Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Olive turned in a slow circle, scanning the ground.
Nothing.
The snow was coming down too fast, blanketing everything in a seamless white sheet.
Where had Warren gone?
If he’d left footprints outside, they were covered now.
She turned toward the tree line. Beyond the edge of the property, the woods were a mass of dark shapes shifting in the storm. Branches creaked under the weight of snow.
Olive’s flashlight beam swept the first few feet of the trees.
The light bounced off ice and nothing else.
“If Warren is out there . . .” she started.
“We’ll never find him in this,” Jason said. “The temperature’s dropping fast. We’d freeze before we made it fifty yards. We didn’t bring the right gear for this.”
Olive’s thoughts clashed inside her. Just because those footprints matched didn’t mean that Warren was guilty of killing JJ. He could still be in danger.
The wind picked up again, sharp and wild. Olive flinched as snow stung her exposed skin.
Jason placed a hand on her arm. “We go back. Tell the others. We’ll search when the storm lets up.”
Though every instinct in her screamed to keep looking, Olive nodded. Logic won.
Warren wouldn’t have wanted them dying for him.
Plus, they’d promised Rex to come back, and he’d been adamant.
Still, something about leaving felt wrong. It felt like giving up—and Olive wasn’t a quitter.
They turned back toward the lodge, heads bowed against the wind. The warm glow from the windows was barely visible through the whiteout, flickering like a fragile promise of safety.
As they climbed the steps, Olive glanced back one last time.
The forest was nothing but a wall of darkness and snow.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching from within it.
The blast of heat from the lodge hit Olive like a wall when she stepped back inside. Snow clung to her coat and hair, melting into cold rivulets down her neck.
Everyone immediately turned toward them in the dim glow of the fire.
Everyone except Rachel and Bradford, who were probably still sleeping.
And . . . except Rex, who stood in the corner, speaking in low tones with Mara. Their heads were close together, voices too quiet to make out over the wind that still moaned outside.
Something about the way they stood—too still, too deliberate—sent a prickle down Olive’s spine. She couldn’t pinpoint why.
Maybe it was the tension in Mara’s shoulders, or the flicker of guilt that crossed Rex’s face when he noticed Olive watching.
He straightened immediately, his usual composure snapping back into place as he turned toward her and Jason. “Did you find Warren?”
Jason shook his head, his gaze full of regret. “No, just his footprint by the generator. The snow’s coming down too hard. Any tracks are gone.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
Mitzi was the first to move. “You two look half-frozen. Let me fix you something warm to drink. We just heated some water on the camp stove.”
A moment later, Olive accepted some hot chocolate with numb fingers. The cocoa was gritty and too sweet, but she sipped it anyway, grateful for the warmth.
As another coughing fit seized Trick, he excused himself from the room.
Nova pulled her blanket tighter as she sat in an armchair near the fire. “So, Warren’s really gone? Just . . . gone? Do we think someone has taken him hostage? Or that he left on his own—and if so, why would he do that?”
“We only saw one set of footprints, which makes it appear he left on his own.” Jason stood near the kitchen door and sipped his own warm drink. “However, it doesn’t make sense he would do that.”
“So what if someone had a gun on him—just not right beside him?” Nova continued. “That makes more sense, doesn’t it?”
Olive and Jason exchanged a look.
“Maybe,” Jason finally said. “None of this is really making sense right now. What I do know is that the storm is bad enough right now that if Olive and I went after him, we’d risk not making it back.”
Tevin pushed his glasses up, worry etched across his face. “But we can’t just do nothing.”
“Doing nothing is sometimes the only way to survive.” Rex’s tone sounded calm, but Olive thought she heard something under it—a tremor, maybe.
Jason set his mug down and crouched by the fire to thaw his hands. “We’ll go out again as soon as visibility improves.”
Mara’s face was pale as she gripped the back of the nearest chair as if to steady herself.
“If someone forced Warren into these mountains, he still has a fighting chance. My Warren knows the area around the inn better than anyone. He’s guided search parties before.
I’ve got to believe he’s capable of getting away and finding shelter. ”
No one disagreed, but no one looked convinced either.
Mara thought her husband could have gotten away if someone coerced him into the woods. But Olive knew the better possibility was that someone had led him away from the inn and hurt him.
But she didn’t speak the words aloud. Maybe it was better if Mara thought he’d left on his own accord.
Olive’s mind ticked through possibilities, as it always did—connections, motives, lies. She tried to focus on the warmth of the cup in her hands, the hum of the fire, the illusion of safety.
But then—
Creeaak.
A sound drifted down from above them.
Soft. Long. Deliberate.
Every head in the room lifted.
Jason’s expression sharpened. Olive set her mug aside, pulse leaping.
Tevin glanced toward the hallway. “Where’s Trick?”
“He headed to the bathroom a few minutes ago. I assume he’s still there.” Mitzi turned toward the stairs. “But that came from the second floor.”
“Is that where Trick is?” Jason asked.
“No, he’s on the first floor,” Mitzi said.
Olive remembered the scent of coffee. The absent blanket on the upstairs bed.
They were missing something. That was the only explanation.
“I’ll check it out.” Olive headed toward the staircase.
Jason was beside her. “We’ll check it out.”
They started up the stairs, boots whispering against the wood. The firelight flickered across the ceiling, casting moving shadows that made every beam and banister look alive.
Halfway up, the creak came again, somewhere down the hall.
Jason’s flashlight clicked on, the beam slicing through the dark.
Olive drew a slow breath, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Someone—or something—was up there with them.
And this inn might have just as many secrets as the people being housed inside.