I study him, hating myself for suspecting him. “Clever how they separated us from our bags by making us traipse all around. If we’d known to go to the function room, we might have taken them with us.”

“Yeah, I know.”

His face reveals nothing.

“So talk me through it,” I say. “Who came in next?”

“Dale and Heather. Heather was yapping away on her phone and she was well pissed off she had to leave it at the door. Curtis wasn’t going to put his phone in the basket but Heather gave him a hard time about it. If you’re keeping yours, I’m keeping mine.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Brent calls.

Curtis appears in the doorway. Hope he didn’t hear us talking about him.

“Seen Milla?” he says. “Oh.”

He’s seen me. Damn. Now he thinks there’s something going on between me and Brent. A flashback hits me. He did the exact same thing ten years ago when we spent the night up here, ducking his head into Brent’s room in the morning, to ask if he knew where I was.

He looks back at me now, just as expressionless as he was then. I want to tell him that this time it’s not how it seems.

“I forgot to say earlier,” Curtis says. “Lock your door tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Night,” Brent calls.

Curtis shuts the door. Crap. He thinks I’m spending the night in here.

I force my mind back to the issue at hand. “What if it’s not one of us who set it up? Who else could it be?”

Brent turns thoughtful. “Remember that Julien guy?”

“Julien Marre.” That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.

Julien was the main suspect in Saskia’s disappearance, incriminated by his own graffiti. He was taken in for questioning and later released. Proved he was in a neighboring resort that day, apparently.

“But why would he do this?” I say.

“He was obsessed with her, wasn’t he?”

I study him closely. “You’re saying he thinks one of us killed her, so he’s brought us here to . . . what, avenge her death? Odd that he waited a whole decade to do it.”

“But he was odd, wasn’t he? I heard you thumped him, by the way.”

“Who told you that?”

Brent drags his fingers through his wet hair. “Can’t remember. Dale, I think.”

“How did he know? The only other person who was there was Saskia.”

Brent shrugs.

“Yeah, I thumped him. The dickhead.” God, I sound just like Saskia.

“Did he hit you back?”

“No. He was on the ground. I hit him pretty hard.”

A short laugh from Brent.