Two men lean down beside the stricken woman, checking for her pulse. Rachel can only presume that they can’t find one, as they start talking loudly and quickly. “Chrissy!” she calls out again, as tears stream down her face.
She shuffles out of the way as more paramedics move in like worker bees around honey, each of them working in synergy in an attempt to revive Chrissy.
“I can’t find Paige,” says Noah desperately, kneeling down beside Rachel.
“Well, she’s got to be here somewhere,” says Rachel, looking around. “Where was she when it happened?”
Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought she was with Jack.”
In that moment, Rachel suddenly remembers all that had gone on before, and her already-splintered heart breaks in two. Before the fireworks: Paige on the terrace with Jack, pretending to anyone looking on that they were casually enjoying a cigarette together—the bracelet on her wrist saying otherwise.
Had they still been there when she’d come around the corner after speaking to Ali? She shakes her head, trying to place them, but the terrace had been full by the time she’d arrived and she hadn’t been able to see them or Noah.
“I saw them out here when I was inside at the bar,” says Noah. “But by the time I came out, there was no sign of them. I don’t know where they were.”
Rachel pulls herself toward Jack, who is lying on his back on the deck with his eyes open. “Help is coming,” she says. “Just a couple more minutes.”
Jack manages a shivery nod. “Can he have your jacket?” Rachel asks Noah.
“Don’t you need it more?” Noah says, taking it off.
Shock’s setting in, freezing her to the core, but she shakes her head, taking the jacket and laying it over Jack’s chest. He winces, despite her barely touching him, making her wonder what other injuries may lie beneath the surface.
“Where’s Paige?” she whispers close to his ear, conscious of how loaded the question is.
His eyes flicker and slide toward her.
“Was she with you?” she asks, not wanting him to exert himself. “When it happened?”
“Sh…” he starts, the one syllable clearly causing him pain.
“Blink once for yes,” says Rachel. “Twice for no.”
He has to exert all his energy into closing his eyelids and opening them with purpose. Rachel and Noah watch intently, both of them desperately hoping that he blinks again to say she wasn’t with him. Because if she was, where is she now?
Rachel shudders as she tries to fend off the terrifying thought that Paige might have been knocked into the sea—which, as the waves crash against the terrace, doesn’t look like it will give anyone up easily.
26
Noah’s is the first face Rachel sees when she comes around from the anesthetic and, for a moment, she thinks she’s still under its influence. His features are softened, as if she’s looking through a blurred lens, but as the focus sharpens, she sees his brow is creased and he has bags under his eyes.
So many thoughts railroad her brain, though she’s unable to separate the flashbacks from a dream she thinks she’s had. A car is up in the air—she can see its underside—yet when it crashes into the water, she’s inside, thrashing to get out. She gasps, as if desperate for air.
“It’s okay,” says Noah, as if able to see her innermost thoughts. “You’re safe now.”
“Where am I?” she asks raspingly.
“You’re in a hospital in Portugal,” says Noah. “You’ve had an operation on your leg, but you’re going to be just fine.”
He looks like he hasn’t slept for days; is that how long she’s been out for? And if he’s by her side, waiting for her to come round, does that mean he doesn’t have his own wife to watch over? And where’s Jack? Shouldn’t he be here?
She suddenly remembers him lying next to her, shivering, with blood covering his face.
“Jack?” she breathes, going to pull herself up. The needle in the back of her hand tugs and she winces.
“Ssh,” says Noah, gently holding her down. “He’s okay. He’s being patched up, but he’s going to be okay.”
She allows herself to fall back into the pillow, trying to recall at what point the party turned into a nightmare. She sees flashes of Ali and Jack in a cave, Paige going to push Ali off the cliff, Josh as a baby in Jack’s arms, Noah and Josh laughing and drinking in a pub … all the images bombard her fragile brain and she’s unable to determine which of them really happened and which she’s imagined.
“Where’s Paige?” she asks, fearful of the answer.
Noah drops eye contact and stares intently at the bedsheets.
“Where is she?”
He shakes his head. “We don’t know,” he says quietly.
She goes to pull herself up again. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“She’s wasn’t on the terrace,” he says. “The police think she could have been knocked into the sea.”
“Is everybody else accounted for?”
Noah nods.
“So, it’s just Paige who’s missing?” she asks incredulously.
“And the driver,” says Noah.
They both look away from each other, neither of them prepared to even begin to acknowledge that it could be one and the same person.
“What the hell happened?” cries Rachel, the enormity of the situation bearing down on her.
“I don’t know,” says Noah. “They were going to recover the car at first light.” He looks out of the window at the pink-tinged sky. “So we should have some answers any time now.”
“Mrs. Hunter?” comes a voice.
Rachel looks up to see a man knocking on an invisible door at the foot of her bed. “May I come in?”
Rachel nods, assuming that he’s a doctor, in his beige chinos and open-necked pale-blue shirt. Dark hair curls around his collar and he offers the kindest of smiles. The sort that heals people.
“I am Afonso Da Silva from the police department,” he says, taking Rachel completely by surprise. He extends his hand before realizing that hers is otherwise occupied by the IV drip. He nods, almost imperceptibly, to Noah, implying that they’ve already met.
“This is Sophia Casimiro,” he says, turning to the woman who’s just appeared beside him. “She is assisting me in this incident.”
Rachel wonders what an “incident” means in Portugal. He didn’t say accident, crime or inquiry, so it gives her no clue as to what they’re actually investigating. Might it be a missing person case, while they search for Paige?
“I have spoken with your consultant,” the policeman goes on. “And she thinks you might be well enough to answer a few questions.”
Rachel looks at Noah, who gives a small nod.
“I still feel a little bit woozy, but I should be able to tell you anything you need to know.”
Da Silva’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry, woozy? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Rachel manages the tiniest of smiles. “Just a little sleepy from the surgery,” she says.
“Ah, my English is not that good, I’m afraid.”
“It’s better than my Portuguese,” offers Rachel.
“Okay, so while Ms. Casimiro speaks with you, perhaps, Mr. Collins, you would come with me?”
“Oh no,” says Rachel. “It’s fine. I’m happy to talk to you with Noah here. In fact, I’d prefer it.”
“I will be needing Mr. Collins to accompany me for just a few moments,” he says, holding a hand out to encourage Noah to leave.
“Do you know something?” he asks, getting out of his chair. “Have you found her? Have you found Paige?”
“Please, Mr. Collins,” says the policeman patiently. “Come with me.”
Noah turns to look at Rachel wide-eyed and terrified, as if they’re leading him to the gallows.
“Have you found her?” Rachel asks the policewoman who is getting a notebook out of her crossover bag.
“They will have news soon,” says the woman, sitting down on the imitation-leather armchair next to Rachel’s bed. “If I could, please, ask one or two questions?”
Rachel knows they know more than they’re letting on. “Is she alive?” she asks, in desperation.