At first, only the people sitting in the back noticed me.

A woman turned.

Then the man beside her turned.

Someone stood up.

Brandon kept speaking.

Then Gretchen saw me.

Her mouth opened.

She didn’t make a sound.

Brandon followed her stare.

He stopped in the middle of a sentence.

The chapel became completely quiet.

I walked down the aisle.

My leg hurt with every step.

Brandon gripped the sides of the lectern.

“Victoria?”

I stopped about fifteen feet from him.

“Hi, Brandon.”

Someone behind me began crying.

Brandon came around the lectern.

“Oh my God.”

He took two steps toward me.

An officer moved into the aisle.

Brandon stopped.

“You’re alive.”

I looked at him.

“Yes.”

He glanced around the chapel.

Then at Gretchen.

It happened quickly, but I saw it.

Not relief.

Calculation.

“Victoria, I tried to find you.”

I didn’t answer.

“I looked everywhere.”

“You left.”

His face tightened.

“The storm was getting worse.”

“You left with Gretchen.”

People turned toward her.

Gretchen stood.

“I came to help search.”

I looked at her.

“You came to help search?”

“Yes.”

Brandon moved closer to her.

“Victoria has been through something traumatic. She fell. She’s confused.”

That was the first time anyone in the room reacted against him.

A low murmur moved through the pews.

I reached into my backpack.

Brandon watched my hand.

I took out the tablet Mark had given me.

“I didn’t fall.”

“Victoria.”

“You pushed me.”

His face changed.

“That’s not true.”

“Okay.”

I handed the tablet to Mark.

He connected it to the chapel’s small presentation system.

Brandon looked toward the doors.

Two officers were already standing there.

The screen behind the lectern lit up.

Brandon’s SUV appeared.

Gretchen sat in the passenger seat.

Her recorded voice filled the chapel.

“You pushed too hard.”

Nobody moved.

Then Brandon’s voice.

“It worked.”

Gretchen’s face went white.

On the recording, she asked about the insurance.

Brandon answered.

“Once she’s declared dead, we file.”

Then came the number.

Fifty million.

Then Gretchen asked about their agreement.

And Brandon promised they would split it.

The recording stopped.

For several seconds, the only sound in the chapel was the ventilation system.

Brandon looked at me.

Then at Mark.

Then at the screen.

“That’s taken out of context.”

Mark stepped forward.

“Brandon Prescott, don’t say anything else.”

Gretchen moved away from Brandon.

He turned toward her.

“Don’t.”

She stared at him.

“You told me she was dead.”

“Gretchen.”

“You said there was no way she survived.”

“Stop talking.”

She pointed at him.

Her hand was shaking.

“He pushed her. I didn’t touch her.”

Brandon stared at her.

“Are you serious?”

“You pushed her.”

“You knew the plan.”

One of the officers took Brandon by the arm.

Another moved toward Gretchen.

Neither of them looked calm anymore.

Brandon pulled once against the officer’s grip.

“Victoria, listen to me.”

I stayed where I was.

“This isn’t what you think.”

I looked at the screen behind him.

His own face was frozen there.

“I heard you on the mountain.”

He stopped talking.

The officer turned him toward the aisle.

There Was One Person He Hadn’t Seen

Brandon made it halfway down the aisle before he noticed the portable bassinet.

The nurse had brought Liam to the chapel doorway.

I hadn’t planned that exact moment.

But when I saw my son there, I walked toward him.

Brandon stopped.

The officer told him to keep moving.

He didn’t.

He stared at the bassinet.

“What is that?”

Nobody answered.

I reached the doorway and folded back the blanket.

Liam was asleep.

One fist was tucked beside his cheek.

Brandon’s face lost whatever color it had left.

“No.”

I adjusted Liam’s blanket.

Brandon stared at him.

“The baby?”

I looked up.

“His name is Liam.”

His mouth moved, but nothing came out.

Gretchen was standing several feet behind him with another officer.

She looked at Liam once and turned away.

Brandon didn’t.

“Victoria.”

I picked up the bassinet.

“He’s healthy.”

“Victoria, please.”

I didn’t know what he wanted me to do with that word.

Forgive him?

Explain?

Pretend the recording hadn’t played in front of a room full of people?

I shifted the bassinet carefully against my hip.

Brandon looked at the red backpack on my shoulder.

I saw his eyes settle on the torn strap.

Maybe he remembered adjusting it for me that morning.

Maybe he remembered watching it disappear over the edge with me.

The officer guided him toward the chapel doors.

This time Brandon moved.

He and Gretchen were taken into custody that afternoon as investigators continued building the case around the attack and the insurance scheme.

I didn’t stay to watch them leave.

There wasn’t anything else I needed from Brandon.

The Strap Stayed Red

A week later, Liam and I went home.

Not to the house Brandon and I had shared.

My sister had a guest room ready for us outside Bozeman.

She had put a crib beside the window and stocked the dresser with diapers.

On our first morning there, I unpacked the red backpack.

Inside were my cracked phone, two granola bars, an empty water bottle, and a pair of gloves.

Ordinary things.

I almost threw the backpack away.

Instead, I sat on the floor and ran my thumb over the black stitches holding the damaged strap together.

Liam started fussing in his crib.

I put the backpack in the closet and went to him.

He stopped crying when I picked him up.

For several minutes, I stood beside the window with him against my chest.

Outside, there was fresh snow on the lawn.

Nothing like the mountain.

Just a thin white layer over the grass, already melting in the morning sun.

Liam opened his eyes.

I touched the little crease between his eyebrows.

“We’re okay.”

This time, I didn’t need him to move to prove it.

Behind me, the repaired red strap hung quietly inside the open closet, and for once, I didn’t need to keep it visible so someone could find us.