The Vanishing Hour by Seraphina Nova Glass

Author:Seraphina Nova Glass
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises ULC
Published: 2023-03-13T14:29:52+00:00

17

GRACE

In the early morning, Grace walks the perimeter of the property with Hobbes by her side. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for—maybe footprints in the mud or the side gate unlatched, but she just wants to feel safe—make sure nobody has been lurking around.

When she’s satisfied that there is nothing out of place, she gets a mug of coffee and a blanket from a storage chest inside the back door, wraps it around herself and sits on the back porch swing. The trees go on forever, and the closest neighbor to the inn is at least a mile away. She wonders where she’d run if she had to. She can’t run though, can she? Walking is difficult enough, and she’d never make it through the rugged terrain all the way to the next property if someone were after her. If someone were lurking around, and if they were really after her—overpowered her.

Right now, she’s in control. She’s safe, she reminds herself. She stares out at the treetops that look like they are burning as the blazing orange sun begins to peek through behind them. She looks at the cellar door in the ground and remembers being kept in a basement like that. She’s never brought herself to go inside it, and she’s never stepped foot in the inn’s basement either. But now...she thinks this debilitating fear has caused harm. She thinks about those other two girls, and how maybe he wouldn’t have gotten them if she’d paid attention—the monster who took her because it has to be the same person.

She never thought about other people being taken, trapped like she was. She was just a kid back then. She was focused on surviving. And then when she did survive, she was still focused on surviving—surviving the day to day of a life that was no longer hers. It was taken away from her, and she could only retreat into herself to make it through a day. No one could fault her for that, but now...she blames herself. She never mentioned to the police the yellow zip ties she’d seen on the wall. It was just something in the room—a room that was full of things, of junk and trinkets, and shelves of tarnished, useless knickknacks, canning jars, and rotting paint cans. She wouldn’t have even recalled the zip ties if it weren’t forced in front of her face—the detail that they were larger than normal, and then the detail about them actually being cattle castration bands. She remembers the label on an unopened bag on a rusty low shelf next to the utility sink. There was an image of a cow head on the bag. It’s all making sense now.

She spent most of last night on the front desk computer after Aden went to bed, looking up what she could about these cases. It’s something she would have never imagined herself doing even twenty-four hours ago, but what she’d learned changed things. What kind of person would she be

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