Page 131 of Our Last Resort

A county official has now confirmed that one person died of injuries suffered in the fire later that night…a twenty-two-year-old female…known within the organization only as Edwina.

Two fingers appeared at the top of the page. Annie folded the piece of paper in half and put it back in her purse.

“I know it sounds nuts,” she said. “Trust me. At first, I thought I was going crazy. I tried to calm down. Then I got angry again. That’s when I called you. But…”

She massaged her temple with the tip of her index finger.

“December 2008,” she said. “That’s when you left, no?”

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t even move.

“And it’s the right…cult, right? Gabriel mentioned a guy named Émile.”

Annie gave me a sad little look.

“I’m sorry, Frida. Did you…did you even know? About the fire?”

I struggled to keep my expression neutral.

“Yes,” I said after a second. “I knew there was a fire. But…”

“And you left soon after that?”

Oh.

Gabriel hadn’t clued her in on the details—or timing—of our escape.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first. Didn’t want to think Gabriel could be…responsible for something like this. But what else is there to think?”

“Well—”

She spared me having to think of what to say next by continuing: “He never wants to talk about that part of his life. And I never know how to ask. He’s so guarded. Guess now I understand why.”

She kept mumbling. Smart Annie. Righteous Annie. She’d taken the information she had and drawn a new picture in her mind: In her version of events, Gabriel had set the fire on his own. Then he’d realized he’d killed Edwina, after which he’d decided to flee and taken me with him.

Annie sighed. “I…I have to tell someone.”

What?

“Don’t you want to talk to him first?”

“I can’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel…safe.”

“But—”

“But what?”

But nothing.She was being perfectly logical. If you suspect someone committed a murder, or a homicide, or whatever, and you just busted them, then they’re the last person you’ll want to tell.

“He’s your husband,” I tried.

Annie considered the ring on her left hand. It was a verysimple band, gold-plated. The only design Gabriel was able to afford, and he’d had to save up. Annie could have bought something fancier using family money, but she’d stuck to this one.

“I know,” she said. “But if he— I mean, that’s game over.”

Of course.

That was how it worked, in Annie’s tidy, clear-cut world. If you did something bad, then you went to prison. If harm was done to you, then you went to the police, and that harm wasacknowledged. There were people who did bad things and people who didn’t. Gabriel fell into the former category, Annie in the latter. And that was that.

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