Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The great room fell 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.
Warren straightened, forcing a thin smile. “You can look in our suite if it helps.”
Mara nodded, her hands twisting in her apron. “We have nothing to hide.”
Warren retrieved a ring of keys from his pocket and led them down the hall beside the kitchen to the first door on the right. Mara joined them, and she clutched her husband’s arm as if nervous to be away from him.
Given the circumstances, Olive couldn’t blame her.
The lock clicked, and Warren pushed it open.
Their suite appeared.
The place was cozy—warm beige walls, a handmade quilt on the bed, the faint scent of peppermint and soap. A small Christmas tree stood on the dresser, trimmed with white lights and old-fashioned ornaments. A tray of cooling cookies sat on the desk, beside two mugs of untouched cocoa.
Nothing seemed out of place. And yet . . .
Olive’s eyes caught on something small near the baseboard—a faint streak of mud across the rug, leading from the adjoining bathroom toward the door.
She crouched. The mud was fresh, not yet dry. “Did either of you go outside recently?”
Warren looked surprised. “No. Not since before dinner.”
Mara hesitated, her face tightening. “Maybe one of us tracked it in earlier. I’ve been back and forth from the kitchen all evening.”
Olive nodded slowly but said nothing.
Jason’s voice broke the silence. “Everything else looks fine.”
Warren exhaled, visibly relieved. “Good. You mentioned the basement?”
“Yes,” Olive said. “We left JJ’s body down there until the police can reach us. But we should leave no stone unturned.”
Warren’s expression sobered. “Of course. This way.”
He led them to a door at the far end of the hall—a narrow wooden one with iron hinges. The doorknob rattled before it opened, releasing a draft of cold, stale air.
“You should wait here,” Jason told Warren. “Just in case.”
The innkeeper nodded and stepped back.
Olive and Jason started into the basement. The beam of Jason’s flashlight cut through dust motes in front of them as the staircase descended steeply into darkness.
They moved slowly, each step creaking under their weight.
The basement smelled of concrete and damp earth. Shadows stretched across old shelves stacked with supplies—paper towels, extra bedding, cases of bottled water.
And in the far corner—
Olive stopped short. “Jason.”
Emptiness stretched.
He lifted his light. The tarp lay in a heap in the corner, and the blanket they’d used to cover JJ was still there—folded in a neat square on the floor as if someone had taken the time to tidy up the space.
But JJ’s body was gone.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Jason finally exhaled, the sound low and controlled. “Please tell me Rex moved him.”
“He didn’t.” Her throat tightened. “No one on our team did.”
They stood there, the silence of the basement pressing in.
Olive’s stomach turned cold. “Jason . . . if the killer moved the body—”
“Then we’re not just dealing with a murderer.” He finished the thought quietly.
She met his gaze. “We’re dealing with someone who’s still active and trying to cover their tracks.”
Olive stood staring at the empty corner, pulse thudding in her throat.
This was the last thing she’d been expecting.
Jason swept his flashlight beam across the cement floor.
No footprints. No drag marks. No sign of disturbance other than the missing body itself.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Olive whispered. “Why take JJ’s body? And how?”
Jason shook his head, his jaw tense. “I’m not sure about either of those answers. Maybe there was something on JJ—something someone didn’t want us to find.”
Olive’s gaze drifted to the dark where the shadows pressed deepest. “Like the flash drive—except they could have searched for that device without taking his whole body.”
“You’re right. But still, smart move not telling anyone we found that. However, we searched JJ and didn’t find anything.”
“Maybe someone took his body because they needed his fingerprint to access some kind of digital device. Or maybe someone wanted to hide any evidence we might find on his body that could point to them as the killer.” Olive shrugged. “It’s really kind of strange.”
“Yes, it is.” Jason scanned the walls again, the beam briefly catching on a rusted pipe and shelves of canned goods.
He stopped on the outside entrance leading into the basement.
“You think that’s how someone got him out?” Olive asked.
“It makes the most sense.”
She climbed the narrow steps leading to the door.
Sure enough, it was unlocked.
She and Jason had checked it earlier, and it had been secure.
“Someone could have picked the lock from the outside,” Jason suggested, moving up the staircase behind her.
“You’re right. They could have.” She pushed on the door.
As soon as it flew open, the wind swept inside, shooting cold daggers through any exposed skin.
Despite that, she scanned the area outside.
Any footprints that might have been left had been covered by the heavy snowfall.
“I’m not surprised,” Jason murmured.
Olive shook her head and closed the door again. “Me either.”
“This person’s knowledgeable enough to know how to cover their tracks. Strong enough to move him.”
It was true. Neither Mitzi, Nova, nor Mara could have moved JJ on their own.
She didn’t think Warren was strong enough either.
But Trick, Tevin, or Rex could have managed.
A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold. “We’re missing something, Jason. I can feel it.”
He nodded grimly. “We’ll find it.”
But as they turned toward the stairs, both knew the truth—they were chasing a ghost in the shadows of a snowstorm.
No one was getting any sleep tonight.