Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
By the time Olive and Jason came back inside, the air in the great room had changed. The scent of something warm drifted from the kitchen—something with apples and cinnamon maybe—but it did little to mask the tension that hung thick as smoke in the inn.
Mara stood in the kitchen, ladling what appeared to be oatmeal from some type of portable burner into mismatched bowls. “Everyone needs to eat something. We’re no good to anyone on empty stomachs.”
Reluctantly, they obeyed. Chairs scraped across the wood floor as the team gathered around the fire. The flicker of the flames painted weary faces in shifting gold and shadow.
Michael sat apart from the rest, hunched forward on the edge of a chair, a bowl of oatmeal cupped in his hands. He ate quietly, eyes down, but even Olive felt the weight of everyone watching him.
No one was relaxed. Not even close.
When Bradford and Rachel leaned close for a private conversation, Mitzi finally spoke. She kept her tone low so the strangers wouldn’t hear.
“You didn’t just owe someone a favor, Rex,” she whispered. “You endangered all of us.”
Olive’s eyes widened. Though she was upset with Rex, she still knew her place. Rex was her boss, and people didn’t speak to their bosses like this. Well, most people didn’t.
Mitzi was the exception.
Rex had always been good to her and, even though he’d made a bad judgment call, part of her understood.
That said, Mitzi had worked for Rex much longer than she had, so their relationship was different—maybe more personal.
Rex set his bowl aside, his expression unreadable. “I made an executive decision.”
“You made a bad one,” she shot back. “You brought a wanted man into an isolated mountain lodge in the middle of a snowstorm. What did you think would happen?”
Jason leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Mitzi’s not wrong. You should have told us what was going on.”
The issue was clearly still on everyone’s minds.
Rex’s jaw flexed. “And what would you have done in my shoes? Left him to die? I did what I thought was right.”
“And now JJ is dead.” Nova’s voice shook. “Is Michael more important than JJ?”
“The biotech he’s developing could change military warfare as we know it,” Rex said, his voice strangely calm. “So, no, he’s not more important. But I can’t let the wrong people get their hands on what he’s developing. It could be detrimental.”
“Detrimental to what?” Trick asked.
“For lack of a better word—to world peace.”
Rex’s words hung in the room.
Silence fell again. The fire popped, spitting a spark up the chimney.
Trick cleared his throat before quietly saying, “Look, arguing isn’t helping anyone. The storm’s easing up. Once it clears completely, we’ll find Warren and get Michael somewhere safe. We just have to stay calm.”
The tone was meant to soothe, but something about it grated on Olive’s nerves. He almost sounded too practiced, too measured. His eyes moved from person to person like he was taking inventory, not offering comfort.
Olive’s gaze shifted to Rachel, who sat beside Bradford, warming her hands on the bowl of oatmeal. As those two finished their conversation, everyone put on their best game faces again. Those two didn’t ned to know all of this.
Rachel’s own face was pale, almost drawn, and she kept glancing toward the window, as if she was anxious to get away from here.
Olive couldn’t blame her.
The room fell quiet.
Then—
Buzz.
The overhead lights flickered once, twice—then blazed to life.
Everyone blinked against the sudden brightness, eyes adjusting after so many hours in dim firelight.
An electric hum filled the silence.
The power had been restored!
As Rachel shifted in her chair, the blanket slipped just enough for a glimpse beneath her coat. For the briefest instant, something about the shape of her belly looked . . . off. Not round exactly. More defined. Structured.
Olive blinked, and the moment passed. It was probably just the angle or the way her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the sudden light.
She was seeing danger when there was none. First, the couple’s backpack. Now thinking Rachel’s stomach looked off.
But as much as she tried to convince herself that was true, the unsettled feeling in her gut remained.
Michael set his bowl down with shaking hands, his eyes darting around the room. “The killer is here. I can feel it.”
“Don’t start,” Rex warned.
“Killer?” Bradford asked, concern filling his gaze.
“We have a situation we’re dealing with,” Rex said.
“What kind of situation?” Bradford stood. “Do I need to remind you that my wife is pregnant?”
“We’re well aware,” Rex said. “You being here isn’t ideal, but none of us really had any other choice. I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to keep the situation under control.”
Michael rose, his eyes wild. “You don’t get it. Someone wants to torture me until I give them what they want! They’re willing to kill people in order to get to me. And this person could be someone in this room.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Nova snapped. “None of us are killers.”
Olive wished she felt that confident.
“Is it ridiculous?” Mitzi’s sharp gaze cut toward Nova. “We have one dead man—whose body was stolen—and one missing innkeeper. Unless there’s another hidden room around here, then the killer is in this room.”
Everyone looked at each other with wide, suspicious eyes.
Trick stood slowly, his eyes on Michael. “Who’s to say it wasn’t him? Maybe he didn’t come here for protection—maybe he came here to enact some sort of plan.”
Voices rose, accusations overlapping.
They all had too many fears and too much exhaustion.
Through it all, Olive sat still, her mind racing.
Because while everyone else was arguing, she couldn’t stop thinking about who might be guilty.
More than ever, she needed to find that answer now.