Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

Keeping his weapon steady he sidestepped to the bed and
put his hand on the mattress. The sheets were warm. He
backed up a step and touched the cot. It was cool, but canvas
did not retain body heat in the same way that cotton sheets did.
He had no way of telling if someone had lain on it ten minutes
or ten hours ago. Then again, he had never been in this room
so he didn’t know if this was standard operating procedure
because Emily was ambulatory. Maybe the night girl had the
cot ready in case her party friend didn’t show. Maybe Amelia
used it during the day. Not that it mattered. Nobody was using
it now.
The wind cracked and howled again, the rain beat against
the glass of the tall window where he had often looked up to
see the beautiful, mindless woman staring out at nothing. It
bugged him that she’d given him the slip, but he wasn’t overly
concerned. She wouldn’t last long out there. Even if she did,
what in the heck could she tell anyone? She was an idiot, as
good as deaf, blind, and dumb. Johnson walked to the window.
His gun now dangled from his hand. The night girl’s car and
her friend’s were watery images on the drive.
He started back through the house, still bothered that Emily
was nowhere to be found. He hated loose ends. By the time he
got to the back door, Johnson had worked himself into a good
snit worthy of Bernard Reynolds.
***
The staircase was built into a pocket of space between the
inside and outside wall. What Josie had assumed were
windows to the interior of the house were really additions to
the façade at the back of the house.
“What is this place?” Josie whispered.
“The servants used it in the old days,” Amelia answered.
“Come on, Emily. Just a little more.”
“Who else knows it’s here?” Josie asked.