There was an uncanny charm to the ire in her voice as she said his name. He probably shouldn’t enjoy it so much.

Probably shouldn’t let her roam through the woods in the pitch black by herself, either. It’d been one thing when she was following him and his flashlight, but it’d be too easy for a person to get turned around this late at night, especially one who wasn’t familiar with the lay of the land.

“Syd, wait.”

“No, no. Go on with your secret caper.” She flung the words over her shoulder. “I won’t stalk you anymore.”

Wind whistled through the grass, carrying the faint, distant echoes of the waves folding into the shore. Either walk her back to the house, despite her protests, or . . .

No way. He’d kept the structure under wraps this long. Had exactly zero desire to let anyone else see it until he’d completed the thing.

Then again, what would it hurt to let her tag along? It’s not like Sydney Rose would still be around when he finally got up the nerve to let Maggie in on his secret. And he was fairly certain if he asked Sydney to keep the place to herself, she would.

Because he’d seen the way she was with Maggie at dinner tonight. Attentive to every word. Insistent on helping clear the table and rinse off dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. She’d oohed and aahed over dessert—the leftover cheesecake from the night before. Refilled Maggie’s mug with decaf coffee. Twice.

Underneath her bewildering decision to let Wilder drag her here and her out-of-place attire now, he got the distinct impression that Sydney Rose was a decent person.

Either that or both his and Captain’s instincts needed fine-tuning.

“Sydney, stop.”

She’d nearly reached the edge of the woods.

“You can come with me.”

She halted, finally. Glanced over her shoulder. “Come with you where?”

He whistled for Captain and started across the field once more. “Just come on.” He didn’t wait to see if she followed, but he felt the slight tug of a grin all the same when he heard her rustling steps switch course and hurry toward him.

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He pointed his flashlight toward the grouping of trees at the far end of the west field. “Nope.” Miss Nosy Parker could just hold her horses.

“Then will you tell me who Greta is?”

She sounded out of breath. For the second time that day, he slowed so she could keep up. “The last impost—the last guest to sleep in the room you are currently occupying. Only in her case, she actually claimed to be Maggie’s missing granddaughter. Showed up of her own accord.”

Sydney gasped. “You mean . . . there were others?”

She didn’t know? “You’re the fifth one.”

Apparently that stunned her into silence. Because she didn’t say another word the rest of the walk. Not when they reached the spot where the field turned hilly. Not when he led her under the cover of more trees. Not when he slackened his pace several yards from the oak tree, Captain slowing with him.