Page 7 of Colton's Last Resort

“I don’t know,” Laura said. Joshua didn’t stop. He hit the glass doors. They swung open. She followed him out into the mountain air. Her heart was in her throat as they raced to the pool area.

The drapes on the farthest cabana were still closed. The pool maintenance person, Manuel, stood outside with his hat in his hands. Their head of security, Roland, stepped out, expression drawn.

“How is she?” Joshua asked. “Did Knox bring her around?”

Roland shook his head.

Laura fumbled for speech. “What?”

Joshua swept the curtain aside.

Laura moved to follow him, but Manuel brought her up short. “I don’t think you should go in there, Ms. Colton.”

She shook her head. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

Roland took a breath. “I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t think she’ll be coming back around.”

Laura couldn’t wrap her head around the words. She slipped past Manuel and Roland, ducking through the parting of the drapes. Her footsteps faltered when she saw Joshua and Knox Burnett, the horseback adventure guide, leaning over the still, white face of the woman lying supine on the outdoor rug. Neither of them moved. “Why did you stop?” she asked Knox. “Why aren’t you helping her?”

“Laura...” Joshua mumbled. “You need to go.”

She crouched next to him. Her hand lifted to her mouth when she saw the tint of Allison’s lips.

Knox’s face was bowed in an uncharacteristic frown.

Even as she denied what she was seeing, she looked at him. “Why did you stop?” she asked again.

He was panting, his long hair mussed. His face inordinately pale, he said, “She’s cold. So cold. I couldn’t get a pulse. She never had a pulse...”

Laura looked down at Allison’s face. Her dark eyes stared, unseeing. “Oh, God,” she said with a shaky exhalation.

Joshua’s fingers closed over hers. He spoke in a whisper, as if afraid Allison would hear. “She’s gone.”

Chapter 2

Laura frowned at the water glass on the table in front of her. She wished for her thermos. Hell, she wished this interview could take place at L Bar. The bartender, Valerie, knew Laura’s drink of choice.

Allison, she thought.Oh, God. Allison...

Detective Mark Fulton of the Sedona Police Department sat across the table. He hadn’t allowed either of her brothers to join her. They had each been questioned separately, as had Bella, Knox, Tallulah, Manuel and Roland.

“I understand you were the one who initially hired the deceased,” Fulton commented.

She studied the small corona on top of his shiny, hairless head, a reflection from the wide chandelier above them. Forcing herself to look away, she traced the pattern of his tie with her gaze—circles overlapping circles in various shades of blue, each edged with a thin gold iris. “Allison,” she said. She swallowed. She hadn’t let herself cry.

Not yet. She’d been surrounded by people—her brothers, the staff, the guests—since the discovery of Allison’s body.

Her voice split as if the strain of not crying had injured her vocal cords.

“Sorry?” Fulton said, looking up from his notepad distractedly.

“Her name is Allison,” she told him. He needed to stop calling herthe deceased. It sounded discordant, inhumane.

“Of course,” he allowed. He spared her a brief smile. “You hired Allison. Ms. Brewer. Is that correct?”

“I did,” Laura answered. “Two years ago last September.”

“And when did you see her last?” he asked.

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