Chapter 39

Mary"s heels clicked on the polished floor, a staccato counterpoint to the thumping bass that vibrated through the mansion"s walls. She wove through clusters of laughing guests, each adorned in shimmering fabrics and expensive colognes, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed lighting. She scanned each exuberant face, searching for the one man who had ignited her fury.

"Pete!" she called out, but her voice was swallowed by a new wave of music. He was nowhere in the thrumming sea of bodies. Her jaw set, she stormed past the living room, her eyes raking over the revelers. The kitchen proved just as fruitless—no sign of him amid the clinking glasses and bursts of laughter.

"Damn it," she muttered, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. With a determined pivot, she made her way to the grand staircase, the click of her heels now muffled by the plush carpet runner.

Ascending the stairs, a flicker of memory teased at the edges of her thoughts. It was here, on these very steps, where Pete had charmed her with his mischievous grin and an offer of a private tour during another of his lavish parties.

"Quite a view from the top, isn"t it?" he had whispered, his breath warm against her ear, his hand lightly grazing hers as they reached the landing. That night, under a canopy of stars, their laughter had given way to stolen kisses in the shadows, each touch more daring than the last.

"Your eyes," he"d murmured, tracing the line of her jaw, "They hold secrets and fire."

"Maybe I"ll let you in on them," she teased back, her heart racing as his hands found the small of her back and pulled her close.

Now, as she continued to climb, the ghost of that passion lingered, the heat of his skin, the urgency of his lips pressing into hers, the sensation of being wanted so completely. The memory hung in the air like the faintest scent of cologne, tempting her resolve, promising more forbidden pleasures. But tonight, anger laced her veins, not desire.

"Where are you, Pete?" she whispered to herself, reaching the upper hallway. Her pulse quickened, not from desire but from the frustration boiling within her. Why hadn't he called her afterward? She needed answers, and she would get them.

Mary paused at the top of the stairs, the vibration of music from below softening to a dull pulse. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, an attempt to steady herself—to fortify her will against the memories that threatened to undo her. In the darkness behind her lids, she saw Pete"s face and heard his laughter mixing with the clink of champagne flutes… the taste of bubbles tickling her throat, sweet yet sharp. One glass, two glasses…. Her resolve wavered like a flame in a gentle breeze.

"Damn it," she muttered, her eyelids snapping open. The plush carpet felt cool under her heels as she took a determined step forward. "I"m stronger than this."

"Pete!" Her voice sliced through the muffled beats, wielding frustration like a weapon. Yet beneath the edge of vexation, a note of something softer played—a melody that sang of silk sheets and whispered promises.

"Pete Hancock!" she called again louder, her tone mingling reprimand with a hushed plea. It was a strange duet of emotions: wanting him to hear her anger but also her need. She hated herself for the latter.

"Where are you?" Her voice echoed down the corridor, seeking him out, demanding he face her. Each word was a dance of shadows and light, conveying more than mere annoyance. It was the sound of a woman scorned yet still perilously close to succumbing to the very source of her anger.

"Pete!" She changed her tone. Her voice became a blend of seduction and fury that cut through the bass that throbbed from below. Mary"s hand trembled as she nudged the door wider, the soft glow of the study beckoning her in. "Are you hiding from me?"

The door creaked, protesting her intrusion. She stepped inside, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor, an insistent staccato against the distant rhythm of the party.

"Playing games now, are we?" A smirk danced on her lips though her heart hammered with a cocktail of emotions.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, scanning the room for any sign of Pete. "I know you"re here," she cooed, her voice draping each word in velvet.

Silence greeted her, starkly contrasting the revelry seeping through the walls.

"Pete, this is no time—" Her words caught in her throat as her gaze landed on the figure sprawled across the Persian rug.

"Pete?" The name escaped as a whisper, a ghost of sound.

There he was, motionless, a crimson halo seeping into the intricate patterns beneath him. Mary"s breath hitched, her body rooted to the spot. The world seemed to tilt, reality skewing as she took in the horror before her.

"Pete!" Desperation laced her cry now, raw and ragged. But there was no answer, not even the slightest twitch from the man who had consumed her thoughts.

"Please." It was a plea, a prayer to break the nightmare"s hold. But the silence was unyielding, the truth undeniable.

Tears blurred her vision, fear and disbelief warring within her. Pete, the charmer, the rogue who had stolen her resolve, lay lifeless before her. And Mary stood alone with the echo of a party that suddenly felt worlds away.

Mary"s heart thundered, a drumbeat syncing with the pulse of panic. She whirled, eyes darting across the expanse of Pete"s study. The air thickened, each breath a struggle against the weight of dread pressing on her chest.

"Who"s there?" Her voice was barely a thread in the vastness of silence, betraying her fear.

The room remained undisturbed except for the macabre scene at its center. Books were aligned perfectly on shelves, and pens were laid out in an orderly fashion. There were no overturned chairs or scuffs on the floor, and not a single paper was out of place—an eerie order that screamed wrongness.

"Think, Mary, think," she muttered, words like lifelines to her own sanity. "What now?"

Her gaze caught on the phone on Pete"s mahogany desk. But no, calling from here could taint evidence. She couldn"t risk it. Her phone was downstairs in her purse.

"Help…." The whisper was for herself, a reminder that she wasn"t helpless. She needed to move, to find safety, to alert others. Yet her feet felt rooted in place as if the plush carpet held her captive.

"Get out," she commanded herself, voice strengthening with resolve. "You need to get help."

She glanced back once more, a silent vow to Pete that she would unravel this nightmare. Then, turning on her heel, she fled the study; every step away from the horror was a mix of terror and determination.

Mary"s heels clicked a hasty retreat from the study. She kept her palms raised, wary of brushing against the walls, her eyes scanning for unseen obstacles. The blare of the party grew louder, a siren call back to a world ignorant of the death that lay silently above.

"Easy," she whispered to herself. "Don"t touch anything."

She reached the thrumming energy of the party. Faces blurred before her, laughter and clinking glasses a grotesque soundtrack to the tragedy unfolding.

"Need to find someone… anyone," she muttered, her voice lost in the cacophony.

Her gaze latched onto a cluster of familiar faces by the fireplace, people she"d laughed with and shared secrets with. Trust was a luxury she couldn"t afford, yet necessity demanded it.

"Michael!" Her voice cut through the noise, sharp and urgent. A tall man with a shock of sandy hair turned, concern etching his features at the sight of her pallor.

"Mary? What"s?—"

"Upstairs," she gasped, each word punctuated with the beat of her heart. "Pete… he"s dead."

"Dead?" Michael"s eyes widened, his drink forgotten in his hand. "What do you mean?"

"Dead." The finality of the word hung between them, heavy and undeniable. "I think he's been… shot."

"Shot?" He echoed, disbelief shading his tone. "Are you sure?"

"There's blood everywhere," she said, her voice trembling as the image flashed again before her eyes. "We need to call the police. Now."

"Okay, okay." Michael set his jaw, determination replacing the shock. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone with steady hands. "I"ll make the call. You stay with me, alright?"

"Thank you," Mary managed, her relief mingled with sorrow. She leaned slightly toward him, seeking the solace of his presence, her mind still spinning with the night"s grim revelation. "I don"t know who would do this," she confessed in a near-whisper.

Mary"s breath came in short, sharp gasps as she stared at the sea of bodies surrounding them. The laughter and clinking glasses starkly contrasted the horror etched into her every feature.

Was the killer still here? Among these people?

"Call the police, now!" Mary"s command sliced through the haze of her shock.

Michael"s fingers flew over the phone screen, his professionalism surfacing amidst the chaos. "I"m dialing," he assured, glancing at Mary with eyes that demanded facts. "Details, Mary. I need details for them."

"His study. A pool of blood. He"s not moving. Not breathing. I'm pretty sure I saw a gunshot wound." The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered.

"Stay with me, Mary. Focus." Michael"s voice held steady, a counterpoint to the thumping bass. He relayed the information into the phone with practiced precision.

Mary fought to anchor herself in the present, away from the haunting image of Pete"s lifeless form. Her hands fisted at her sides as she drew a deep breath, trying to still the tremor in her limbs.

"Officers are on their way," Michael reported, pocketing his phone. The weight of urgency hovered between them.

"Good, good." Mary nodded, repeating the word like a mantra. Her mind raced, scanning through every interaction, every passerby who might have crossed Pete"s path tonight. Was it the killer?

"Anything you remember could be crucial," Michael coaxed, guiding Mary to a secluded corner. "Think."

"Guests, so many faces," Mary murmured, her gaze distant. "Laughter, dancing, drinks… nothing strange. Until…."

"Until?" Michael prompted, his hand a reassuring presence on Mary's arm.

"Until I found him," Mary finished, the reality settling like lead in her stomach. "Upstairs, alone."

"Okay, we"ll start there." Michael's assurance was a lifeline in the storm of Mary"s thoughts. "The police will sort this out. You"re safe with me until they get here."

"Safe…" Mary echoed, but the word felt foreign on her lips. She leaned on Michael"s unwavering strength, finding solace in her friend"s resolve as the party"s gleeful ignorance continued.

Blue and red lights soon bled through the curtains, casting a surreal glow over the throngs of unsuspecting partygoers. A heavy knock resonated above the music, the sound sobering.

They were here.