Page 118 of Our Last Resort

He pauses.

“One thing led to another,” he says.

“Is this your polite way of saying you had sex with her?”

“Yes.”

This is a lot to process.

I try to see it from her point of view.

Why does she do it, Sabrina Brenner?

In the story Gabriel just told me, why does she show up at his door, hurried and willful, with a clear plan in mind?

She’s been married to William for two years. He’s a jerk. So much worse than a jerk: He’s violent, coercive, controlling.

But sleeping with Gabriel—that’s something she decides to do for herself. It’s a part of her life that has nothing to do with William.

She does it for control. She does it because it’s something she can do.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“So this whole time, you were…”

The words float between us.

Flirting. Making out. Having sex.

With Sabrina Brenner.

The murder victim.

“I liked her,” he says. “I really did. I didn’t know her that well, but that was okay.”

This whole time, Gabriel kept this secret.

He kept it when Sabrina’s body was found, and he kept it throughout the murder investigation. He kept it when he talked to Harris. He had so many chances to tell me, and he passed up every single one of them.

Something occurs to me.

“Is that why you lied to Harris?”

Gabriel nods.

“I panicked,” he says. “I mean, what are the chances? I sleep with one woman, and she’s found dead?”

He doesn’t need to sayagain.It’s implied.

“So what about her phone?”

Gabriel rubs his forehead.

“After we…were together,” he says, “she asked me for myaddress. I guess she figured that writing to me was safer than texting. William might see texts. He would never see a letter.”

“And yet she wrote down your contact information on her phone.”

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