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

O live’s room was located on the second floor overlooking the back of the property, where the manicured grounds gave way to dense forest. Through the window, she spotted a maintenance shed partially hidden among the trees, and beyond that, a trail that disappeared into the woodland shadows.

The accommodations themselves were comfortable—a king bed with a handmade quilt, a writing desk positioned near the window, and rustic furniture that managed to look both authentic and suspiciously pristine—just like Elias’s attire.

Olive set her backpack on the bed and pulled out her cell phone to check for service. She had two bars now—better than she’d expected for a mountain location, but not enough to rely on if things went south.

She checked her texts and call log. Rex hadn’t tried to reach her again.

Maybe he hadn’t had anything urgent to share.

As she stood in the center of the room, Jason’s image fluttered through her mind. He should be arriving any time now.

The kiss the two of them had shared a few months ago had awakened feelings Olive had thought were safely buried.

But the unanswered questions about Jason’s father’s possible connection to her family’s murder still hung between them like a wall of glass—transparent enough to see through, but solid enough to prevent real intimacy.

Focus on the case, she reminded herself. A missing concert organizer. Chloe’s cryptic message about trees watching. An abandoned mining town that somehow figured into whatever was happening here.

The woman could have fled on her own or had an accident that was being covered up. Perhaps she’d had a conflict with someone who’d done something to her, or it was possible one of her father’s enemies had done something.

Personal complications would have to wait. She had too much to uncover about Chloe first.

Olive locked her laptop in the room’s safe, checked that her backup phone was hidden in her jacket’s inner pocket, and headed back downstairs.

She had work to do and, in her experience, the first twenty-four hours of an investigation were crucial for gathering intelligence before people realized they were being studied.

The main floor of the lodge had filled with more guests during Olive’s brief absence.

She’d done her research and knew several key guests who’d be at the festival.

The first was influencer Maya Riggs, who’d been talking about the event online for the past month. She was a cute blonde who loved attention.

Another was Connor Walsh, a music videographer who’d been hired to document the event. The man, in his early thirties, looked too handsome with his fit build and thick, dark hair to be behind the camera.

Dr. Z was also here. He was one of the financiers who’d donated to the event. He’d made his money as a venture capitalist, but he was a closet rockabilly music fan. He was in his early forties and looked more like an office guy. Plus, she wasn’t sure why people called him Dr. Z.

There were others too. Key people she’d identified before coming.

Would she see any of them here at the lodge?

Olive strolled between guests, calling out a few hellos as she made her way toward the far wall, where dozens of framed photographs documented the lodge’s history.

She paused, hoping to listen in to any nearby conversations.

As she lingered, she glanced at the photos.

There were pictures of smiling guests posed with impressive fish catches, successful hunting parties, and scenic hiking expeditions.

Together they created a visual testament to Pine Ridge Lodge’s reputation as an outdoor paradise.

She moved slowly along the wall, scanning all the pictures. The photos spanned at least twenty years, showing the gradual evolution of outdoor fashion and the lodge’s increasing popularity.

Then she stopped.

Her breath caught as she stared at a photograph tucked among the others—a group shot of what appeared to be a corporate retreat. The caption read “Northwoods Investment Group Annual Planning Session, 2003.”

In the back row, partially obscured by shadow, stood a man who was unmistakably familiar.

In fact, he looked exactly like . . . her father.