“Uh . . .” Curtis glances over his shoulder at me.

I pull the duvet to my chin. “It’s okay. Open the door.”

Curtis sweeps the door wide. Brent jolts when he sees me there. I’ve hurt him all over again.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Curtis says.

“Me neither,” I say.

Brent hovers in the doorway, clearly uncomfortable. “It was like a door shutting. And Heather’s not in her room either.”

Curtis and I exchange looks. My heart starts pounding again. Straight out of one drama and into another.

“Come in,” Curtis says.

Brent shuffles in and I smell brandy fumes. Has he drunk the whole bottle? Smells like it.

Curtis locks the door behind him and pulls a hoodie over his head. “Want to get some clothes on, Milla?” He tosses me my thermal top and two of his sweaters.

“Should I go out so you can change?” Brent says stiffly.

“No,” I say. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, and both guys must be thinking that, though I’m grateful neither of them points it out.

My bad knee has stiffened up. I hoist my leg carefully to the ground. Brent turns his back as I dress. Curtis’s clothes are huge on me but at least they’re warm.

“You can look now,” I say.

Brent rakes a hand through his hair. “So what do we do?”

Curtis looks guarded. “I guess we search for Heather.”

Brent nods.

I notice how easily he’s prepared to follow Curtis’s lead now. Brent’s scared.

And that scares me. A lot.

“Should we have weapons or something?” Brent says.

I suck in my breath.

Curtis pauses a beat. “What sort of weapons are you thinking?”

I catch the way Curtis is looking at him. It’s a test to see how quickly he responds. If he has already armed himself.

“Plenty of sticks and spades outside,” Brent says.

And ice axes.

Brent’s dark eyes meet mine. “And ice axes.”

God. I picture a shadowy figure standing behind one of the many closed doors, ice axe raised and ready.

I open my mouth to tell them the one in the restaurant is missing. But Brent’s still looking at me. Did he take the axe? Or the knives? My judgment is shot, but if he took them, it’s better if he thinks we don’t realize.

“Got anything in your room?” Curtis says.

“My screwdriver,” Brent says.

“Go get it.”

Brent disappears.

The instant the door shuts, Curtis leans in close. “Do you trust him?”

I hesitate. I know every inch of Brent’s body, but do I really know him? Now, ten years on? I can’t forget that look in his eyes last night. “Do you?”

“I’m not sure.” Curtis rummages through his backpack.

“You know that ancient ice axe on the wall downstairs?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s gone.”

Curtis’s head jerks up. “Since when?”