Page 51 of Smokescreen

She stood up straighter. She wasn’t stuck up here, she realized. She could call for help. Why hadn’t she already thought of this?

She grabbed the phone from her pocket and hit the screen.

To her dismay, nothing happened. Her stomach sank.

“Oh, come on . . .” She hit the screen again.

Again, nothing.

Her phone had died.

Ofcourse.

She let out a groan. Could the timing be any worse? The lack of cell phone towers in this area drained the battery more quickly than usual.

Why hadn’t Olive told anyone she was coming up here? Probably because she hadn’t thought she’d be stuck in this space.

At least the lights still worked.

As if reading her thoughts, both of the bulbs she’d switched on overhead flickered.

Olive closed her eyes, hoping she hadn’t just jinxed herself.

The flickering stopped, and the pale-yellow lights still scattered dim illumination throughout the room.

Olive wasn’t sure, however, how long that would be the case. If those bulbs burned out, she’d be plunged into total darkness. She wasn’t normally afraid of the dark, but the thought of being trapped up here left her feeling surprisingly unsettled right now.

She stood, paced toward the window, and shoved it open. As soon as she did, rain poured inside. She quickly thrust it down.

In other circumstances, she might climb onto the roof. But it was too slick outside. Staying in the attic was safer than trying to escape on the roof.

The storm would also keep anyone from being outside, so she wouldn’t be able to call for help that way.

Letting out a sigh, Olive turned and glanced around one more time, making sure there was nothing she’d missed. She shivered and rubbed her arms, wishing she’d worn something more than jeans and a sweatshirt.

She’d initially assumed there would probably be more than one way in and out of this attic. The space was so large, how could there not be?

She might as well look around, she supposed.

A shiver captured her as she started toward the opposite end of the house. She tugged on overhead bulbs as she came across them, thankful for the light.

She hadn’t noticed the cold when she’d first come up here. But now it was getting late, and the temperature outside was dropping. The chill in the air had grown more frigid.

If Olive looked hard enough, she could probably find some old blankets or coats if she got desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to resort to that.

She continued walking, glancing at the floor and searching for another entry.

She finally found another one. But when she pushed on the door, this one didn’t budge either.

“Go figure,” she whispered.

She kept walking, not ready to give up yet. She was a highly trained agent. She wasn’t going to let an old attic get the best of her. She’d been in far stickier situations before.

The floor creaked with each step she took, and lightning continued to flash through the windows.

Then a moan sounded behind her.

She jerked her head toward the sound, searching for any signs of movement.