One of the old rules, keep hiding after the seeker gave up. Rolling into the next round.

  Rozie doesn’t mention that she thought she heard Ben and Riley talking.

  Seven o’clock chirped away merrily on Rozie’s phone. She had forgotten to turn it off for their vacation—not that it mattered usually. Little Lowry had nestled down against her bladder pretty firmly as it was. She sighed, not angry or resentful. She had gotten enough rest—not a lot, but enough.

  Rozie heaved herself onto her feet and shuffled to the bathroom. Sweaty flannel clung to her skin. She peeled off the nightgown and started the shower… again. Standing at the pedestal sink waiting for the water, Rozie poked, prodded, pulled, and studied her face. She had been independent since nineteen but hadn’t felt like an adult until twenty-five. Now? Now, she was a mom. Tired eyes. Those faint, new creases in her skin, on the forehead and around her mouth. Rozie frowned and watched them deepen into chasms. Her gaze fell on the hinges to the left of the mirror. A medicine cabinet. She succumbed to the mild swell of curiosity and pulled on the mirror. Empty, no surprise. Just like every other hotel cabinet.

  Hot water warmed the air invitingly, despite the sulfuric aroma. She doubted the springs would be a popular resort no matter how well they marketed. Not with everyone and everything smelling like old broccoli.

  Dom was still asleep when she dressed, tangled up in the bedding. Neither had slept well. They had spent the night kicking and stirring in their restlessness. The details of her nightmare had gone fuzzy, but she remembered the feeling of the hand on her stomach, every bony digit of the large hand.

  As the sunrise gave way to full light behind the curtains, she wondered what the Burkes had planned for the day. She was along for the ride, but she needed to pace herself. Rozie rummaged in her day bag for the novel she had brought until she remembered leaving it in the car. Dom’s pants lay on the floor in a heap at the foot of the bed. She fished around in his pockets until she found the keys.

  As hard as she tried, the old lock still clacked loudly as she turned the key. Silence filled the second floor of the hotel wing as she padded down to the main house. She didn’t hear any of the others in the night, and Rozie wondered if Burke had spread them out.

  In daylight, the old mansion appeared cheerier. The endless wood paneling felt warm and homely, more inviting than the night before. Rozie leaned on the railing as she descended the main stairs. She stopped at the platform sticking out from the landing. Cast in the orange glow, she appreciated the craftsmanship put into the old house. Artists had integrated small frescoes of landscapes into the walls, resembling scenes outside. The same wood molding that lined the ceilings framed each image. As she passed out of the immense stair hall, she glanced back at the reception desk where a young man now stood. He nodded a greeting.

  Twin reflections flashed in the opposing mirrors as she passed, but Rozie refused the look at them. She was busy making a new human. Glamorous makeup or stylish clothing was optional at best. The stained-glass doors of the vestibule stood open. She tried to imagine what they looked like illuminated by the sunrise. Rozie sheepishly pushed her way out of the large front door, but it swung on its hinges with surprising ease.

  Their car felt odd, out of place, parked in front of the old mansion. The scene seemed frozen in time except for their white Toyota. No doubt, if the others had driven, then luxury trucks and high-end German sports cars would have lined the curb like in some hip-hop music video.

  She shook her head and unlocked the crossover. Her book lay on top of the dashboard, already warm from the sun. Rozie closed the door and looked around. In the full light, the clearing looked less menacing. The old barn looked sad in the sun’s wash, not threatening. She saw a line of old fences jutting out of the tall grass. A lot of fences. A lot of pens. Too small to be cattle. She pictured a herd of sheep grazing between the farm and mansion.

  Rozie tucked the book under an arm, locked the car, and strode back to the house—the remarkable mansion so out of place in the middle of East Texas.

  Her feet wandered back into the library. The thought of reading brought back the image of the rows of antique books. More self-conscious, she clasped her hands behind her back as she studied the titles. Though the cabinets were unlocked after all.

  Most titles were unfamiliar, but after a few paces, one grabbed her attention. The gilded design had faded mostly, but the words were still legible. . Below the title, the spine bore a portrait of Captain Nemo, hands on the wheel of the Nautilus. Her breath fogged up the glass. Rozie glanced over her shoulder. Since coming back indoors, aromas had emanated from the kitchen, but she had seen no staff.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She pulled open the cabinet door and plucked the book from the shelf. The cover material was a rich shade of green. Carefully, she opened the cover and turned the pages. Illustrations dotted the book—painstakingly detailed etchings. Rozie closed it, but held it just a moment longer. It had been years since she had read anything by Jules Verne. Reluctantly, she opened the cabinet door again. As she set it on the shelf, she noticed the blackened edges of the pages. She had attributed the darker green of the spine to age or sunlight, but as she turned the book in her hand, she wondered. Lifting it to her nose, she smelled the familiar salty vanilla of old books, but beneath it was a hint of smoke. Reluctantly, she placed it back on the shelf.

  Her stomach pinched as the smell of breakfast grew noticeably stronger. Rozie sighed as she spun in place, taking in the vast collection.

  .

  To her surprise, the large dining table had vanished. A dozen small tables had replaced it. She was so preoccupied at the library, she hadn’t noticed the change.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” said a voice behind her. A middle-aged woman stepped forward from the kitchen door. The hotel will serve breakfast and lunch buffet style so guests can come and go as they wish. Mr. Burke asked that every come to dinner at seven o’clock this evening. What would you like to drink? Coffee?” she asked, though her eyes dipped to Rozie’s midsection for a split second.

  The rich aroma of coffee wove through all the other smells—definitely on the list after the baby was born.

  “Do you have any juice?”

  The server nodded and returned to the kitchen.

  At the buffet, Rozie surveyed the scrambled eggs, laced with mushrooms and bell pepper. Another chafing dish contained thick sausages—the proper kind, unlike at a typical continental breakfast. An assortment of beautiful breads and pastries filled a large platter on the end. She filled her plate but not too high. In the last month or so, she had to resort to eating less, but more often.

  Rozie chose a seat close to the solarium. Through the French doors, she could see the vivid greenery dappled with flowers of various colors. She stabbed at eggs with her fork and plucked the bookmark from her page and read while she ate.

  Half of the plate was empty by the time Dom meandered into the dining hall. Just as soon as plopped down into his seat, the server arrived with a large mug of steaming coffee. Rozie chuckled as Dominic took a long gulp.

  Dom groaned. “I haven’t drunk like that since last Thanksgiving with my brothers.”

  Dom’s youngest brother, Peter, had devised a drinking game based on a late-night comedy show. A shot every time the special guest obviously read from the teleprompter. Another, whenever it turned political. They all got pretty smashed. Now she and Dom had Little Lowry as proof.

  Rozie gestured at the buffet. “Go get some food. They have sausage like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She was still annoyed with him from the night before, but he’d have the chance to make it up to her with midnight diaper changes

  Dom rose. “There was a note slid under the door when I got up.” He dug a cream-colored piece of folded stationery with the resort’s logo, an ornate WS, embossed on the top flap.

  As Dom got himself food, Rozie skimmed the contents. An itinerary—ten o’clock, skeet shooting for the and massages for down by the pool, the kitchen would begin serving lunch at noon, and dinner—formal, at seven.

  “Is that even a good idea? You know, out in the sun. Dehydrated and hungover? With loud guns?” She asked as he dropped back into his chair.

  Dom just glared over the top of his mug.

  “Oh, before I forget—” Rozie tugged the car keys from her dress pocket and dropped them in front of her husband. He picked them up and put them in his pocket.

  “Left my book in the car.”

  Just Dom brought an entire link to his mouth, Conrad strode into the dining hall. Dressed in preppy casual, it was apparent to Rozie, he had been up not much later than her. He waved as he approached.

  “That’s a good look for you, Dominatrix.”

  Dominic sneered as he bit off half the sausage.

  “So, still no Riley?”

  “Probably still hiding,” Dom said before shoving the other half into his mouth. “Must have found a pretty good hiding spot.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Rozie asked. Last night’s commotion returned to her as though through a fog.

  Conrad cleared his throat and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, balled into fists. The mannerisms put Rozie on edge. “Back in the day, we, uh, used to play an extreme version of hide and seek.”

  “How extreme?” Rozie asked.

  “We’d get an hour to hide, sometimes more.”

  “It’d take so long to find everyone, we’d pack food with us, just in case,” her husband said with a nostalgic smile.

  “We had the run of the entire school. Almost—most of the staff lived there.”

  Dom read the surprise written on her face. “A couple of cooks too. They wouldn’t let a bunch of rich kids starve.”

  “But didn’t you have computers or—or jobs or something?”

  Conrad and Dominic looked at each other. Conrad shrugged.

  “My mom paid just enough for me to stay there for the entire year. Not a cent more for a car or even public transportation. An all-inclusive education resort.”

  “Prison more like it.” Dom said ruefully, as his mirth faded.

  The words hung in the air, teetering on the edge of discomfort.

  Rozie broke the silence. “So Riley’s still hiding? Should we keep looking for him?”

  “He’ll come out. Eventually. Maybe he just fell asleep somewhere after drinking that liquor.”

  “I said nothing crazy. Only the public spaces. He’s probably holed up in the attic somehow. Staff is on the lookout.”

  The server reappeared with coffee for Conrad. Rozie stared at the streak of grease on her plate until her attention drifted to her novel, open face-down on the table where she had placed it. A thought, like a loose thread, yanked from her subconscious. She squinted, trying to unravel the thought. Her book. In their car out front.

  “I went to get my book before breakfast. I just realized that Riley’s car was gone this morning.”