Page 42 of Obscurity (Pros and Cons Mysteries #5)

F rom Olive’s hiding spot behind an old gas station, she studied the house where Brad was staying, noting the layout, the windows, the potential entry points.

She’d had just enough time to go back to the tent. She’d changed her shoes, grabbed a black hat and a black hoodie. She’d slipped them on only once she was in the woods.

She counted at least two figures moving around inside—dark silhouettes visible through the large windows.

Both appeared to be in what looked like a living area on the first floor.

The back of the house faced the forest, providing cover for approach but also eliminating her ability to see if there were additional occupants.

This is insane, she told herself. Breaking into a house with unknown hostiles inside, no backup, no communication.

But if there was even a chance that Chloe or Becca were being held inside . . .

Olive waited another five minutes, timing the movements of the figures and noting their patterns.

The people on the first floor now seemed to be stationary—probably watching television or working at a computer.

The back door was her best option. It faced away from the festival grounds and was partially concealed by an expensive- looking deck with outdoor furniture that would provide additional cover.

That was how she’d get inside.

Her muscles tensed as she readied herself to move.

Moving through the trees, Olive approached the house from the rear.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she crossed the open ground between the forest and the building, expecting shouts or alarm bells at any moment.

The back door was locked, but it was a standard residential deadbolt—nothing she couldn’t pick. Her dad had taught her that skill.

Within thirty seconds, the mechanism clicked, disengaging.

She slipped inside and found herself in a mudroom that connected to the kitchen.

The contrast between this space and the festival conditions was jarring. It had granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and even fresh flowers in expensive vases.

This was where the festival money had really gone. But why? Why pour money into a house at this location? It wasn’t prime vacation property.

Voices drifted from the front of the house—two men discussing something in low tones in what appeared to be the living room.

Olive caught fragments, something about “schedules,” “the next group,” and “containment protocols.”

She moved toward a staircase, her shoes silent on the hardwood floors. If there was evidence to be found, it would likely be in an office or study—somewhere Brad conducted business. She needed to start upstairs. Downstairs was too risky.

The first room at the top of the stairs was clearly a primary bedroom, expensively furnished but empty. The second was a guest room, also vacant. The third door opened into a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a luxury spa.

But the fourth door revealed exactly what she’d been hoping for—a bedroom with an office space in the corner. There was a large desk, filing cabinets, and multiple computer monitors that displayed what appeared to be security feeds from around the festival grounds.

Olive slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.

She needed to start searching.

But before she even made it to the desk, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Heavy footsteps. Climbing steadily toward the second floor.

Panic raced through her.

She looked around for a hiding spot or alternative exit, but she only saw one door.

The footsteps came closer, accompanied by, “I just need to grab something.”

Olive pressed herself against the wall behind the door, praying she wouldn’t be found.

But as the footsteps paused right outside her door, she realized she might have just walked into the very trap she’d been trying to avoid.