Chapter Seventeen Delaney

Chapter Seventeen

Delaney

Now: Saturday, 11:00 a.m.

My boyfriend loves to disappear.

He's like a magician or a wizard—there one minute, gone the next. Usually I find him hours later tucked in a cozy nook with his nose buried in a textbook. Yep, Liam's the kind of smart that reads schoolbooks for fun. I've even caught him with a law tome or two and teased him, "What, are you going to go to medical school and law school, just to prove you can?"

And he'll hit me with a crooked smile. "Maybe."

My boyfriend is amazing. And he's going places. Preferably with me.

But he gets away from me often.

The ski chalet only has so many rooms he could be in, yet I can't find him anywhere. Liam can hardly be outside, can he? Snow's been pelting at the windows like stray bullets ever since I woke up from my nap. The storm is back in force, bearing down on the house and on us inside it.

I've checked all the expected spots—his room, living room, dining room—and now I stick my head into Silva's deserted quarters. Empty.

The door to the ski room stops me cold. This is where they put Declan. Liam wouldn't go in there again. I sure as hell don't want to. Yet it's one place I haven't looked….

I take a breath and duck inside, swiftly surveying the length of the room. Then my eyes land…there, and I bolt back into the hall quick as I can, shutting the door behind me. I lean against the wall, fingertips massaging the smooth wood as I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. The adrenaline subsides. Just a normal reaction to a dead person. Nothing to worry about.

When I finally crack open my eyes, I spot a room tucked around the corner that is easy to miss. Sauna , reads a hand-carved wooden sign affixed to the door. There's an electronic pad under that with a temperature and timer setting, and I can see it counting down, the small window cut into the honeyed wood door steamed over. Liam's probably in there with Wyatt. They may not be each other's biggest fans, but Declan united them. Hitting the steam room at Warner was one of their favorite pastimes, so the sauna makes sense. I'll wait for him upstairs.

"Is Ms. Silva back?" I ask, crossing over to the living room. Camille is lounging on the couch with a magazine while Piper reads her book.

"No." Camille worries her lip. "How long do you think it takes to snowmobile down there?"

"We were driving up the mountain for a good forty minutes. And that was by car, on a clear road," Piper replies. "The last house I saw before this one had to be five miles away?"

I frown. "So town is farther. And it's snowing again pretty bad. She'll be caught in it."

"How will she make it before dark? God, she might not be back until tomorrow?" Panic rises in Camille's voice.

She might not make it back at all, I can't help thinking.

Eden clomps down the stairs, her tear-swollen face from earlier replaced by a full mask of makeup.

"Don't judge me—this is part of my grieving process," she preemptively announces, before heading over to the pantry. She emerges with a bottle of vodka.

"Anyone else want shots?"

"Me!" Wyatt's call echoes from the stairs. We turn to see him, Liam, and Willa coming onto the landing, clad in bathing suits and towels, flushed and sweaty. Not a bro down in the sauna, then. I fight down a jolt of jealousy.

Eden locates a collection of shot glasses, and we all sit around the dining table.

Camille starts right off with the depressing news. "We don't think Ms. Silva will make it back today. It's a long ride down the mountain to begin with, and in these conditions…" She trailsoff.

"Down the hatch, then." Wyatt throws back a shot. He promptly pours himself another.

"How long do you think we could be stranded here?" Liam asks.

I do a quick mental calculation. "Depends on when she arrives. And how bad the roads are in order to get back up to us. The storm was bad enough to knock out the phone lines."

"But not the power," Piper chimes in. "You don't find that odd?"

Wyatt shakes his head. "My grandpa's got a cabin out by Estes Park. Bad storms take out landlines all the time, and sometimes the power, but not always both. Though places usually have backup generators if that happens." He frowns, looks around. "Did anyone check if we switched to generator power? Maybe the storm is that bad?"

We all turn, surveying the expanse of windows, where you can barely make out the trees now. Just white on white on white, with a squalling wind that shrieks every few minutes.

"I mean, we can't even confirm the Wi-Fi is really down," says Piper. "We just took Silva's word for it."

"Why would she lie?" I counter. "Declan's dead. The digital-detox retreat doesn't matter anymore."

"Maybe we should go get our phones and check," Liam suggests. "The safe has to be in her room, right?"

"Are we sure that's a good idea?" Eden nibbles her glossy lip, glances at the front door. "What if you're wrong, and she'll be back any minute?"

Eden deferring to authority? To the woman she drugged last night, no less? Odd. But she's quickly overruled.

"Let's go," Piper orders, pushing back hard with her feet, scooting the bench on her side back a few inches. We may not like Piper, but we know a good idea when we see one.

A minute later we crowd before Silva's door. No one will make the first move to charge into the sacred space, so I shove to the front and do the honors. Silva isn't here to get mad at us for invading her privacy.

Inside is a cushy suite with a down-covered king bed, a living-room space, and even a kitchenette tucked into the corner. The modern amenities missing from the main floor are all here: flat-screen TV, charging station for iPads and phone, and a desktop computer.

Eden makes a beeline for the computer, violently shaking the mouse, then jabbing the screen button with a manicured finger. After a moment, the computer gives a friendly ding and the screen flares to life.

"I can't tell if it's connected. Who has a freaking PC?" Eden clicks desperately around the tray. Wyatt rushes over to help, gently nudging Eden aside so he can sit down. I used to be annoyed that he made gaming his entire personality, but he always comes in clutch to play IT help desk. Though I wonder if part of his willingness to help is him trying to show off a bit. Rescue the damsel and whatnot. Wyatt is the epitome of desperate. He flirts with Willa, for god's sake.

While Wyatt plays tech wizard, I search the room for the safe Ms. Silva mentioned. It's easy to spot: sitting atop a short bookcase by the TV is a small metal box, straight from a movie, with a silver-and-black number pad on the front. Don't they say that with a 1-to-9 keypad there are millions of potential combinations?

The others have noticed my find. Willa and Camille come up behind me. Camille gives the safe a whack.

"It's metal, genius. Hitting it won't help," I rib her.

"Maybe I'm just in the mood to hit something," she grumbles.

"Look to see which keys are the most worn," Willa instructs. "That's what they do on TV."

Much as I hate to take direction from Willa, she's got a point. I get on my knees and look up at the keys at an angle, trying to spot fingerprints or worn numbers. I think maybe the five looks smudged, but the light in here sucks. And I don't have my phone, so no flashlight. I make a mental note to check the house for one later.

"The network is definitely down" comes Wyatt's voice from above. He's left the computer, and Eden has now deposited herself onto the love seat with a pout.

Liam picks up a remote from a side table, aims it at the TV. It blinks on to a news report.

Elated gasps fill the air. It's not the internet or our phones, but any link to the outside world is manna from heaven. A well-coiffed blond and a washed-up frat boy sit behind a sleek news desk discussing the storm. The female anchor is mid-speech.

"Residents should expect another twenty-four to forty-eight hours of heavy snowfall, with power outages likely. This storm is tracking to be one of the worst in Colorado history, with several feet of snow expected in the Denver metro area and more expected in the Front Range and mountains."

Her partner jumps in. "Winds may be as high as forty to sixty miles per hour, and travel will be significantly impacted by the storm. Authorities are advising residents to stay inside, as visibility—"

The screen shudders to black, and several people scream.

"Must be satellite TV," I say, given the lights are still on. "It cuts out in shitty weather." I peer up at the ceiling, as if it will reveal the sky to me. I imagine swirling white snowflakes descending upon us. Then I bring my focus back to this room, and the safe.

"We need a code to open this thing." I state the obvious. Liam frowns, drops to his knees beside me to take a crack at it.

"Zero-seven-five-two," says someone behind us. I whip around. Piper.

"How do you know that?" I snap, instantly suspicious.

Piper holds up a binder with her good hand and says, "House instructions. Found it in the bedside table drawer."

Liam taps in the numbers. There's a beep and a click as the safe accepts the code. He opens the door and peers inside. "Uh, we have a problem."

"What?" I crane my neck to peer inside the safe. All I see is black.

Liam's brow furrows. "Ms. Silva is a liar."