Page 19 of The Unknown

“I’m afraid so,” Brad says. “Ronan’s orders.”

“Speaking of Ronan, have you seen him?”

Brad points to the ceiling. “He’s in his room upstairs. Last door on the left.”

I retreat back down the hall and head to the stairs, taking them two at a time. There’s another hallway here, tighter than the one downstairs. Hotter, too. The narrow walls and low ceiling trap the late-August heat, making the place stuffier than an attic. Beads of sweat form on my brow as I turn left, heading for the closed door at the end of hall.

Before knocking, I pause to collect my thoughts. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Ronan. It’s probably not a good idea to say anything. But I have too many questions and concerns to remain silent. Whether it’s wise or not, I knock.

Ronan answers the door immediately, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. A faint hint of a smile that lets me know he’s been anticipating my arrival.

“Why did you hire me?” I blurt out. Not the smoothest move.

“Because you’re a great actress.”

“But you’ve never seen me act. You’ve only seen me tell a ghost story.”

“Which is all I needed to make an informed decision,” Ronan says.

“But it’s such a big part.”

“Are you saying you no longer want to do it?”

“I’m not sure Icando it,” I say, which—let’s be honest—is my real concern, despite still being pissed at Susie and having lingering questions about LG’s departure.

“Then why did you audition?”

“Because I didn’t think I’d get cast.”

Ronan opens the door wider in silent invitation. I peek inside, where several oil lamps illuminate a space the same size as my entire cottage. The master suite, most likely. It’s broken up into several smaller rooms that lead into each other. Sitting room. Bedroom. Bathroom that’s larger and fancier than my own, but no less old-fashioned. All the windows are open, the fresh air a coolish balm against the unrelenting heat of the hallway.

After I enter, Ronan leaves the door open. A small but important sign that Susie’s wrong and he doesn’t plan on seducing me or the other way around. Next he closes the door to the bedroom, another gentlemanly gesture that puts me at ease. When I drop into a chair in the sitting room, he takes the one farthest away from me.

“Marin, it doesn’t matter if you think you can do it,” he says. “What matters is thatIthink you can.”

“Why did the actress previously cast as Daisy quit?” I say.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because she texted me today.”

Ronan’s mouth forms a perfect O of surprise. He might have been expecting me, but he clearly wasn’t expecting this. “Lindy texted you?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes,” Ronan says. “Lindy Garrett.”

The name doesn’t sound familiar, making me assume she’s just like me. An unknown whose initials are stitched on the velvet bag in which my phone now rests. I wonder if she’s sent more texts—and what they say.

“She told me I’d regret coming to the island,” I say. “Why would she do that?”

“Likely because she’s pissed about being fired,” Ronan says.

“I was told she dropped out.”

“Because that’s nicer than saying Loretta got rid of her.”

The news lands like a grenade. “Wait.Lorettafired her?”