Who's There?: A must-read psychological thriller with disturbing twists, eerie small-town vibes, and secrets that won’t stay buried. (WELCOME HOME Book 2) by Samara Cove

Author:Samara Cove [Cove, Samara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

Sarah

On a normal day, the drive from the lake house to the hotel where I’m staying wouldn’t take that long, but with Uncle Riley’s journal in my possession, I can’t get back fast enough.

I can’t wait to dive in.

I know I should probably turn the journal over to the police, but I can’t without knowing what’s inside. The mystery is killing me. Uncle Riley had a lot of secrets. I can’t imagine what else I might learn about him from these pages. As I park the car, I glance over at the leather journal sitting on the passenger seat beside me.

Plans from my grandfather are inside. The papers that explain the project he wanted me to complete because Riley couldn’t, or wouldn’t. I’m still unsure about that. Six years of unknowns because I was too stubborn to listen to Brian when he told me to find the secret room in the basement and make the compound he feels is indebted to him.

Maybe I’ll finally be able to see why Brian would need a chemical compound so strong.

“No use in waiting another minute to find out.”

Taking the bag of vials in my hand and tucking the journal under my arm, I walk in the direction of room 202. As I approach the door, I see the corner of a white envelope sticking out from underneath it.

I was supposed to check out yesterday, but I extended my stay. They must have charged my card to close out the reservation and slid the receipt inside my room. Using my keycard, I flash it against the door lock, and the light turns green for me to enter. When I open the door and pick up the envelope, a sinking feeling curls in the pits of my stomach. This is not a bill or receipt from the hotel. It’s a letter addressed to me.

“Sweet Sarah” is written on the outside of the envelope, and the handwriting is familiar. A noticeable extra swirl in the S and W catches my eye, just as it did when I saw it written all over the lake house walls.

My chest tightens as I realize what this means. Someone is watching me, and that person has been to my hotel room. Again, I should be taking this envelope and running it straight to the police, but the same urge I felt that made me tiptoe into the lake house kitchen is itching for me to see what’s inside.

Sure to lock the door first, I walk deeper into the room and drop everything but the envelope onto the bed. My hands tremble as I flip the pure white envelope over and peel the flap up. The top of a single picture peeks out of the wrapping. When I take it out of the sleeve to have a closer look, I furrow my brows as I study the photo.

I’m confused.

The picture is of the graffiti-covered walls of the lake house.

Everything in the picture is the same as it was when I saw it less than an hour ago.

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