“The sheriff is already on his way here.”

“The sheriff is five miles away at the highway diner,” I said.

“And you have three seconds to give me that key.”

Evelyn pointed a shaking, manicured finger toward the entryway.

“On the silver tray by the mirror,” she whimpered.

“Just don’t hurt us, please.”

I walked past them, stepping through the wide front doorway.

The warmth of the house hit my face immediately.

My wet boots left dark, muddy tracks on the white marble floor.

The air inside smelled of expensive beeswax, leather, and pine.

I found the heavy brass ring of keys on the silver tray as she had said.

There were five different keys on the ring.

I turned and started up the grand, curved staircase.

Behind me, Charles was groaning as he tried to help Ryan to his feet.

I did not care about them right now.

My mind was fixed on the second-story window.

I reached the wide landing of the second floor.

The hallway was long and quiet, lined with oil paintings of hunting dogs.

“Emily!” I called out.