Never Lie (10)

“I don’t think there’s anyone here, Tricia,” he says as he closes the door of the fourth bedroom.

“Keep looking,” I say through my teeth.

Fifth bedroom—empty.

Now there’s one last room left. All the bedrooms we have seen so far have been about the same size and rather impersonal looking. This leads me to suspect that the last bedroom must be the master bedroom. The place where Adrienne Hale slept every night in the months and years before her disappearance.

As we walk to the final door, I grab onto Ethan’s arm. My heart is pounding so hard that it hurts my chest.

“Tricia, your nails…”

I ease up my grip ever so slightly. “Sorry.”

I’m probably still gouging him with my nails, but he lets me do it. He lowers the hand not clutching the knife onto the doorknob. And quietly, he twists the knob.





Chapter 5


“There’s no one here,” Ethan announces.

He flips the switch inside the last room, setting the space aglow. This room is significantly larger than all the others and looks like it’s a master bedroom. There’s a king-sized bed in the center of the room with an ornate wooden headboard. The bed is made up, and when I reach out a finger to touch the cream-colored bedspread with the red trim, it too has a thick layer of dust on it.

“Nobody.” He taps open the bathroom door and peeks inside. “Not even hiding in the bathroom.”

“I can see that.”

He fiddles with the handle of the knife. “So are you satisfied? Or do you want me to check under the bed?”

I don’t need him to check under the bed, but it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to check the closet. I grab the shiny gold handle of a door near the bathroom and fling it open. It is, as I suspected, a walk-in closet. That’s another luxury we don’t have in our Manhattan apartment.

Rows of expensive-looking clothing line the expansive closet—I see tags from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Versace. And there’s just a hint of a sweet-smelling perfume enclosed in the closet, like a tomb—Chanel, I think. I run my fingers over the fabric of a white sweater hanging in the closet—cashmere.

This more than anything is evidence that Dr. Adrienne Hale is dead. Because no woman would voluntarily leave here without taking this gorgeous sweater with her.

“Satisfied, Tricia?”

I pull my fingers away from the cashmere sweater. “I don’t get it. Why was the light on?”

“Maybe it was a bulb that blew out?”

I shake my head. “It couldn’t be. We turned on all the overhead lights and they all work perfectly.”

“Maybe it was a lamp.”

I shoot him a look.

Ethan throws up his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. We checked every room. We’ve looked in the closet. There’s nobody here.”

I can’t argue with him. He’s right that we have checked every room and looked as carefully as we can. If there’s someone here, they don’t want us to find them. Maybe it’s better if we don’t find them.

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s go have dinner.”

Except if we sleep in one of the bedrooms tonight, I am definitely locking the door. And barricading it.

As we walk back down the spiraling stairs to the first floor, I don’t feel much better about anything. In fact, I feel more anxious. I’m certain I saw the light on from outside the house, and the fact that none of those lights are on is deeply unsettling. I don’t know why Ethan doesn’t seem upset about it. Maybe he’s just hiding it well.

After we get back downstairs, I notice a room off to the side with the door cracked open right by the stairwell. I tap on the door to push it the rest of the way open, and I gasp slightly. Ethan freezes in his steps.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

I peer inside this new room. Like many of the rooms in the house, it’s huge. And like the living room, the walls are lined with bookcases, all stuffed to the brim with books. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many books in my life. By the window in the corner is a large mahogany desk, with a leather chair behind it and a dusty desktop computer sitting on top. The final piece of furniture in the room is a large leather sofa. Dr. Adrienne Hale clearly loved leather furnishings.

“This must have been her office,” I breathe.

Ethan glances around, an appreciative look on his face. “When we live here, I could use this room for my office.”

“Uh…” I don’t want to burst his bubble and tell him that at the moment, there’s no way in hell I’m willing to consider living in this house. If only because I will forever be terrified that there is a stranger hidden in one of the dark recesses of the second floor. “Sure.”

“I’d hardly have to change a thing.” He presses a hand against the sofa, testing its integrity. “Well, I’d get rid of all the books. But other than that, it’s perfect.”

“Yes. Perfect.” Over my dead body.

Ethan leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek. “I’m going to finish making our sandwiches. You can browse her library.”

Before I have a chance to protest, Ethan has left to return to the kitchen. I want to follow him, but my legs feel frozen. This office. Even more than the rest of the house, it gives me the creeps.