She never got there.
A light was on in the inn.
Or rather, a light waspresentin the inn. As Jordan paused in the grass, she watched a white glow swing this way and that on the second floor.
A flashlight.
Goose bumps erupted down Jordan’s arm. She spent about two point five seconds wondering if she should get Simon or call the police, but the latter didn’t seem to be a safe solution for anyone these days, and the former... well, she could probably take care of an intruder more efficiently than her brother could. She was almost positive he’d never thrown a punch in his life, whereas at least Jordan knew how to wield heavy tools.
She ducked into her workshop, heart pumping adrenaline, and set her bag on the sawdust-covered cement floor as quietly as she could. Using her own phone as a light, she rooted around on her workbench until she found it—her three-pound, hardwood-drilling hammer.
Slipping out of her workshop, she stole across the lawn, eyes searching in the dark for a car. But aside from the dumpster, the front drive was completely barren, grass torn up from work trucks. She glanced up at the inn.
The light had settled in the Lapis Room.
Jordan squeezed her eyes closed, fear spilling into her chest. She took one... two... three deep breaths, sent out a little plea for help to Alice Everwood, and then hurried around the back of the house where she used her key to let herself in.
The house smelled like fresh paint, the gray that Astrid had ordered covering the walls in the kitchen. Somethingthumpedabove her head. She tapped on her phone’s light and hurried to the stairs, taking them slowly, avoiding that spot on the twelfth step she knew squeaked, and tiptoed her way to the Lapis Room.
The door was closed, white light swinging underneath the thin strip near the floor.
Jordan circled her hand around the crystal doorknob. There was no way to do this gingerly as she knew the door would creak like an old person’s bones as soon as she opened it. She had to choose—the phone light or the hammer. It wasn’t a question, really. She turnedoff the light and tucked her phone into her back pocket, then shifted so she could be ready to swing the door open with her left hand, wielding the hammer with her right.
She paused, listening for movement inside. There were light footsteps, the scuff of what sounded like wood scraping against wood, then... a voice. A softly uttered “Shit,” if Jordan wasn’t mistaken.
Counting to three in her head, she turned the knob and pushed, hammer raised like Thor as she charged into the room. But before she could get any heroic words off her tongue, she barreled into something soft, ricocheted backward, and landed on her ass.
“Oh my god!” a voice screeched.
“Jesus Christ!” Jordan screeched back. The glow that had filled the room snuffed out, whoever-the-hell’s phone or tablet landing with a crack on the hardwoods.
Jordan scrambled back to standing, grabbing for her hammer that she’d dropped in her fall. She held it with both hands, ready to swing. “Who the fuck—”
She froze, eyes adjusting to the dark, a familiar silhouette coming into focus.
“Parker?”
Astrid just sighed from where she’d landed on the floor, her iPad in its leather case next to her.
“Hi, Jordan.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” She was breathing hard, both relief and anger swirling in her chest. And a little bit of excitement, if she was being honest, but she squashed that feeling down. Way down.
“Well?” she asked when Astrid said nothing.
Astrid picked up her iPad and turned the flashlight back on, pointing it downward as she slowly got to her feet. She was wearing yoga pants—very tight yoga pants, not that Jordan noticed—and a slouchy, off-the-shoulder sweatshirt.
“I... well, I was just...” Astrid said, but she didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she just stood there, her fancy black bag at her feet, an expression on her face that reminded Jordan of a kid trying to figure out a difficult math problem.
Jordan waited. She had absolutely no intention of making this interaction easy for Astrid, not after she’d nearly given Jordan a heart attack at the age of thirty-one.
And ignored her all day after an amazing fucking night, but no need to bring messy emotions into this.
Finally, Astrid sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come here and do some work.”
“As opposed to coming to the inn during regular working hours to do some work?”
“I didn’t say it was a logical choice.”
