Page 63 of The Last to Vanish
Even from across the room, the framed picture stood out. It had been secured behind a plastic covering, inside a wooden frame that had been screwed into the paneled wall just below the upper bar shelves. It wasn’t a large shot—maybe a five by seven—andthere were four people in the frame, so it didn’t show a lot of details. I’d seen it myself, before I’d arrived—on the news programs after Alice Kelly had gone missing. But standing in front of it, the details came to life; the colors appeared more vivid, the people alive. I understood why people stopped to see it in person. Like Celeste said, there was no match for reality.
What this photo provided was afeeling. These four young men had been happy and carefree, and this was the last image of them. Brian, on the far right, was caught midlaugh with his eyes closed, no idea of what was coming for them. The two in the center: Toby and Jerome, were looking over at Brian, instead of the photographer, with expressions of bemusement. Only Neil was facing the camera head-on. It seemed like he was reaching out toward the camera—I could imagine an arm just below the frame, stretching forward—and his mouth was frozen partly open, like he was starting to say something.
Here, they could always be twenty-four and twenty-five. Immortalized. Here, they could still be anywhere, and you could imagine their entire lives stretched out before them.
If they had lived, they would be fifty, or turning fifty. They would be celebrating with family, or maybe with one another still. Sitting in front of them, it was so easy to imagine.
There wasn’t a lot of clarity in the picture, partly because of the size, and partly because of the smudging of fingerprints across the plastic layer over top, from visitors coming to pay their respects, sneaking behind the bar, offering up a toast.
Now I dragged a stool around to the other side of the bar, legs screeching against the treated concrete flooring, and climbed up. I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe off the prints as best I could—the closest I had ever been to them.
I could feel them, too. It was as if they were just here, had just been planning their trip. As if I would be able to turn around andsee them at a table, watch the good-natured pats on each other’s backs, hear the gentle ribbing, the order ofone more roundbefore heading out.
Brian had that hat on, with the symbol of his old fraternity. Toby wore one, too, but it was on backward, his blond hair escaping out the sides, a breeze I could almost feel. Jerome’s muscled arm was slung around Toby’s shoulder, the green of his shirt blending perfectly into the background. Neil had sunglasses on, contoured to his head, the type used more for skiing, with reflective lenses, tinted slightly blue.
I leaned closer.A fifth person, that’s what Landon had believed. He’d been asking around aboutwho took that picture, and now I couldn’t get that question out of my head.
Who was there, on the other side of the disposable camera? Who was Neil reaching for? Who was Brian joking with? There was no one in the background, nothing behind them but the rise of the mountain, where they’d soon disappear.
I tried to imagine someone else, just out of frame. But there was nothing to indicate it. Only the person taking the shot.
I could almost feel them, gesturing for everyone to get closer, counting down, snapping the button a second too soon, before everyone was ready.
There were no storefront windows that offered a reflection. There were only Neil’s sunglasses, but everything was too small, and I had no idea where any original film would be. I did the only thing I could, and took a picture of Neil, close-up, with my own phone—hoping I could see things better on the screen, by changing the lighting or enlarging the frame.
I hopped off the stool, pulled up the photo, zoomed in on Neil’s face. God, he was so young. Younger than me, right now.
The corner of his glasses reflected the setting sun, and my stomach sank because I knew it was too late. Too late for any ofthem to be heading out, just as they had been warned. Too late for any of them at all. I knew they were not alive. That theory didn’t hold. Despite the rumors of a cult, or of the people who didn’t want to be found, they were just four twentysomething young men, who took a quick trip, left their lives behind. They were not planning some grand escape. They’d left too much behind. Too much unresolved. They were dead. I knew this now.
I zoomed in closer, on the other lens, without the glare. There was nothing but a small blur of white at the bottom of the lens. Like webbing. No, not webbing. As I focused, it looked more like a crack, spreading.
I brought the phone closer to my face. So close, I felt I could reach out and touch his face. The blue of the lens, the white of the crack—
A noise escaped my throat, alone, in this empty room. A logo. That’s what it was. White on navy blue. And I knew exactly what it was: a tree, bare branches stretching into the sky. Like they were reaching for something.
It was the logo for the Passage Inn.
My home, the place where I’d lived, for ten years. Someone wearing that shirt, or holding an umbrella, or in possession of something with that logo was on the other side of the camera. Someone who might’ve known what happened to them. Who might’ve beenthe fifth member—
The sound of a key sliding into a lock jarred me. I stood straight, shoulders tense, phone still in my hand—only to see Rochelle pushing open the main entrance to the tavern, in dark jeans and a green tank top.
She paused just inside the door, rocked back slightly on her gold sandals. “Well, hello there,” she said.
“I was just…” I said, my voice wavering. But I couldn’t come up with a good excuse, not with that image in my mind. I wasdoing what an outsider would do, sneaking around, trying to figure out something left unsolved for so long, as if I could be the one to uncover the truth.
“Yes,” she said, faintly amused, “I can see that. So can everyone else. We just got a call at the sheriff’s office aboutsomeone inside the Last Stop, snooping around.” She gestured to the glass windows behind her.
“So you came to check it out?” I asked.
“Sure, no point wasting resources. Everyone’s busy.”
As if she were a member of the department herself. As if she decided what calls to pass along and what to check out on her own. “You have a key here?” I asked.
She started walking across the room. “We have a spare key to practically everywhere. The store owners all prefer it that way, so we can check on any issues without waiting for them to arrive.” Of course they did. They all trusted one another here. But only one another. “Though I see you found a way in, too.”
I held up the key from the back lockbox, placed it on the counter like an offering. Hoping she let me go, kept this to herself. Not a big deal,nothing to see here.
But she came closer, not letting me off so easily.
