JJ, PENNY, AND JJ’s mom walked into the dining room, and it was a sight to see.

Each of the suspects was sitting at a different table, with Mr. Barclay at his own table too. It looked like the loneliest dinner party in history.

“Well, this is depressing,” JJ’s mom said as she sat at Mr. Barclay’s table.

Penny glanced around the room, looking for her grandpa.

“Where’s Detective Walker?” JJ’s mom asked, as if she was reading Penny’s mind. “He wouldn’t skip this meal—he’s been talking about the veal since we got here.”

“No veal, I’m sorry to say,” Mr. Barclay said. “With all this snow trapping us here, the chef had to resort to breakfast foods.”

As if on cue, Chef Pierre swung open the doors pushing a dinner cart that was holding a serving plate piled with waffles, alongside trimmings like strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate. JJ and Penny sat up. This was a kid’s dream meal.

“I still don’t see my grandpa,” Penny muttered before digging into her food.

Mr. Barclay seemed to be looking for the detective as well. He checked his pocket watch. “I spoke with Detective Walker just an hour ago.”

Penny felt a sense of dread, but said, “I think I’ll go look for him. JJ, guard my waffles until I come back.” JJ nodded with a mouth full of food.

She left the sad dining room, and she headed for the basement of the hotel, thinking that she’d find her grandpa relaxing in the pool or hot tub. But both were deserted, the bubbles of the hot tub just on standby under the water’s surface.

This was odd. Where could her grandpa have gone?

The library was empty (no Emma, either—Penny could’ve used a friend), and so was the carousel room. Penny still got the shivers when she thought of how that thing went totally bananas.

But her grandpa was nowhere to be found. Not even in the Cupcake Shoppe or the bowling alley.

Penny’s search ended in the den, the one that overlooked the white landscape. It was dark, but the moonlight reflecting off the snow was brightening the room. Snow was still coming down, almost as if to tell Penny that she was never leaving the Barclay Hotel. Not that she minded. But she sure would feel better if she could find her grandpa.

She walked closer to the big window and peered outside. Penny had looked all over the inside of the hotel, but what if Grandpa was outside? She scanned the snowy landscape outside and saw the faintest set of footprints. Normal, adult-size ones but also really big ones with toes pointing outward, like they belonged to a big man.

Or rather: to a man in cowboy boots.

What if Buck Jones was the killer, and he’d lured her grandpa outside? He could freeze to death out there.

Penny looked down at her flimsy tennis shoes, ones that were better suited to Florida sun than Colorado snow. There wasn’t even time to grab a coat or gloves or a hat. If her grandpa was outside, she had to get to him, and soon. Penny knew she had to be brave.

She opened the door. The top of a snowdrift sprinkled onto the wood floor. She got slammed in the face by the cold and the relentless falling snow. She stepped outside, feeling the flakes quickly coat her skirt as she trudged her way into the knee-high snow.

Penny followed the footsteps, but then they started to disappear. Snow whirled around her like a vortex. And for a split second she saw the hazy outline of a tall, lanky man. The man was dressed in overalls, looking like an old-timey photograph. He was pointing toward the maze.

It was the ghost of Mr. Roberts, the old caretaker of the Barclay estate. Penny had read about him too in The History of the Barclay Hotel.

Penny took her eyes off him for just a second to blink, and when she opened them again, the ghost man was gone.

This could be dangerous. She’d read about the Barclay maze. How back in its day, the maze got guests confused, leaving them lost and wandering for hours. In her summer sneakers and without a coat, this could be a death trap.

But if her grandpa was already in there, the maze was definitely a death trap!

Penny took a deep breath and reminded herself again that this was the time to be brave.

She entered the maze, trying to make sense of the jumble of footprints. She put her hand on the outer wall of the hedge maze—she knew that was one way to make sure you could find your way out. She had read it in a book somewhere, back at the library in Florida.

Florida, where it was something like seventy degrees outside. Penny shivered. Her fingers were quickly going numb as she touched the hedge maze.

Penny walked along the perimeter, until she turned a corner. And there was her grandpa!

The detective was slumped on the ground. His head had a red wound, like someone had smacked him with a hard object. Her grandpa’s eyelashes had tiny icicles on them—he’d been out there awhile.

“Grandpa,” Penny said. She used her icy hands to tap his cheeks. “Wake up!”

The detective didn’t respond.

Penny felt herself panic. “Grandpa!”