Chapter Six
The entire inn had bustled in a flurry of activity.
Perhaps a few of her guests had frozen at the plain horror of that scream, but the formerly prim and proper Aileen had somehow known.
Looking back, she’d always had a very keen intuitive sense. And her intuition had been ringing an alarm in her head ever since Martha Smith had enquired after her husband.
Maybe it was because of the preparedness that intuition brought, or perhaps it was her quick reflexes, but Aileen was flying up the stairs before Martha had hit the floor.
It was a terrifying scream, more sinister than a wolf’s howl.
The door to the bedroom was pushed wide open, and in the doorway lay the prone figure of Martha Smith. She’d crumpled, unconscious to the floor.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind Aileen. Whoeve
