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.

This is where she worked. She was almost certainly in this room on the day she disappeared. Even more than the master bedroom, this room feels haunted by her presence.

I walk over to the mahogany desk. This room is dusty, but not as bad as the living room. There’s just a thin layer of dust over the desk and the computer keys. I pluck a tissue out of a box she has on the desk and run it over the black computer monitor. Then I dust off the seat of the leather chair.