwards only. Also it is alarmed, so I don’t recommend you use it or there will be an evacuation! Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

I had made a mistake in blabbing to Nilsson this morning. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I was keeping my cards close to my chest this time.

“They are serving lunch in the Lindgren Lounge,” Eva said, “but don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything—it is a buffet lunch, so people are free to come and go. Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said as I turned to go. “Did Mr. Howard find you?”

“No.” I stopped dead, my hand on the door. “Why?”

“He came here looking for you. I explained that you were undergoing a treatment so he could not speak to you personally, but he went downstairs to leave a message with Ulla. Would you like me to try to find it?”

“No,” I said shortly. “I’ll find him myself. Did anyone else go down?”

She shook her head.

“No. I have been here the whole time. Miss Blacklock, are you sure nothing is wrong?”

I didn’t answer. I just turned and left the spa, feeling the chill damp of my skin beneath my clothes, and a cold dread that had spread far deeper.

The Lindgren Lounge was empty except for Cole, who was sitting at a table with his camera in front of him, and Chloe, who was across from him, staring out of the window and forking salad absentmindedly into her mouth. She looked up when I came in and nodded at the chair next to her.

“Hey! Wasn’t the spa amazing?”

“I guess,” I said as I pulled up a chair, and then, realizing how strange and ungracious I must be sounding, I tried again. “I mean, yes, it was. My treatment was very good. I’m just—I’m not good with enclosed spaces. I’m kind of claustrophobic.”

“Oh!” Her face cleared. “I wondered why you looked so tense downstairs. I thought you were hungover.”

“Well.” I gave a false-sounding laugh. “That too, probably.”

Could it have been her, down in the spa? It was definitely possible. But Ben had been so clear about last night—she had never left the room.

What about Tina, then? I thought of her wiry strength, and her fierce reaction to my question about where she had been last night, and I absolutely could believe she would push someone overboard.

Could it have been Ben? He had come down into the spa, and I only had his own word for his alibi last night, after all.

I wanted to scream. This was sending me mad.

“Listen,” I said casually to Chloe, “you were playing poker last night, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t playing. But I was there, yes. Poor Lars got fleeced, but then, he can afford it.” She gave a short, rather heartless laugh, and Cole looked up from the other table and flashed her a grin.

“This is going to sound like an odd question . . . but did any of the others leave the cabin?”

“I couldn’t honestly say,” Chloe said. “I went through to the bedroom after a while. Poker’s the most boring game to watch. Cole was there for a bit of it, weren’t you, Cole?”

“Only for about half an hour,” Cole said. “Like Chloe says, poker’s not really a spectator sport. I do remember Howard leaving. He went to get his wallet.” My mouth was suddenly dry as he continued, “Why d’you want to know?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I tried to force a smile, and changed the subject before he could pin me down for an answer. “How are the photos?”

“Take a look if you like,” he said, tossing the camera across with such casualness that I gasped, and nearly dropped it. “Press the play button on the back and you can scroll through them. I’ll send you a print of any you like.”

I began to work my way through the pictures, going back in time through the voyage, past moody shots of clouds and wheeling gulls, past the poker game last night, pictures of Bullmer laughing and scooping Ben’s chips towards him, and Lars groaning as he laid down a pair of twos to Ben’s three fives. One, from last night, almost took my breath away. It was a photo of Chloe, taken from very close. Her eyes had just flicked towards the camera. You could see the tiny hairs on her cheek, golden in the lamplight, and the smile that just tugged at the corner of her mouth, and there was something so intimate and so tender about the shot that I felt like an intruder even looking at it. My gaze went to Chloe, almost inadvertently, wondering about her and Cole, and she looked up.

“What is it? Found one of me?”

I shook my head and hastily flicked on to the next picture before she had time to look over my shoulder at the little screen. The next one was of myself, the shot that Cole had taken last night that had caught me unawares and caused me to spill my coffee. He had snapped me as I flung my head up in alarm, and the look in my eyes made me flinch.

I pressed the button to continue.

The others were just more of the ship . . . one of Tina on deck looking piercingly at the camera, her eyes like a raptor’s, one of Ben carrying an oversize rucksack up the gangway. I was reminded again of Cole’s enormous trunk. What was in it? Photographic equipment, he’d said, but all I’d seen him use so far was this one point-and-click.

And then I was past the pictures of the ship and into some society party. I was about to hand the camera back when my heart seemed to stutter in my chest and I froze. The screen was displaying a picture of a man eating a canapé.

“Who’s he?” Chloe said over my shoulder. And then, “Wait, isn’t that Alexander Belhomme in the background, talking to Archer?”

It was. But it wasn’t Alexander or Archer I was looking at.

It was the waitress holding the tray of canapés.

She had her face turned half away from the camera and her dark hair was falling out of its clip, across her cheek.

But I was almost certain—almost completely certain—that she was the woman in cabin 10.

- CHAPTER 18 -

I handed the camera back carefully, my heart thumping, wondering whether to say anything. This was proof—irrefutable proof—that Cole, Archer, and Alexander had been in the same room as the woman I’d seen. Should I ask Cole if he knew her?

I sat in an agony of indecision as he switched off his camera and began packing it away.

Fuck. Fuck. Should I say something?

I had no idea what to do. It was possible Cole didn’t realize the significance of the picture he’d taken. The girl was half out of the shot, the focus was on some other person completely, a man I’d never met.