I turned around instinctively, scanning for anything suspicious. A shadow. A movement. Anything at all.

Nothing.

“Emily?” I called from the sitting room.

“Yes!” she shouted back from the kitchen.

“I’ll use the bathroom.”

“Okay, it’s down here,” she called from the kitchen.

That was a white lie. Yes, I did need the bathroom, but my real intent was broader. Another chance to search, to probe, to find the smallest clue that might tell me what really happened to Arianna.

The narrow passage seemed to stretch on forever, shadows clinging to the walls. Maybe just nerves. Just as I slowed at a closed door, I nearly jumped out of my...