Page 75 of The Last to Vanish
“I’ve gotta show you something,” he said, still standing at the entrance.
“Can we do this in the morning?” I asked, thinking,Please, walk away. Walk away.
“Can you come out here for just a second?”
Not Harris, who was steps away from me now. Who had access to the inn, who we invited inside, hired for work. Harris, who could’ve cut the lines or disconnected them, just as well as he could’ve repaired them, to have a reason to be up here, keeping an eye on things. The danger, a stain upon this place—something I had let happen, with my silence. And it was here; he was still here.
“Abby,” he called again, and I was afraid he would come inside. That I would be trapped in this room. That there was no way out.
“Be right there!” I called.
Who to call, how to get help, the fastest way here? I texted Rochelle.It was Harris. Please get the sheriff. He’s here.
And then I left my phone on the sill, to ensure that the message went through.
Chances were, no one was coming. Not in time.
I stood, my head swimming, strode past reception, with the walking sticks—useless. I passed the fireplace, with the piles of logs in perfect pyramids. And then I grabbed the iron fire poker, from where it was angled just so, and stepped out into the night.
CHAPTER 23
THERE WERE NO LIGHTSon the path that snaked to the side of the inn, toward the cabins. Everything was extinguished. And as I stepped out into the night, the lobby lights behind me also went out.
We were bathed in darkness.
“The lines are cut.” Harris’s voice came from the side of the inn, and I knew it had been him, since the start. Since he’d heard about Trey’s arrival in town, he’d always had a reason to be up here, keeping an eye on things, finding out what he knew. Discovering, instead, whatIknew.
Shit.All I had was a fire poker and an expanse of time until the sheriff maybe, possibly, showed up.
I imagined Alice, arms gripping the straps of her bag, hearing a step behind her in the woods, recognizing him, her confused smile faltering. Looking around for help, for anyone—
Farrah turning around on the snowy trail—
Landon, opening the door to a knock in the middle of the night—
Run, I wanted to tell them.Run. Faster.
“Abby? You there?”
I thought of Celeste, and her warning—that we were alone up here, and I needed to look after myself first of all. My car was dead. The lines were down. How quickly would Harris hear me if I took off now—toward the town? How quickly until he caught me?
Goose bumps rose across my arms, the back of my neck. The night was too expansive, too unknown.
“Just grabbing a flashlight,” I called tightly before retreating inside. I turned the dead bolt behind me, backed away from the entrance. Behind the thick wooden doors, and the reinforced glass that could stop a bullet. This place that would keep me safe.
I gripped that fire poker and listened hard, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, the shadow of his body passing in front of the tempered glass—but there was nothing. I started thinking maybe I had been wrong about him, about everything—and then I heard them: footsteps, in the distance, a soft thud near the back of the inn.
I spun around. Stared into the darkness of the hall. He was coming up the wooden steps to the deck, with the back entrance to the inn, which would be unlocked—
I started sprinting, racing him for the door, but he was already there, the handle turning, the hinges creaking, and it was all I could do to pivot to the side and hold my employee badge to the red light of the battery-powered lock, slipping inside the dark stairwell, toward the basement.
His shadow passed the door just as I pulled it shut.
“Abby?” he called.
I held my breath, could hear the rapid beating of my own heart echoing in my head. I clutched the poker in one hand and backed down the steps quietly, surrounded by darkness. The dark stairwell, the dark hall.
I thought of the blueprints that had once hung on the wall, with all the entrances and exits labeled clearly, and I moved oninstinct, hand tracing the concrete walls. I knew every inch of this place. This was my home. Five more steps to the bottom.
