Page 77 of The Last to Vanish
“Home.” A chill ran through my entire body, imagining the land I’d stood on. His wife and daughter, playing out there. “Then I brought the truck back and kept going. I don’t know, I just kept going. And nothing happened. Cory said he saw her at the tavern. So did others. And it was like, it hadn’t even happened. Like maybe I’d dreamed the whole thing. A terrible nightmare, an alternate existence. And we could all pretend she was still out there somewhere. It’s better that way, Abby. No one even asked me one question.”
“Until Farrah.” I stepped back again, knowing, for sure, what he had done. Knowing I had toget away.
“Yeah.” A pause—he was so close, and I was out of space. Did he know where we stood? How he had me cornered, with only one place to go now? One palm on the handle—?“She saw me in Springwood. I was with myfamily. They were checking out after a doctor’s appointment and I was waiting outside, and she walked right by me. I didn’t recognize her. Not until she called my name. Even then, took me a second. Around here, James is my grandfather. Only people from college called me James. Seven years, such a long time.”Run, I wanted to tell her now.
Go.
It was time. There was no other choice. I pushed my body against the door and turned to run. The cool night air, the crunch of grass under my shoes—and Harris, a step behind, lunging in a flash, hand around my arm, pulling me back against the rough exterior of the inn.
“Where are you going?” he asked. The poker in my other arm; time stretching; everything in a balance. God, he was faster than I thought.Alice. Farrah.
I was shaking, the adrenaline with no place left to go. Trapped, again. “I need air,” I said, breathing heavy. “I just needed air.” And the airdidhelp. The stars were overhead, sharp and clear, andthe universe felt so close, and alive. I could see the shadow of the mountain ahead. The shadow of the cabins, to my left. And there, beside me, the shadow of a man.
“Farrah remembered you, though?” I was Celeste, in over my head. I was my father, trying to defuse the tension.
I felt his grip relax, his hand drop from my arm, and I held my breath until he continued. “Yeah. Said she thought of me often. And Alice. Especially now, she said—we were so close to where it had happened, and what a coincidence, running into me here, too. And then Samantha came out with the baby, and I had to introduce them. Mywife,” he said, “is too friendly. Said she should come to see my photos at home if she was heading toward Cutter’s Pass.” He sighed. “I could see everything change in Farrah. She said,Wait, you live there?And it was my wife who said,I know, trust me, I know. But his family has been here for generations. So we can’t leave.”
“Your wife had seen Farrah, too?” I asked. I pictured her telling me about the disappearances, asking,What do you make of it?Asking something more. Asking if her imagination had gotten the best of her. I started inching away again. Those woods—people could disappear in there.Icould disappear in there.
“You should know better than anyone, it’s best not to say anything here. Everything is so fucking tangled together.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Abby?” and I knew he could see the shadow of me shifting away, just as well as I could see him. A shape, coming closer.
“I do know,” I said. “I know that.” Look where I was right now. Look what I had brought to the doorstep of my home.
“I told Farrah, Itoldher,” he said, like it was her fault, instead of his. “I said I was on that hiking trip. I had an alibi.”
But she was digging. Like she owed it to Alice, all this time later. Like she was the only one who realized it.
“You followed her.” Just like now, as I tried to maneuver away. But every step I took, he followed.
“Once I saw what she was doing, where she was going… I just tried to talk to her before she started talking to the wrong person.”
But shehadtalked to me. I’d told Celeste. And we’d donenothing. He’d been able to bury all he had done, with our silence.
“She just… wouldn’t stop.” His hand was on my shoulder now, a weight, holding me here. Holding me to him. “I didn’t mean for her to get hurt. I just didn’t know what to do.” Even though he seemed in very sound mind after. Even though I knew he had taken the pictures on her camera. Had left it out there for us to find one day. So we’d think she was lost to the woods, too.
I could feel him, deciding. Weighing the risk. His van, the dark. The people around. The trail I might’ve left. I couldn’t get away. Couldn’t get a big enough lead.
I knew what to do. Hit him, catch him off guard, give myself a chance.Run.The trail? The street? To Celeste, screaming for someone to hear me? His breath was too close, and suddenly I was Alice, trying to escape, tripping, footsteps coming closer. I was Farrah, in the snow, eyes wide, trapped.
“Okay, it was an accident,” I said, a chill rolling through me. “But the camera,” I said. “It got to Landon West. I found his journal. He had all our names in it, and a bunch of phone numbers.Yourname was in it. I know he called you. The last time I saw him, he told me the phone in his cabin wasn’t working. And I heard a recording, from that night, his last night, someone was at the door—”
“God, I didn’twantto, Abby. I didn’t want to hurt anyone! But he kept digging. He called my house, and I just had to find out what he knew, I have a daughter now, I have to protect her. I’d doanything—”
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep him off balance. I could feel thetension in his voice and he was growing more agitated and it had to benow—
A flashlight turned on, to our left, a third person. A man’s shadow. My heart leaped, thinking it was the sheriff. But instead, Trey West stood there, holding his cell phone in front of him, the only light we had. “No, it’s notokay. What the fuck did you do to my brother.”
Escalating everything.
“What the hell,” Harris said, arm up to block the light, his shadow thrown onto the stone wall behind him. The light catching off a glint of metal in his hand—a gun. Something that must’ve been there all along. Hanging between us, in every word. Always a possibility.Bam.
I could see how it had happened. The knock on the cabin door.Here to take a look at your phone lines, can I come in?Looking around the room.Can I get your help with something from the van?Pulling the gun, getting him inside, and then it was too late, it was always too late.
“Shit,” Trey said, the beam of light sliding away, onto me. My eyes wide with panic, the fire poker held out in my grip, for protection.
Exposed.
“Hold on,” I said.
