Page 27 of The Last to Vanish
She nodded once, mouth a set line, then seemed to finally notice my attire. “How did it go?” She must’ve seen the note I’d left her this morning about taking a guest on a hike.
“It was fine,” I said. “I just need to shower before running into town for a bit.”
I wasn’t sure why I was keeping the details from Georgia. Whether I was trying to protect her or him. Whether I felt there was something worth hiding.
“I’ve got this.” Georgia stood and took the towels from me, heading for the lobby. “So sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t notice you out here.”
While she was handling the towel situation, I pulled out my phone and placed a call to Harris. He dealt with a variety of the inn’s maintenance issues, as needed, but he specialized in cablesand electricity. Like most people at the inn other than Celeste and Georgia and me, Harris was someone we contracted with, rather than employed. He didn’t live in Cutter’s Pass, but just outside the town perimeter, on a plot of land between jurisdictions that had been in his family for several generations. He hadn’t lived here when I’d first arrived. He moved back about five years ago when he was starting his business, and now he was often the first place I called.
When he didn’t pick up, I left a message. “Harris, it’s Abby at the inn. We’re having some issues with the phone line. Do you have some time to swing by to check it out?”
Georgia was still in conversation with Mrs. Miller when I left the office. I swooped my pack onto one shoulder, lifted my hand as I passed, mouthed a quickThank you, caught a slight smile in response.
I wasn’t paying attention as I descended the steps toward the basement, but as I stood in the fluorescent-lit hall, I immediately felt the presence of someone else: The sound of heavy breathing. Something shuffling nearby.
Georgia was upstairs and Celeste moved with a distinct lightness and no one else was on the schedule to be here. Housekeeping came in the afternoon. The linens had been delivered yesterday.
My heart was pounding as I let the bag slide from my shoulder. I propped it against the wall as quietly as I could.
Keeping my eyes forward, I reached for the bear spray in the side compartment, instead of my knife. It felt more realistic, more useful.
And then a familiar voice came from the nearest storage room. “Someone out there?” His voice was muffled through the closed door.
“Jesus, Cory,” I said, leaving the bear spray where it was.
The door of the storage room swung open, and he steppedout, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. Then he smirked as he looked at the bag and the way I was hovered over it. “What were you doing? Planning your attack?” He leaned forward, nudged the bag with his foot. “What were you going for?”
I crossed my arms. “Bear spray,” I said, and he laughed once, loudly, head thrown back. “What are you doing down here, Cory?”
He shrugged, stepped back inside the storage unit. “Celeste asked for some help.”
Inside, he had a metal dolly, stacked with boxes that had been pulled down from the shelves that lined the cinder-block walls, each marked with Vincent’s name. Behind him, the back wall was lined with boxes—financial documents from years past, in case we were ever audited, old photos and personal items that had been here for thirty years but didn’t fit in any closets in the carriage house, and labeled bags of things left behind by guests. The other shelves held packs of toiletries and new pillows, fresh linens and towels that we had delivered each week. There was one large gray garbage-can-style bin just inside the door—the lost and found bin.
The other storage closet, closer to the exit, held the outdoor furniture, the cleaning supplies, tools, and maintenance gear. But the personal stuff was all in here. The material that kept things moving, kept our history. I watched as Cory moved a few boxes off the top shelf of the far wall, finding another labeledVincent. “You’re taking Vincent’s things?”
He dropped a box onto the dolly with a huff. “She wants to organize the paperwork. Apparently everything is in his name. I don’t ask questions.”
No, no one here did. And that was the problem.
Celeste commanded an unparalleled respect here in Cutter’s Pass, especially from those in the younger generation. It wasn’t just me who had come to see her as a parent-adjacent figure. At some point, many of them had worked here—either officially orunofficially. When I’d first met Rochelle and Jack, it had been at an inn happy hour, just after the winter renovation when I’d arrived. They had been running some supplies up to Celeste as a favor, and she’d invited them to stay. They’d peppered me with questions—Where are you fromandHow long are you stayingandWhat brought you to Cutter’s Pass of all places—and Celeste had stepped into our circle, a hand on my shoulder, and said,This is Abby, Vincent’s niece. She’s going to be helping me here.And that was all that ever needed to be said. People in town knew who I was before I’d even had a chance to meet them. They called me by name when I passed in the street, and I felt a close familiarity to these people I had yet to know deeply.
Cory had his sleeves rolled up, hands on his hips, tattoo on his forearm visible—a swooping vine, sliding back under the edge of his sleeve. Everything about him was ivy and vine, and he could tell the stories marked across his body the same as he could tell the history of this place.
He saw me looking and dropped his arms to his sides. “What have you been doing?” he asked, finally taking me in.
“I took Trey West down to Shallow Falls.”
He stared at me. “And?”
“And now I’m taking him to talk to the sheriff.”
He turned back to the shelves, dropped another box onto the concrete with purpose. “You don’t have to do this, Abby.”
“Yeah well.” I shrugged with one shoulder, even though he wasn’t looking.
“Abby, seriously.” He stopped what he was doing, turned to face me. “We don’t owe him anything.”
“Don’t we?” His brother disappeared on my watch. “He was going to do that hike on his own if I didn’t offer to take him. Would’ve probably kept going through the pass, totally unprepared. Last thing the inn needs is another guest getting lost out there.”
