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His voice was her only anchor. “Did someone post my address online? How the hell do you all know to come here?”

A few slow blinks, and she could make out shapes—the edge of the bench, the pale lines of doorframes, Oliver moving past her.

Addison cut in front of him before he could slip away into the shadows. “You could have let her come inside.”

“I don’t want her inside.”

“Why not? Because she’s also looking for my brother?”

“One intruder is enough.” Stepping around her, Oliver didn’t look back as he strode to the kitchen.

She watched him go, frustration rising. How could he just dismiss everyone so easily? If he wanted to locate Kyle, why let someone who knew him drive away?

Careful to avoid bumping into furniture, she followed. “Are you the one who put up the hundred grand?”

Reaching into the cupboard, he grabbed a box of muesli. “Hell, no. I’m not hiring out for something I intend to do myself.”

“Aren’t you curious about her?” Addy prodded, leaning against the counter across from him. “She could lead us to Kyle.”

He thrust his hand into the box and withdrew a handful of cereal. “If she knew where Kyle was, she wouldn’t have come here. She was here to see what you know.”

“I clearly know nothing.”

Popping the muesli into his mouth, he averted the marked side of his face from her, despite the shadows that made it difficult to see anyway. He chewed slowly, deliberately, before speaking. “Did she look familiar to you?”

Addison searched the depths of her memory. “Not that I can recall. Do you think she was really pregnant? That stomach was unreal.”

The dry crunch was his only reply. Dammit. Did that mean he didn’t know either, or didn’t want her to know? Kyle wouldn’t ghost his pregnant fiancée. Then again, she’d never thought he’d leave his daughter like that either. Maybe she didn’t know him well at all.

Her grouchy roommate removed himself upstairs. She’d have gladly left him there and gone on to search for Sylvia—wherever that woman might have gone—except he had taken the car keys with him. Had snagged them from the tray on the counter before she even realized they were there. Without her cell phone, she couldn’t call a cab, and hitchhiking to anywhere from here seemed like a surefire way to end up tomorrow’s missing persons headline.

Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck in this remote home until she could figure out what had driven Kyle back to Ireland.

With Oliver upstairs, she might as well take advantage of her run of the place and start looking. Her search of the downstairs turned up nothing. No conveniently unlocked laptop, no printed files, not even a damn Post-it. Nothing but history books and dust.

Which meant that Oliver must keep whatever information he had in his room upstairs—along with the car keys.

At least he’d left her alone for the rest of the afternoon and evening. After tidying up the kitchen, she pieced together lunch and dinner from his well-stocked fridge, listening for footsteps that never came.

Not that she minded his absence. Every time they occupied the same room, they ended up making out. Space was probably the wiser choice.

After dinner, she combed through the downstairs one more time. Zilch again. The only place left to explore was the floor above.

But Oliver was still awake. The hum of a treadmill and low classical music—apparently, his preferred workout soundtrack—gave that away. Marching up there now would be pointless.

Rumor had it that Oliver slept early. Might as well give it a few hours.

With nothing else to do, she took a quick shower, scrubbing the plane from her. In her tank and joggers, she returned to her room, climbed under the covers, and waited.

Her bed was surprisingly comfortable. Lying in the dark was most decidedly not. Why was it so quiet here? In Seattle, she was used to the hollow din of traffic, the whirr of nearby street construction, the thump of her insomniac upstairs neighbor’s footsteps.

But here? Nothing but silence, broken by the occasional tap of light rain against the windows.

She could practically hear the house sigh and settle for the night.

It was too quiet. The linens that had felt butter-soft just hours earlier now chafed. The room stifled with its hollowness. She could count her own heartbeat in her ears.

Attempting to nap while waiting for Oliver to settle down was pointless. Instead, she hopped out of bed and paced while the tall case clock ticked away the minutes.