Jason’s forearm pressed across his back, pinning him in place. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The stranger didn’t fight back. His breath came in short, uneven bursts.
Up close Olive could see why—his face was pale, hollow beneath the stubble, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. He looked less like a threat and more like someone who’d been surviving rather than living.
Still, Jason wasn’t taking chances. He kicked the man’s feet apart and did a quick, efficient search—pockets, jacket, waistband.
“No weapon,” Jason said, though his tone stayed wary.
Olive’s flashlight beam caught on the man’s hands—cracked, raw, trembling from cold. “You’ve been making the sounds we’ve heard.”
The man nodded, the movement small. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I swear. I was trying to be as quiet as possible.”
Jason turned him back around so they could look him in the eye. “Then why hide?”
He hesitated, licking his chapped lips. “It’s a long story.”
Jason eased back half a step but didn’t lower his guard. “You’re not making a great case for yourself.”
“I can explain,” the man said again, voice rough but steady now. “Just—let me go downstairs with everyone. Please. I’ll tell you everything.”
For a moment, Olive didn’t move. Her instincts screamedtrap. But something about the man’s eyes—clear, haunted—told her he was telling the truth, or at least part of it.
“Fine,” she said at last. “But if you try anything, Jason will make you regret it.”
Jason’s jaw ticked. “Count on it.”
“I won’t,” the man said. “I promise.”
Before they left the space, Olive glanced around. A small coffee pot sat on the floor along with bottles of water and a cooler, where she could only assume food was being kept.
That explained the smell of coffee.
There was another door in the room.
She did a quick calculation. This room was located over Mara and Warren’s suite.
She opened the door. A staircase led downward.
Jason guided the man down the main staircase, his steps slow and unsteady.
Olive turned from the hidden staircase and followed them. She’d check that out later.
Apparently, this inn had a lot of secrets.
Their colleagues stared at them as they came into view.
The man’s hands remained raised. Firelight spilled over him as they reached the bottom, throwing his features into relief—sunken cheeks, mussed hair, eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights.
He looked like a man who had run out of places to hide.
Olive studied him closely. The gauntness. The tremor in his voice.
Something inside her clicked. “You’ve been here the whole time, haven’t you? In that hidden room.”
His throat bobbed. “Yes.”
“Why?” Jason asked, his tone low, dangerous.
