Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
O live drew in a long, deep breath as she tried to get her thoughts under control.
Thunder still clapped overhead, seeming to shake the whole house. Lightning continued to flash, cracking the sky as rain pounded on the roof overhead.
Had Daphne done this? Had she been the one who locked Olive up here?
Or . . . what if the person who’d done this had climbed inside the attic first? What if this person hid in the shadows now, waiting for the opportunity to strike?
She repressed a shudder.
She had to stop thinking like this. Thoughts like this would only handicap her. Plus, someone couldn’t have climbed in the attic and then locked the door.
Think, Olive. Think. You’re not helpless right now.
She stood up straighter. She wasn’t stuck up here, she realized. She could call for help. Why hadn’t she already thought of this?
She grabbed the phone from her pocket and hit the screen.
To her dismay, nothing happened. Her stomach sank.
“Oh, come on . . .” She hit the screen again.
Again, nothing.
Her phone had died.
Of course .
She let out a groan. Could the timing be any worse? The lack of cell phone towers in this area drained the battery more quickly than usual.
Why hadn’t Olive told anyone she was coming up here? Probably because she hadn’t thought she’d be stuck in this space.
At least the lights still worked.
As if reading her thoughts, both of the bulbs she’d switched on overhead flickered.
Olive closed her eyes, hoping she hadn’t just jinxed herself.
The flickering stopped, and the pale-yellow lights still scattered dim illumination throughout the room.
Olive wasn’t sure, however, how long that would be the case. If those bulbs burned out, she’d be plunged into total darkness. She wasn’t normally afraid of the dark, but the thought of being trapped up here left her feeling surprisingly unsettled right now.
She stood, paced toward the window, and shoved it open. As soon as she did, rain poured inside. She quickly thrust it down.
In other circumstances, she might climb onto the roof. But it was too slick outside. Staying in the attic was safer than trying to escape on the roof.
The storm would also keep anyone from being outside, so she wouldn’t be able to call for help that way.
Letting out a sigh, Olive turned and glanced around one more time, making sure there was nothing she’d missed. She shivered and rubbed her arms, wishing she’d worn something more than jeans and a sweatshirt.
She’d initially assumed there would probably be more than one way in and out of this attic. The space was so large, how could there not be?
She might as well look around, she supposed.
A shiver captured her as she started toward the opposite end of the house. She tugged on overhead bulbs as she came across them, thankful for the light.
She hadn’t noticed the cold when she’d first come up here. But now it was getting late, and the temperature outside was dropping. The chill in the air had grown more frigid.
If Olive looked hard enough, she could probably find some old blankets or coats if she got desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to resort to that.
She continued walking, glancing at the floor and searching for another entry.
She finally found another one. But when she pushed on the door, this one didn’t budge either.
“Go figure,” she whispered.
She kept walking, not ready to give up yet. She was a highly trained agent. She wasn’t going to let an old attic get the best of her. She’d been in far stickier situations before.
The floor creaked with each step she took, and lightning continued to flash through the windows.
Then a moan sounded behind her.
She jerked her head toward the sound, searching for any signs of movement.
What if someone was up here with her?
The thought caused her skin to crawl.
She continued watching, halfway expecting to see someone pop out.
But there was no one. The moan must have come from the storm blowing against the wooden boards of the house.
Old childhood fears: reignited.
She needed to douse them quickly.
Finally, she reached the far side of the house and spotted a door.
It made sense there was a bigger entry to this space. Somehow, all this furniture had been put up here, and it hadn’t come through the small holes in the second-story ceiling.
Maybe this was it.
Hope surged through her.
She tugged on the door and groaned. It didn’t budge either.
“What the what?” she muttered.
Had someone planned it this way? Had they wanted to lock her inside? Why did this attic have locks on all these doors anyway?
Olive didn’t know. But as a scream cut through the air, she realized she had to get out of here and find out what was going on.
Olive tried the doors again.
They still didn’t budge.
She pounded on the floor.
Could anyone hear her above the noise of the rain and the thunder?
She wasn’t sure.
But she was antsy to get out of here—especially when she remembered that scream.
What was going on downstairs?
She rushed to the window and stared outside again.
Rain still poured from the sky, dripping down the glass in fat drops that came and went faster than planes taking off and landing at LaGuardia. Thunder shook the air, and lightning lit the sky.
Olive squinted as something outside caught her eye.
What was that?
She continued to watch in the distance.
Lights moved in the woods.
Bobbing lights, almost like two or three people were walking around in the middle of this storm.
But who would want to be out in this weather?
Olive supposed it could be some of the ranch hands doing a task for Reid. But what?
She continued to watch, curious about what might be going on.
The flashlights continued to move in sync as if the people holding them were working together to do something.
“Olive?”
She sucked in a breath and straightened.
Someone had just called her name, hadn’t they? Or was she hearing things?
She paused.
Then she heard it again. Her name. Someone was definitely calling for her.
She raced toward the stairway and banged on the floor. “I’m up here!”
Olive continued to stomp and yell, trying to get someone’s attention.
The next moment, the staircase lowered, and light filled the space.
She blinked down below and saw . . . Reid.
She didn’t wait for him to come up. She darted down the steps, desperate to get out of this attic. Maybe she’d been more freaked out than she’d wanted to admit.
Reid pulled her into a hug, and she folded herself into his strong arms. His beard brushed her cheek and sent a thrill through her. The familiar scent of his cologne brought her a moment of comfort.
“What happened?” Reid murmured.
Olive pulled back and raked her hair from her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. Looking scared didn’t do much for her credibility. She was usually better than this.
“I went upstairs to look for your mom’s dolls,” she started, holding her voice steady. “It seemed like a useful way to spend my time. But the staircase closed, and I got trapped up there. I thought I was going to have to spend the night in the attic.”
“What? How did that happen even?” Reid studied the stairs as if looking for a broken mechanism.
“I have no idea.”
“We do have small locks on the outside. They’re mostly to ensure the ladders stay in the ceiling and don’t fall and hurt someone. But if you were locked up there . . . it’s because someone wanted you to be locked up there.”
Olive shivered again. That was what she’d assumed. But hearing the words didn’t bring her any comfort.
Had it been Daphne? She was staying in the house, and she was at the top of Olive’s suspect list right now.
The scream slammed into her memory. “I heard someone scream?—”
“It was just Daphne,” Reid assured her. “She thought she saw a mouse. It was just an old sock. Everything is okay.”
Olive released the breath she’d been holding. “I’m glad.”
Then she remembered the will she’d found. Should she bring that up to Reid? Under normal circumstances, she would say yes. But something internal told her to keep this quiet for now and to continue gathering more information.
“Did you find the dolls?”
Reid’s voice snapped Olive from her thoughts, and she nodded quickly. “I did. There were only four.”
His frown deepened. “That’s what I suspected.”
“Who else knew those dolls were up there?” she asked.
He sighed and shook his head. “No one, really. I mean, I haven’t even been up in the attic for years. I have no reason to.”
“Someone’s been putting things up there for you, I assume.”
“I suppose . . .” He frowned.
“Suppose what?”
Reid shrugged. “Maybe Hannah. She probably knows the house better than anyone—not that I want to throw her under the bus. She’s been a good employee.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hannah would have also had the opportunity to go into her room and leave the doll hanging from her bed. The house manager could have been the one listening on the other side of the dining room door as well.
“I’m liking this situation less and less all the time,” Reid murmured.
Olive let out a deep breath. “Believe me, you’re not the only one.”