Primary Suspect. Susan Peterson

twinkled invitingly in the gathering darkness.

      The windows on the first and second floors spilled a welcoming yellow light on the snowy front lawn. Wreaths and ropes of pine needles still decorated the windows and the railing of the porch.

      In contrast, the upstairs windows, the ones above the second floor, were all dark, giving the upper floors a gloomy, forbidding look. Kylie figured that during the winter months, the third and fourth floors went unoccupied.

      As she stared upward, she was startled to see the face of a small child pressed against the windowpane of one of the fourth-floor windows. Kylie leaned against the dashboard, straining for a clearer look.

      The child’s hair was long and clung close to her head, as if she had just stepped from a shower. She appeared young, age four or five at the most. She waved, her mouth open to reveal an engaging gap in the front.

      Kylie lifted a hand and waved back. She wondered what a small child was doing playing alone in the dark, drafty upper halls of the hotel.

      “Who are you waving at?” Michael asked.

      “A little girl. She’s on the top floor.”

      Michael leaned forward and glanced up at the hotel.

      “I don’t see anyone.”

      “She’s at the sixth window in.”

      Once Michael had rounded the curve to the front entrance, he glanced up again. He shook his head, shooting a quick glance of disbelief in her direction. “There’s no one there, Kylie. You must have seen a shadow.”

      She leaned forward again, her gaze quickly sweeping the length of the top floor. The windows were all empty, the small face pressed to the window moments ago, gone.

      The hair on the back of her neck prickled and an odd uneasiness rushed through her. Had she imagined the face?

      No, she must have miscounted.

      She recounted the window. No face, only eerily dark windows staring down at them.

      “I could have sworn there was a little girl up there,” she protested, not willing to give up so easily.

      “Not possible. We keep the top two floors of the hotel closed off during the winter months—securely locked. The only people who go up there periodically are the maintenance crew to check on the pipes.”

      Kylie strained for another look, but there was nothing. In spite of the heat pouring out of the vents, she shivered.

      Was she seeing things?

      She sat back. What if the dreams, the horrible nightmares that had haunted her for so many years, were now coming to visit her during her waking hours?

      She swallowed against the scream of protest that rose in the back of her throat.

      Perhaps returning to Cloudspin had been a mistake.