Olive’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We checked everything.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “Then where did that noise come from?”
They both turned slowly, scanning the upper landing again.
The beam of Olive’s flashlight brushed across framed photos and a row of hooks holding extra coats.
Nothing moved.
Jason gestured toward the end of the hall. “Could be the roof shifting under the weight of the snow.”
“Could be.” But even as she said the words, Olive didn’t believe them.
The sound had been sharp and heavy, like a single step on old wood.
They crept back upstairs, their flashlights slicing through the dark. The air felt colder now, tighter, as if the house held its breath.
They moved down the hallway again, checking each room.
Doors still closed. Still silent.
At the last door, Jason paused. “Maybe we missed something.”
Olive’s beam swept across the room.
Everything was as they’d left it: bed undisturbed, curtains drawn tight, nothing out of place.
Her pulse quickened. “If we missed something, then what?”
Jason didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
They both knew the truth: something—or someone—was still inside this inn.
Watching.
Waiting.
A chill ran up her spine at the thought.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The great roomfell silent when Olive and Jason stepped back in.
Everyone looked up—Rex from his place near the fire, Tevin hunched over his laptop, Trick from where he leaned against the wall, and Mitzi and Nova from the couch, where they were seated side by side. Mara and Warren sat in two armchairs near the kitchen, an oversized checker set on an old wooden barrel between them.
Jason spoke first. “We checked every room. Nothing seemed out of place, except one of the downstairs windows was slightly open.”
Trick’s brows shot up. “Open? As in someone climbed in through it?”
“Possibly,” Olive said. “Or they could’ve opened it to make us think that. Or someone could have escaped that way. The wind has picked up—any footprints that may have been left are gone.”
Jason continued, “The only spaces we didn’t check were Mara and Warren’s personal suite—and the basement.”
At that, Mara and Warren exchanged a glance. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but Olive caught it.
Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe the two were simply silently communicating about how to handle the statement.
