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.