Page 46 of Still Missing You

“Neither did I,” I add.

Alvarez makes another note. “Jim said he didn’t hear anything unusual until...?” She lets the silence stretch.

“Until the thud,” Jim says, voice rough. “Sounded like someone falling down the stairs. I... I assumed it was Hunter. By the time I got out there, he was already... you know.” He trails off, shame written all over his face.

Alvarez turns to Hunter. “Jim says he didn’t see or hear anyone else. For all he knew, there may not have been an intruder at all. Just a bad fall.”

The room stills.

Hunter straightens, pain or anger sharpening his features; I’m not sure which. “There was someone in our room.”

Jim winces. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. Just that I didn’t see—”

“I was awake,” Hunter cuts in. “I saw him from the bathroom. A figure, standing over Dylan while he slept. It was dark, but he was there. When I yelled, he moved. I tackled him in the hall, but he got away from me. When I went after him, my knee gave out on the stairs.”

Alvarez studies him carefully. “You couldn’t identify the person?”

“No,” Hunter shakes his head. “Too dark.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“Did you recognize his build? Height? Anything at all?”

Hunter shakes his head again, frustration bleeding through his control. “Just... a man. That’s all I’ve got. It all happened so fast.”

Jim clears his throat. “I’m so sorry. If I’d heard something sooner—”

Alvarez lifts a hand. “You did what you could with the information you had.” She looks back at us. “We checked your room this morning. No forced entry. No obvious disturbance. Whoever was in there knew what he was looking for.”

I swallow. “Matthew’s camera bag is gone.” When Hunter was staying overnight in the hospital, I popped back to our room for a quick shower and change of clothes and noticed it was gone.

Her gaze flicks to me. “Camera bag?”

“Yes,” I say. “Black. Expensive. It was in our room last night. It’s gone. It belonged to a friend, and he’s missing too.” I feel Hunter stiffen beside me.

Jim’s face drains of color. “I... I had no idea.”

Alvarez’s pen scratches faster now. “That’s important. Thank you for telling me.”

Jim swallows hard. “Listen, I can’t say how bad I feel. I know this doesn’t fix anything, but we’ll comp part of your stay. Whatever you need.”

Hunter nods stiffly, and Alvarez snaps her notebook shut. “I’ll be in touch. If you remember anything else, anything at all, call me.” She hands Hunter a card, then turns to Jim. “I’ll need Nancy to come down to the station when she’s back.”

When the door closes behind the detective, the inn feels quieter than it should. Like it’s listening. Jim mumbles another apology and retreats to the back, leaving us standing in the lobby with our thoughts and the soft tick of the old clock on the wall.

Together, we slowly head upstairs. Hunter grips the banister, each step measured. I stay close, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

Inside our room, nothing looks disturbed. Bed made. Curtains half-drawn. But the absence is obvious. Matthew’s bag is gone, and if Hunter hadn’t uploaded the files for Matthew’s film onto his laptop, any evidence of what Matthew had been working on would be gone too.

Hunter lowers himself onto the bed and slips a pillow under his knee.

I frown and take a step toward him. “Is your knee bothering you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m just making sure to rest it, following the doctor’s orders.”

My gaze narrows, and I’m not sure if I believe him. “Do you need ice?”