Page 26 of Our Last Resort

“Don’t you ever wonder,” he said, “what it’s like out there?”

I shrugged.

“I do,” he said. His gaze bounced to the door and back to me. “I don’t want to leave forever or anything like that. I would never.”

I believed him.

“It’s just—I wonder sometimes,” he added, his voice a crackling whisper. “I wish I didn’t. Sometimes I worry that if I don’t—”

He stopped.

Something inhabited my brother.

Something I couldn’t rescue him from.

“We can’t,” I told him. “I can’t.”

We had been in each other’s lives for five years. I saw his pain, felt his restlessness.

I saw it all, and I chose myself over him.

For a time.

10Escalante, Utah

The Fifth Day

Guests head back to the dining room in a slow march.

“What the fuck,” one of the influencers mutters.

Gabriel and I stand there.

He’s got to be picturing it, too. The Miranda warnings, the handcuffs, the charges. It’s exactly what almost happened to him nine years ago.

“Hey.”

Gabriel has snapped out of his trance. He’s nudging me. I follow him back to our table. There’s adrenaline in the air, an uneasy mix of excitement and relief.

Catalina walks across the dining room and stands in view of the tables. She clears her throat.

“Good morning,” she starts hesitantly. “On behalf of everyone at the Ara, I wanted to say that we appreciate your cooperation. Of course, we understand that these are…unique circumstances.”

She gives the crowd a pained smile.

“I wanted to let you know that we are…open. As usual. That includes our spa and the swimming pool. Guest services are operating, so please let us know if you’d like to book a guided hike, or if you need help figuring out the trails.”

She winces slightly.

“So, that’s it,” she says, clasping her hands. “That’s the update. We’re available if you have questions.”

Catalina waits a beat, then flees back to the lobby.

Well. That was quick.

I’ve heard of this happening. Murder suspects arrested within hours of a kill. Damning crime scenes, veritable buffets of hard evidence. Or: Cops acting on a hunch, counting on the arrest to triggersomething—a confession, a signed search warrant from a judge, maybe both. It’s a risk, of course. But sometimes, it paysoff.

Other people might have spoken, too. Guests who noticed the same things I did—the tension between the Brenners, his mood like piano wire strung too tight. Maybe someone else overheard last night’s argument, after all. I got to Harris as fast as I could this morning, but one or two guests could have beat me to it, while I was talking to Gabriel in our suite.

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