Page 26 of The Last to Vanish
“There’s nothing in this flash drive, either.” He took it from the outer pocket of his pants, had carried it with him to the falls. Like he believed in the danger in leaving it behind, just as Landon must have.
I pressed my lips together, agreeing. Nothing that would get him any closer to finding his brother, at least.
“I’m going to bring it to the sheriff,” he said.
I remembered what Marina said, about Trey being here for a reason. “I can set it up for you,” I said.Just being helpful. Just an extension of my job.I started walking toward the parking lot, where I could get the best signal.
“Abby,” he called until I stopped walking, turned back. “He was afraid. You can feel it, right?”
The flash drive hidden in the bedpost. The lies he told at the inn—I’m working on a book—to keep this place from knowing what he was looking for.
I sensed it in myself, something steadily building.
“Yes,” I told Trey honestly. “I can feel it.”
CHAPTER 9
ICALLED ROCHELLE AT THEsheriff’s office as soon as my phone registered a bar of signal, standing at the intersection of the gravel path and our parking lot. We weren’t exactly friends, but I had her number in my phone as a necessity by nature of our jobs. So the sheriff could reach the inn; so the inn could reach them.
I listened to the phone ringing as Trey sat on a log at the perimeter of the parking lot, walking stick resting beside him, unlacing his boots, pulling them off carefully. He winced, and I looked away. Blisters that would take days to heal, I was sure.
Rochelle didn’t pick up, but instead of leaving a message, I sent a text:Landon West’s brother would like an appt to see the sheriff today
Almost immediately, I could see she was responding. Rochelle was an excellent multitasker, had worked at the sheriff’s office since she was a high school intern in the summers, and now no one was sure if the place could run without her. I pictured her with the office phone tucked to her shoulder on some other call while she pulled up his calendar on the computer to respond to me.
“You can get service out here?” Trey asked, pulling out his own cell to check.
“This is the best spot,” I said.
My phone dinged with a text from Rochelle:Can he be here in an hour?
Yes, thanks. I responded without asking. “One hour,” I said. I checked my watch again, knowing I’d be pushing things with the start of my shift. “How about I take you? The parking situation will be ridiculous right now.” It was high season, and it was a beautiful day, and the streets would be packed with people we didn’t know, pouring in on foot and by car, walking from shop to shop or mingling on the town green, taking photos in the middle of the road, in the spot with the best view of the mountain in the distance, framed in the background as the road curved up toward the inn.
“Yeah, okay, thanks,” he said. “Just give me a chance to clean up first?” He handed me his walking stick as he stood barefoot in the gravel lot. Now I was the one to wince.
“I’ll meet you out here in forty-five,” I said as he turned away, walking tentatively across the lot, heavy on his heels.
WHEN I ENTERED THElobby, there was a woman standing next to the fireplace, checking her watch. Midthirties, blond hair in two thick French braids, a line of piercings up her left ear. Mountain View Two. The Millers.
Georgia was nowhere to be seen.
I dropped the two walking sticks into the bin. “Hi, can I help you with something, Mrs. Miller?” I asked, hoping she recognized me from check-in, even though I was in hiking gear and sweating and carrying a pack.
She looked up, face relaxing. “Yes, thanks. We were trying to get some extra towels upstairs, but the line was busy. Thought it would be quicker to come down here myself.” From the expression on her face, it was clear that it had not been quicker.
“Let me get that for you,” I said, sliding my backpack against the wall, unzipping the pouch where I stored my master set of keys. But they were unnecessary—the door to the back office was unlocked, and Georgia was situated at the table, pen in hand, a pile of receipts to the side and a list of names in front of her.
“Oh my god, you scared me,” she said, hand to heart. She looked at the clock hanging on the wall and started stacking the receipts together.
“Mountain View Two is out there, looking for towels.”
She craned her long neck toward the door. “Shit, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
I grabbed two towels from the supply we kept here in the storage cabinets, just in case of situations like this. “I need you to cover another hour. Sorry,” I added, since we were throwing apologies around.
“Oh, I—” Her eyes skimmed the room, like she was searching for an excuse.
“Please,” I added, which was something I rarely had to ask her.
