Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Rex’s voice cut through the low murmur in the room, command mode re-engaged. “All right, if we’re going to make it through being snowed in here, we need to stay on guard, unified, and organized.”
Unified? That would be hard, Olive mused, considering the fact Rex had been keeping secrets that had put them all in danger—and gotten JJ killed.
Everyone fell silent, eyes on him. The fire snapped in the hearth, shadows dancing across strained faces.
“Jason, Olive,” Rex continued. “Do a perimeter check. Make sure all doors and windows are still locked. See if anything’s been tampered with.”
Jason nodded once. “On it.”
“Tevin.” Rex turned to him. “See if you can get any kind of signal yet—radio, cell, shortwave, anything.”
Tevin gave a mock salute, though his face was pale. “I’ll tap into my inner MacGyver.”
“Trick,” Rex said next. “You stay with Michael. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
Trick leaned back against the mantel. “Babysitting duty. Got it.”
“He’s going to get me sick . . .” Michael murmured.
“Mitzi, Nova—you keep the fire going. Last thing we need is to freeze to death on top of everything else.”
“I may have a broken arm, but I’m still capable of helping do things,” Mitzi muttered.
“I know,” Rex said. “But this is how you can help right now.”
Mitzi scowled but nodded.
“And Mara . . .” Rex hesitated, his voice softening. “You stay near the window. If Warren comes back, I want you to be the first to see him.”
Mara nodded, her lips pressed together tightly before she quietly said, “In my gut, I know he’s out there and that he’ll come back. He knows these mountains.”
Olive hoped that was correct and that something horrible hadn’t happened to the man.
Before Rex could respond, movement in the hallway caught Olive’s eye.
Rachel and Bradford had emerged, drawn by the voices. Rachel looked pale but composed, one hand resting protectively on her stomach. Bradford hovered close beside her, his arm around her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Bradford’s voice sounded hoarse with sleep.
“We’re just making sure the place is secure,” Jason said. “The storm’s let up a little.”
Rachel’s gaze swept the room, and something that looked a lot like relief flickered across her expression.
Then her gaze stopped on Michael. “Who is he?”
Everyone glanced at each other, but Rex took the lead. “He turned in early last night, so you weren’t able to meet him. This is Michael.”
The skeptical look remained in her gaze, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Should you be up?” Mara hurried toward her. “You should be resting, dear.”
“I’m fine,” Rachel said, though her voice trembled. Then she winced, grabbing her stomach.
Mara gasped. “Another contraction?”
Rachel nodded. “It’s nothing. Braxton Hicks again . . . probably. I’ve been having them all night.”
All they needed right now was for Rachel to go into labor.
Please, Lord . . . no. I think we have enough on our hands as it is right now.
“Sit down.” Mara guided her toward the sofa.
Bradford followed, his hand on Rachel’s back as he murmured softly to her. His eyes darted around the room, almost as if he didn’t trust everyone here.
And maybe he shouldn’t.
As the group scattered to their tasks, Olive moved to grab her coat on the rack. Her path took her past the sofa, past the couple.
That was when she saw the backpack Rachel and Bradford had brought with them. They’d brought it out with them when they emerged from their room, and now it sat on the floor not far from her.
The zipper was half open, just enough for Olive to glimpse something dark inside—metallic edges glinting faintly in the firelight.
Not a makeup case or a cell phone.
Something bigger. Heavier.
Olive’s breath caught.
What was inside the bag? Rex himself had checked it—and cleared them.
Yet she couldn’t look away—she had to know the truth.
She angled herself and pretended to drop a glove. She didn’t want to draw any attention.
But just as she bent over, Bradford stood.
Olive knew the opportunity had passed—she couldn’t look now.
Instead, she forced herself to keep walking, heart pounding, pretending to adjust her gloves.
Not now. Too many eyes.
But as she reached the door where Jason waited, she risked one last glance over her shoulder.
Rachel was watching her.
The woman flashed a smile, and Olive let her guard down some.
Maybe she was seeing guilt when there was none there. But the fact remained that someone in this house was a killer.
However, Rachel and Bradford had arrived after JJ had been killed. And Rachel was pregnant.
Olive just needed to take a deep breath.
She stepped out into the cold, the door closing softly behind her.
Whatever was in that bag—it wasn’t a change of clothes.
She wanted to know what it was.
The cold hit Olive’s face the moment she and Jason stepped outside.
The wind had died down since they were last outside, leaving behind a fragile stillness broken only by the distant groan of trees under their heavy coats of snow.
“Aren’t we lucky?” Olive started. “We keep getting tagged whenever someone needs to go outside.”
“It’s fine by me,” Jason said. “I feel like I’m suffocating inside. I’ll take the cold to the oppressiveness.”
“Can you believe Rex kept this from us?” Olive asked.
“It’s his prerogative,” Jason murmured as they continued across the snow.
The sky was a dull gray, morning trying to push through the storm’s last remnants. Snowflakes drifted lazily now, soft and harmless compared to only an hour earlier.
They started around the side of the inn, their boots crunching through the crust of snow as smoke curled upward from the chimney.
“The truth is that I don’t know who to trust anymore,” Olive said.
“I get that.” Jason paused in the snow and turned toward her. “But you always know you can trust me, right?”
Her lips twitched despite the weight in her chest. “Of course. But beyond that?” She shook her head. “Everything about this feels wrong. JJ, Warren, Michael, Rex’s secret . . . it’s like we’re missing something that’s been right in front of us the whole time.”
Jason was quiet a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he reached out and brushed a bit of snow from her hair, his fingers lingering just long enough to make her chest ache.
“Whatever it is,” he said quietly, “we’ll find it. Together.”
The warmth in his voice steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
She smiled faintly. “Thank you. This isn’t how I pictured the retreat going.”
Jason chuckled under his breath. “Mandatory rest and review? Yeah. I was picturing hot cocoa, not homicide.”
“Same.” Olive exhaled, her breath puffing into the cold air.
They reached the back of the lodge, and Olive scanned the tree line. The snow-draped forest loomed silent and heavy.
Then—
Snap.
A sharp crack cut through the air.
Both froze.
Olive’s pulse leapt.
The sound had come from the woods just beyond the clearing. It wasn’t the soft shift of snow falling from a branch.
This was something heavier, more deliberate.
Jason’s hand went to the small of her back, steadying her as his eyes searched the trees. “Stay behind me.”
Olive strained to see through the gray light.
Nothing moved. Just endless white and shadow.
“Could be an animal,” Jason murmured.
“Or not.”
They waited, listening.
Then another sound—softer this time. Footsteps, maybe. A faint shuffle.
Was it Warren?
Or a killer?
“Should we check it out?” Olive asked.
As if to answer her question, movement caught their eye.
A buck paced out from behind a tree.
Olive felt herself relax, relief filling her.
“It’s just a deer,” she murmured.
“Still, we should get inside.” Jason took her arm.
Olive didn’t argue.
They crunched through the snow, the inn’s dark shape rising ahead like a promise of safety.
But as Olive reached for the handle, she couldn’t help but to look back one last time.
The buck had wandered off.
And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—remained watching from just out of sight.