One by One

by Ruth Ware

  “You’re not a strong enough skier,” he whispers back. “Please, darling, believe me, I would if I could, but it’s just too—”

  “I won’t stay here without you!”

  “Oi, what about the other chalet?” We all turn to see Carl, standing in the living room doorway, his hands in his pockets. Miranda frowns, thrown off course.

  “What other chalet?”

  “That chef, Danny, wasn’t he going to hike out to some chalet earlier? Before all this started.”

  I nod.

  “He was,” I say. “Chalet Haut Montagne. It’s a big-chain chalet and much more likely to be occupied than the two closer ones, but it’s a trek—a good three or four miles up the valley. That’s why he left it until last.”

  “See?” Carl says triumphantly. “Three or four miles, that’s nothing. You could walk that in a morning.”

  “I wouldn’t call it nothing,” I say cautiously. “For a start, you wouldn’t be walking it, you’d have to snowshoe, and that’s a really different skill. What with the avalanche, not to mention almost a week of uncleared snow… I’d say you’d be looking at a good three hours snowshoeing. Maybe more if you’d never done it.”

  “I reckon it’s a better bet than the resort,” Carl says flatly. “I mean, what’s that, fifteen miles? And steep as fuck. You lose a ski on that boulder field, you’re fucked.”

  “I’m not going to lose a ski,” Topher snarls. “For a start, I’m a boarder, not a skier. Second, I’m halfway competent. And anyway—what happens if we get to the chalet and it’s shut up? We’re back to square fucking one. At least we know the resort has people who can help us. No, I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.”

  His irritation doesn’t rub off on Carl, who just gives a shrug.

  “Maybe it’s not a choice.”

  There’s a long puzzled silence.

  “What are you saying?” Rik asks at last.

  “I’m saying, it’s not an either-or situation. Look, the strong skiers, that’s you, Toph, and Tiger, try to make it to the village and raise the alarm there. The rest of us’ll try for the chalet. Whoever makes it through, we’ll send a party to rescue the other lot.”

  It’s… it’s actually not a bad plan. I can see Topher and Rik looking at each other, thinking it over, coming to the same conclusion. At last Topher nods, like Carl was asking him for permission, though I don’t think he was. We are long past the point where Topher has that kind of authority.

  “Yeah, okay,” he says, a little sulkily, acceding to the inevitable.

  “Miranda?” Rik says, and she gives an unhappy shrug.

  “I—I guess. If you won’t take me with you, it’s better than sitting here.”

  “Liz?” Carl says. “How about it?”

  For a second, Liz just blinks, like she is startled to be referred to by name. For a moment she does nothing at all—like a frightened animal frozen in the headlamp beam of Carl’s attention.

  Then she cracks the tiniest smile and gives a shaky, uncertain nod.

  For the first time in a few days, I feel a flare of hope inside my chest.

  Maybe it will be okay.

  Maybe it will really all be okay.

  LIZ

  Snoop ID: ANON101

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 0

  Snoopscribers: 1

  After so many days reacting to events, it feels good to have a plan. Up in my room I struggle into my faded blue jumpsuit and pull on ski socks and gloves. My helmet and goggles are down in the locker room. I will put those on when we are ready to go outside. One glance out of the window tells me that sunglasses won’t be needed. It’s midday, but almost dark. The sun is barely filtering through the clouds, and the wind is howling like something trying to get in.

  When I am dressed, I feel, for the first time in a couple of days, hot and puffed out. It is strange to feel too warm again, after the growing chill of the chalet. I let myself sink to the bed and catch my breath for a few moments.

  Now that it is almost over, I can look back on the living nightmare of the last few days. How has it come to this. How? Of all the ways I was expecting this week to go, I never imagined this unfolding horror.

  In my mind I tick them off, a macabre school roll call.

  Eva—dead.

  Elliot—dead.

  Inigo—gone, and goodness knows what has happened to him. Did he make it to St. Antoine? Or is he lying frozen with hypothermia in some isolated shack, far from the piste?

  Ani—dead.

  There’s just six of us left. Me, Rik, Miranda, Carl, Tiger, and Topher.

  Topher. It always comes back to him somehow. Because it is true what Miranda said—however much people try to ignore the fact, Topher has a very strong motive for Eva’s death. In fact he has the best motive out of everyone here.

  The thought should make my heart hurt. Topher—who hired me out of a pool of slick, skinny graduates and gave me my first chance. Topher—who stood up for me, stood by me, made sure I got those shares that have hung around my neck like an albatross ever since. Topher—the reason I am here.

  And maybe it’s because of that last one—but my heart doesn’t hurt. I feel nothing—nothing at all.

  Because Topher is the reason I have been dragged into this, into something I never wanted and never asked for. Topher and Eva between them, pushing me, pulling me, manipulating me like a chess piece in their battle for control of Snoop.

  I know what Topher thought when he gave me those shares. He thought that he was handing over two percent of the company to someone he could control. I was his insurance policy, in case Eva and Rik ever ganged up on him. A way to tip the balance in his favor.

  Topher thought I would be like putty in his hands. Soft. Malleable. Pliant. He thought that because of the kind of person he saw—someone meek and quiet, dressed in bad clothes, who never said boo to a goose.

  In Topher’s world, people are hard, polished shells, their shiny exteriors hiding the inadequacies and anxieties inside.

  But Topher made a mistake. He didn’t understand that some people are the other way around. But Eva… I think Eva did understand that. And perhaps it’s what killed her in the end.

  ERIN

  Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 5

  Snoopscribers: 10

  It is one o’clock. Everyone apart from Liz is gathered in the lobby wearing their ski gear. Topher’s party is holding snowboards, skis, and poles. Miranda and Carl are equipped with a pair of snow shoes each. And my heart is thumping. Thumping because… maybe this is it. Maybe this long nightmare is finally over. Surely one group will be successful?

  “What on earth is Liz doing?” Miranda says irritably. She has been on edge ever since Rik told her she couldn’t go with him down to the village. The two-party idea makes sense, and she knows it does, but she would still prefer to be with Rik, and I can see the way her gaze keeps stealing across to him.

  “I’m here,” says a timid voice from the top of the stairs, and we all look up to see Liz standing at the top of the spiral staircase. She is wearing the oversize blue jumpsuit she had on the first day, and is clutching her ski poles in one mittened hand. A bobble hat is balanced on top of her head, and her glasses are misted. She looks hot and sweaty, but, like the rest of us, relieved to be finally doing something.

  She starts down the stairs, and then it happens. Something—a pole? A trailing strap? catches in the banisters, and she stumbles. Her socked feet go out from under her. One hand grabs for the handrail, but the mitten has no grip and the wooden rail simply slides out from under the plasticky fabric.

  As we watch, helpless, Liz tumbles forwards down the spiral staircase with a series of sickening thumps. And then she lands at the bottom, ominously quiet.

  LIZ

  Snoop ID: ANON101

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 0

  Snoopscribers: 1

  I
can’t breathe.

  I lie there, panic pulsing through me, trying to inhale and failing. I can hear myself making little strange gasps, like a fish stranded out of water.

  “Liz!” It is Erin. She comes hobbling over. Her face is white. She crouches beside me. “Liz! Oh God, are you okay?”

  I can’t answer. I can’t get my breath enough to say a word. I make a motion, half nodding, half shaking my head. Am I okay? I am not sure.

  “Fucking hell.” Carl falls to his knees next to me. “Liz?” He turns to the others. “Well, she’s alive at least. Can you speak, Liz?” He says it very loudly, like I am hard of hearing.

  “I think she’s just very badly winded,” Erin says. She strokes my forehead. I resist the urge to pull away. I am not sure if I could, anyway. “It’s okay, don’t fight it. Just try to breathe slowly. I’ll count with you. One, two, three, four, five… and in. And now one, two, three, four, five, and out.”

  With Erin counting, slowly and rhythmically, I manage to take a breath. Then another. At last, shakily, I sit up.

  “Are you okay?” Erin asks again. “Does anything hurt?”

  “My knee,” I manage. I pull up the leg of my jumpsuit, but I had forgotten my leggings underneath. You can’t see anything, but my knee feels hot. When Erin squeezes it gently, a pulse of pain flares up my leg and I flinch.

  “Fucking hell,” Rik says shakily. “I thought for a minute there—”

  He stops. He does not need to spell it out. I know exactly what he thought. I thought it too for a second. For a moment, we were almost five.

  Erin helps me to stand up. I find I am shaking.

  “Can you walk?” Erin asks. I nod and hobble a few steps. Behind me Carl’s face is grim.

  “Well, you can’t manage four miles in snow, can you,” he says. It’s not a question.

  “So we go alone?” Miranda says. Now it is Rik’s turn to look uneasy. I know what he is thinking. Three people should be safe together. But if Carl is the murderer, he is sending Miranda out into the snow alone with a killer.

  “I don’t know—” he says, but Erin cuts in.

  “Danny will go.”

  ERIN

  Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 5

  Snoopscribers: 10

  “Danny will go.”

  The words are out of my mouth before I have time to consider them, but as soon as I’ve said them, I know they make sense. It’s not just about the maths of sending two people out into the snow together. Danny knows the way. Carl and Miranda don’t.

  “What?” The voice comes from behind me, and I turn around to see Danny standing there, looking mightily pissed off with me. “Erin, could we have a word, please?” he says, tightly. “In the kitchen?”

  With a glance at Liz, who is white as a sheet and looks like she might keel over at any second, I follow him, and when the screen door swings shut behind us, Danny lets rip.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? We went over this. I am not leaving you here with a broken ankle and a psycho on the loose.”

  “I didn’t mean just you,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. It feels weird to be articulating our suspicions like this, within earshot of the group. “I meant the three of you should go. It’s obvious—isn’t it? I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before. Carl and Miranda have no idea where they’re going—even with a map, the routes are covered up by the avalanche; it’s more likely than not they’ll end up wandering off into the forest and get lost. You know where the chalet is. You can speak French. And you know how to snowshoe. It makes complete sense. They stand a much better chance of getting there and back if you’re with them. I’d be seriously worried about them setting out alone.”

  “Huh.” Danny looks taken aback at this. He can see the logic in my argument. “So… what, you and that Liz bird stay here by yourselves?”

  “That’s right. I mean, think about it, Danny. She’s not going anywhere with that twisted knee, she’s as lame as I am. And she was never really a realistic prospect for the killer anyway. She can’t ski, we know she was stuck on the bubble lift when Eva actually died, and out of everyone here, she has one of the strongest motives for not wanting Eva dead. I mean, who knows what might have happened to everyone else in a buyout situation—they were probably going to lose their jobs at the very least. But Liz had no job to lose—and she stood to gain several million quid if the deal went through. That’s a pretty strong counterargument.”

  “Yeah… I can see that…,” Danny says slowly.

  “Please,” I say. I put my hand on his arm. “Danny, please. Get Miranda and Carl to that chalet and get word to the police about what’s happening. We can’t afford another death, and I don’t trust Carl and Miranda by themselves.”

  “All right,” Danny says, making up his mind. “You’re probably right. I’ll go and get my gear. But you lock up when we’re gone, and don’t answer the door to anyone except me or the gendarmes. You got that? I don’t care if Topher comes crawling back with a sob story of Rik leaving him in the snow. I don’t care if Tiger snaps a binding. You don’t let them in. Any of them. And fuck knows what happened to Inigo, but I don’t like the idea that he might be prowling around out there in the snow, waiting for everyone else to leave.”

  His words are like an unwelcome splash of cold water in the face. Inigo. We had assumed—I had assumed—that Inigo was out of the picture now. What if he’s not?

  Uneasiness shifts in my belly, but I put my chin up.

  “We’ll be fine. Even if someone does show up—which I doubt—there’s two of us, and one of them. And they’ll be outside in the snow, freezing their tits off.”

  “Yeah, well,” Danny says darkly. “Just you stick to that, okay? I know you. Someone’ll turn up, claim he’s crawled eight miles through the snow with frostbite, and you’ll open the door because you’re soft. Don’t be starting up with the bleeding-heart crap. Put yourself first.”

  I feel a sharp twinge of guilt—even though I haven’t done anything—because Danny’s right. That is exactly the kind of thing I would do. I try to imagine myself sitting in the warm, dry chalet while Inigo, or Topher, or even a complete stranger died slowly outside the front door, begging to be let in, and I just can’t see it happening. I would crack. I would let them in. I know I would.

  “We’ll be fine,” I say again, though my voice is a little bit less convincing, even to myself. “Just go and get back as fast as you can.”

  LIZ

  Snoop ID: ANON101

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 0

  Snoopscribers: 1

  After the others are gone, Erin locks and bolts the front door. She fixes it in place as securely as she can, but it is not perfect. It has been warped by the avalanche so that the bottom lock doesn’t fasten properly and melted snow is leaking through the gap, but the lock at the top works. Then she checks the ski entrance, which is still buried by snow, and the door that used to lead out to the swimming pool.

  “All safe and sound,” she reports as she comes back into the lobby. Her smile is bright and slightly artificial. There is something a little bit oppressive about the silence now. It weighs heavy and feels like it is pressing in on us. “How are you feeling?”

  “Uh—okay, I think.” I rub the back of my head where I hit it on the banister and touch my knee gingerly through the padded salopettes. I wrenched it, but it is not as bad as I feared. Now that the first shock is wearing off, I can put my weight on it. “Still a bit wobbly, but I think it was mostly shock.”

  “What a pair,” Erin says. She grins at me, the scar on her cheek twisting with the movement. “Me with my ankle, you with your knee. Couple of lame ducks.”

  “I know.” I try for a laugh, but it doesn’t sound quite right.

  “I reckon it’ll take Danny’s party about six hours to get to Haut Montagne and back. And who knows about Topher’s lot. I have no idea how badly bashed up the piste is
. If it’s not easily skiable, they could be days.”

  I nod. Clambering through waist-deep snow in ski boots is no joke. I know that.

  “So I think we have at least six hours before we need to start worrying,” Erin says. “The question is, how are we going to kill the time?”

  ERIN

  Snoop ID: LITTLEMY

  Listening to: Offline

  Snoopers: 5

  Snoopscribers: 10

  It’s gone three. After the others left, Liz and I ate a meager lunch of lukewarm tinned soup—the bread was stale, almost inedibly stale, but dipping it in the soup made it soft enough to chew—and we have been playing cards ever since. The chalet is completely, eerily silent. I never realized before how stifling silence could be, perhaps because Perce-Neige is so rarely quiet—it’s always full of the noise of guest footsteps, playing children in the school holidays, the clatter of skis, the sound of Danny in the kitchen. While Topher and the others were here there was the constant jangle of someone playing music, and later the babble of conversation. Even on changeover days, there is the hum of the Hoover and the noise of Danny’s radio.

  Now, there is no music. Our phones are long since dead. The TV and radio sit silent with no electricity to power them. There is no sound at all apart from the crackle of the logs in the burner. Even the patter of snow outside is virtually silent, behind the triple glazing.

  Every few minutes I glance out of the window, checking the weather. It… isn’t great. There’s no point in sugarcoating that. It’s not as bad as it could have been. The wind has dropped at least. But the snow is still falling, and cloud has come rolling down the mountain, enveloping the chalet in a thick, frozen gray blur, so that visibility is down to a few feet. I am profoundly relieved that Danny is with Miranda and Carl, and knows where he’s going. Even so, I’m starting to wonder, in earnest, whether he will be able to make it to Haut Montagne and back again before night falls in earnest. Maybe Liz and I will be stuck here alone overnight. It’s not a completely comfortable thought.