Chapter 6 The Rosewood Inn (Evelyn's POV)

Daniel's SUV smelled like leather and gun oil, a combination I found strangely comforting as we drove through the silent streets of Hollow's End.

The Rosewood Inn sat at the edge of town, a three-story Victorian painted cream and burgundy that had somehow escaped the decay claiming the rest of Hollow's End. Roses climbed the front porch railings, their blooms impossibly vibrant against the morning gray.

Daniel parked in the gravel lot and killed the engine. Neither of us moved.

"Room twelve," he said finally, pulling a key card from his jacket pocket and handing it to me. "Second floor, facing the woods."

I took the card, our fingers brushing. The contact sent an unwelcome jolt through me. "What room are you in?"

"Eleven. Right next door."

Of course he was. "Keeping an eye on me?"

"Keeping you alive." He pushed open his door, ending the conversation. "Come on. I'll help you get settled."

The inn's lobby was deserted, save for an elderly woman behind the desk who barely glanced up as we passed. Daniel had already checked me in, already arranged everything with his quiet efficiency that felt both protective and suffocating.

We climbed the narrow staircase in silence, my bag slung over Daniel's shoulder despite my protests. The hallway on the second floor was papered in faded florals, the carpet worn but clean. Doors eleven and twelve sat side by side at the end of the hall, identical save for their brass numbers.

Daniel unlocked my room and stepped inside first, his hand near his weapon. Always cautious. Always prepared for danger.

The room was small but clean—a double bed with a patchwork quilt, a writing desk by the window, a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. Nothing like my childhood home, but also nothing like the bloodstained mirror I'd left behind.

"It's fine," I said, setting my bag on the bed.

Daniel moved to the window, checking the lock, testing the frame. "Windows are secure. Keep them locked. Don't open the door unless you know who's on the other side."

"I'm not a child, Daniel."

"No, you're a target." He turned to face me, and his expression was harder than I'd seen it. "Someone is escalating. The mirror message, the timing, the personal nature of it—they're getting bolder. Which means they're getting closer."

A chill ran down my spine. "You think they'll come after me directly?"

"We can't rule it out." He pulled a business card from his wallet and set it on the desk. "My number. You call me if anything happens. Anything at all. Strange sounds, unexpected visitors, bad feelings. I don't care if it seems paranoid."

I picked up the card, reading the FBI seal and his name printed in stark black letters. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's my job."

"No, I mean really. Why do you care if something happens to me?" I met his eyes. "You've made it clear you think I'm connected to the murders somehow. Wouldn't it be easier if I just disappeared?"

Daniel was quiet for a long moment, studying me with that intensity that made me feel exposed. "My brother was twenty-three when he died. He'd gotten involved with something he didn't understand, something dark. I told him to walk away, but he thought he could handle it." His jaw tightened. "I found his body three days later. By then, it was too late to save him."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just stay alive." He moved toward the door, then paused. "I'm going to get some supplies. Lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone."

"How long will you be gone?"

"An hour or less. The general store is ten minutes away." He handed me his room key. "If something happens and you can't reach me by phone, you go into my room and lock yourself in. Understand?"

I nodded, clutching both key cards in my hand.

Daniel left without another word, his footsteps fading down the hallway. I locked the door as instructed, then stood in the middle of the strange room, feeling unmoored. The silence pressed in from all sides, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the nightstand.

Three seventeen. The same time I'd woken to the bloody mirror.

I sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion finally catching up with me. My body ached, my eyes burned, and my mind felt like it was fraying at the edges. Everything that had happened since returning to Hollow's End felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

You were supposed to save me.

My mother's words, my failure, now written in blood for everyone to see.

A knock on the door made me jump.

"Evelyn. It's Jonas."

My heart stuttered. I moved to the door but didn't unlock it. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. Please."

His voice was different than it had been at my house—quieter, stripped of anger. Just Jonas, my oldest friend, the boy who'd held my hand at my mother's funeral when no one else would.

Against my better judgment, I unlocked the door.

Jonas stood in the hallway still in uniform, but he'd removed his sheriff's badge and utility belt. He looked tired, older than his thirty-one years, with dark circles under his eyes that matched my own.

"Can I come in?"

I stepped aside, leaving the door open. Jonas entered slowly, taking in the sparse room with a grimace.

"Ward set you up here?"

"For my protection, apparently."

"Right next to his room, I bet." Jonas's mouth twisted. "How convenient."

"Don't start."

"Start what?" He turned to face me, and there was raw pain in his eyes. "Evie, I'm not the enemy here. I know you think I wrote that message, but I swear to God I didn't."

"I never said..."

"You didn't have to. The way you looked at me when you mentioned only family knowing about your mother's last words." He took a step closer. "Do you really believe I could do that to you?"

I wanted to say no immediately, to reassure him with the certainty of our shared history. But Daniel's suspicions had planted seeds of doubt I couldn't ignore.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," I admitted quietly.

Jonas flinched as if I'd struck him. "After everything we've been through. After everything I've done for your family."

"That's not fair. You're the one who told me I should never have come back."

"Because I knew this would happen!" His voice rose, frustration bleeding through. "I knew the town would turn on you, that old wounds would open, that you'd get hurt. I was trying to protect you."

"By making me feel unwelcome?"

"By making you leave before it was too late. But you're here now, and people are dying, and that federal agent is circling you like you're already guilty."

"Daniel is just doing his job."

"Daniel." Jonas's expression hardened. "You're on a first-name basis already."

"He's investigating me. What am I supposed to call him?"

"You could call him what he is—a threat." Jonas moved closer, "He doesn't know you like I do, Evie. He doesn't understand this town, the history, what your family went through. He just sees evidence and suspects."

"Maybe that's what I need right now. Someone objective."

"Objective?" Jonas laughed bitterly. "There's nothing objective about the way he looks at you."

Heat crept up my neck. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." His eyes searched mine. "I saw it in your kitchen. The way he positioned himself between us. The way he's keeping you close under the guise of protection." Jonas's voice dropped lower. "He wants you, Evie. And maybe you want him too."

"That's ridiculous."

He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek with heartbreaking tenderness. "You're choosing him over me. Again."

"I never chose anyone over you, Jonas. I left. I left everyone."

"You left me." The words came out broken. "We were supposed to stay together, remember? We had plans. College, a life outside this town. But then your mom died, and your dad got sick, and you just... disappeared."

Guilt twisted like a knife in my chest. "I couldn't stay. You know I couldn't."

"You could have if you'd wanted to." His hand fell away. "You could have trusted me with the truth about what happened that day. About why you waited so long to call for help."

"I was nine years old and traumatized."

"You were scared of something. Something you won't talk about even now." Jonas's gaze intensified. "What did you see in that barn, Evie? What really happened?"

Before I could answer, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. The door, still ajar, swung open wider.

Daniel stood in the doorway holding grocery bags, his gray eyes cold as winter as they took in the scene, Jonas standing too close, my face flushed, the intimate tension crackling between us.

"Sheriff Hale." Daniel's voice could have frozen blood. "I wasn't aware Ms. Cross was expecting visitors."

"I wasn't aware she needed your permission." Jonas didn't move, didn't step back. "Last I checked, Evelyn could see whoever she wanted."

"Last I checked, this was protective custody." Daniel entered the room, setting the bags on the desk with deliberate precision. "Which means unauthorized visitors are a security risk."

"Unauthorized?" Jonas's laugh was sharp. "I'm the sheriff of this town."

"You're also a person of interest in an active investigation." Daniel moved between us again, that same territorial positioning from my kitchen. "Which makes your presence here highly inappropriate."

Jonas's jaw clenched. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious about my investigations." Daniel's tone was flat, professional, utterly dismissive. "Now if you'll excuse us, Ms. Cross needs to rest. She's had a traumatic morning."

"Ms. Cross." Jonas looked at me, hurt and anger warring in his expression. "Is that what he calls you?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Daniel cut me off.

"What I call her is none of your concern. What is your concern is leaving before I decide to make your person-of-interest status official." His hand rested casually near his holstered weapon. "I'd hate to have to bring you in for questioning, Sheriff. Wouldn't look good for the department."

Jonas's hands curled into fists at his sides, and for a moment I thought he might actually take a swing at Daniel.

"Jonas, don't," I said quickly. "Please."

He looked at me, and the betrayal in his eyes cut deeper than any accusation. "You're really going to let him throw me out?"

"I'm just tired. I need to rest."

"Right. Rest." He backed toward the door, his movements jerky with barely contained rage. "Enjoy your protection, Evie. Hope it keeps you warm at night."

Then he was gone, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame.

The silence he left behind felt suffocating. I couldn't look at Daniel, couldn't face the reality of what had just happened. I'd chosen Daniel's cold protection over Jonas's desperate affection, and we both knew it.

"That was unnecessary," I said finally.

"That was necessary." Daniel began unpacking the grocery bags with clinical efficiency. "He was alone with you, standing too close, clearly agitated. That's a risk I can't allow."

"He's not dangerous."

"Everyone's dangerous given the right motivation." He pulled out bottled water, protein bars, instant coffee. "And Sheriff Hale has plenty of motivation where you're concerned."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Daniel turned to face me, and something flickered in his expression, something almost like jealousy, quickly suppressed. "It means he's in love with you. Has been for years, by my estimation. And people in love do irrational things when they feel threatened."

"Threatened by what?"

"By me." He said it simply, like stating a fact. "By my investigation, my presence, my proximity to you. He sees me as competition."

Heat flooded my face again. "That's absurd. There's no competition. You're investigating me."

"I'm protecting you."

"Same thing, apparently."

"Not quite." Daniel moved closer, and I caught a whiff of his aftershave mixed with coffee and leather. "If I was just investigating you, I'd have you in an interview room right now, not in a safe location with supplies and protection."

"Then what am I to you?" The question escaped before I could stop it. "A suspect or a victim?"

He studied me for a long moment, his gray eyes unreadable. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

The honesty of his answer disarmed me. I'd expected deflection, professional distance, maybe another accusation. Instead, he'd given me truth.

"The supplies are enough for three days," he said, stepping back and breaking the moment. "After that, I'll get more. Don't leave the room unless I'm with you. Don't open the door for anyone. If Sheriff Hale comes back, call me immediately."

"You can't keep me prisoner here."

"I'm keeping you alive." He moved toward the door connecting our rooms—a door I hadn't noticed before. He unlocked it from my side, revealing his own room beyond. "This stays unlocked. If you need anything, knock. I'll hear you."

The implication of our proximity sent an uncomfortable thrill through me. I shoved it down, refusing to examine it.

"Get some rest," Daniel said. "I have calls to make, reports to file. The forensics team should have preliminary results from your house by this evening."

"And then what?"

"Then we figure out who wants you dead and why." He paused in the doorway between our rooms. "And we make sure they don't succeed."

After he disappeared into his room, I locked my door to the hallway and sat on the bed, trembling. The confrontation with Jonas played on repeat in my mind—his hurt, his accusations, the way he'd looked at me like I'd betrayed him.

You're choosing him over me. Again.

But I hadn't chosen Daniel. I'd simply accepted his protection because I was scared and exhausted and had nowhere else to go. That wasn't the same as choosing him.

Was it?

Through the thin wall, I could hear Daniel's voice as he made his calls. The sound was oddly comforting, knowing he was right there. Close enough to help if something happened. Close enough to hear if I screamed.

Close enough to make Jonas's jealousy seem almost justified.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and tried not to think about the warmth in Jonas's eyes when he'd touched my face. Tried not to compare it to the cold intensity in Daniel's gaze when he'd stepped between us.

Tried not to wonder which one frightened me more.