Chapter Seven

"All right. I put her in her room like we did with the others." Paul peeled his damp shirt, which had been made wetter when he'd slung Brittany's sodden corpse over one shoulder, away from his body and tried to air it out. "So tell me, those of you who've managed to stay dry, how the hell did this happen?"

"What are you talking about?" Laura placed her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow. For a moment, I thought she was going to reprimand him for speaking too loud in her library. "How can you be so sure one of us killed her? For all I know, you came back and dragged her outside."

"Well, I didn't!"

She shook her head. "Like you're going to say otherwise?"

"Fine, then." Paul turned away from her to face the others. "But you have to admit it's more likely one of you in the lodge at least would have heard something."

Isabel dropped her gaze to the floor, while Dylan offered a casual shrug for a response.

Shoulders slumped, he let out a long sigh. "Of course not."

I shared in his disappointment, though I didn't say so out loud.

"Now, wait," Victor said. "If we all settle down and talk this through, maybe we'll be able to glean some pertinent information." Despite his rumpled, muddy appearance, he remained a voice of reason. "We'll start with your search of the building. Tell us more about what went on here."

Laura ignored his request for calm. " He is completely useless," she snapped, pointing at Dylan. "All he did was sit around, playing games on his phone."

"I already told you what I thought about your stupid idea to look for someone who doesn't exist. So why does it matter how I decided to waste my time?" A smug expression crossed his face. "And if that's all I did, then by your logic, I didn't kill her. Right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you could have slipped out for a couple minutes without us noticing."

"Okay, it's a start," Victor said. "Where were you two ladies while he wasn't participating?"

Isabel's lips puffed out. She exhaled and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "We thought we'd be able to cover more ground if we split up, and we swore we'd be careful. Like, if something bad happened, the others would hear it, or we'd be alert enough to avoid an attack, or…" Her frown deepened, and she shook her head. "Clearly, we were wrong. And now Brittany's dead, and it's all our fault."

"Especially if you were the one to drown her," Dylan said.

"Oh, fuck off already." Laura's cheeks grew darker with anger, their hue matching the vibrant color of her hair. "If you're not actually going to be helpful, why don't you just shut up and let the rest of us try to figure things out?"

"Yeah, since you've been doing such a great job so far."

"At least some of us are trying!" She waved him off with one hand. "Go back to your little games, Senseless Sniper, or whoever you are, while the adults here get stuff done."

He snorted. "Keep throwing your hissy fit. It's really making you come across as so much more mature than me."

"Enough!" Victor shouted. "We don't need to be best friends here, but all this bickering does nothing more than distract us from the important issues and weaken us. If we're going to survive this, we need to be willing to work together, and that goes for everyone in this room." He looked back and forth between Dylan and Laura. "Get out of this alive, and the two of you never have to speak to each other ever again. Until then, if you can't say anything constructive, say nothing at all. No one else wants to hear it."

They glared at him, but neither answered.

"Regarding our group outside," he continued, "we also split up, but into pairs." He tugged at the bottom of his stained jacket. "You may have surmised I had a bit of an incident with a slippery patch of uneven terrain. Miss Campbell was kind enough to help me out, so the two of us can vouch for each other."

A glimmer of hope flickered to life inside me, and I looked over to Adam. "And if the two of you were together the whole time…"

"Uh…about that." Paul ruffled the hair at the back of his head, sending fine droplets of rainwater cascading to his shoes. "I, um, had to relieve myself, so I told him to go on ahead and I'd catch up."

I groaned. "And you listened to him?"

Adam shoved his hands into his pockets and bit his lower lip. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't think it was a big deal. In retrospect, I should have stuck around."

Laura crossed her arms over her chest. She glowered at them, the creases in her brow deepening. Though she didn't articulate her thoughts, her accusations and fury were apparent.

Out of desperation, I clung to that glimmer, although it faded quickly. "Would there have been enough time for one of you to come back to the lodge, kill Brittany, and run back before the four of us reconvened? I mean, how long does it take to pee behind a tree or whatever?"

"Who knows." He rocked back and forth on his heels. "I don't think we were separated for very long, but I can't say for sure."

"And I already said I didn't kill her, but I'm sure not everybody believes me." Paul exhaled again. "Not like I can blame you, without having any proof. We're right back in the same situation, not knowing anything for certain."

Victor straightened and cleared his throat. "Unless you believe there's a conspiracy underway, Miss Campbell and I have been cleared of Brittany's unfortunate death, at the very least. However, I don't know how meaningful said information is at this point in time."

Isabel's nose twitched. "It's a start, I guess." She rubbed her arms. "I hadn't thought about the possibility of there being more than one killer."

Her words hung heavy in the air. The theory of multiple murderers troubled me, too. But, as Victor had pointed out, I knew he hadn't killed Brittany. I found some consolation in being able to count on one person.

"I certainly hope that's not the case," he said. "But I suppose we shouldn't rule anything out." He reached for the top button of his coat. "Now, if you don't mind, I really must change out of these soiled clothes and try to wash the mud out of my hair. I'm sure the others who were with me outside would appreciate some time to freshen up, too."

"A hot shower does sound nice," I said.

He nodded. "Shall we all return to our rooms, then, and plan for a late lunch or early dinner in an hour?"

"All right." Paul strode toward the staircase. "You can decide who's prepping the food. With all the dead bodies I've been examining and hauling around, I think I've earned a pass."

We agreed to meet in the foyer in one hour. I hurried up the stairs, shedding my damp, dirty clothing as soon as I locked the door behind me, and draped it over the radiator. Turning the faucet all the way to one side, I let the shower fill the bathroom with steam and tried to reason through the events of the last several hours.

The guests who'd stayed inside had a greater window of opportunity to drown Brittany in the fountain. Dylan wouldn't have had to struggle much to physically overpower her, I thought, but could Isabel or Laura have created a ruse to lure her outside? Then again, with her ridiculous high heels and ditzy demeanor, anyone might have been able to catch her off guard or off balance.

I stepped into the shower and tilted my face up into the spray. Closing my eyes, I sighed, the plaintive sound echoing off the tiles. I wanted to believe neither Adam nor Paul would have had enough time to rush back to the lodge to kill her, but, by their own admission, I couldn't rule either of them out.

Why didn't I choose to stay with Adam? Then we'd each know the other was innocent.

I shook my head to push the silly, futile thought out of my mind, and reached for the shampoo bottle. Although a fourth death unnerved me, it had given us more information to work with. I needed to concentrate on facts, not any lingering attraction to the cute guy and potential murderer next door.

Victor had been correct when he'd pointed out the two of us had an alibi for Brittany's drowning. While the killer had been able to commit the crime unseen, they had allowed us to start eliminating suspects. A small clue was better than nothing at all. Maybe the killer's luck would run out, or this little slipup would be a deterrent to carrying out the next murder.

I rinsed the lather out of my hair and rubbed my skin with a washcloth until all traces of mud swirled down the drain. My survival depended on untangling this mystery, and I now had more evidence at my disposal. I didn't care how, but I was determined to find a way to leave the lodge alive.

Bolstered by my newfound confidence, I shut off the faucet and quickly dried off with the towels. Since my casual clothes were soiled and damp, I put on the purple dress I'd worn the first night, before we'd learned what was in store for us over the weekend. The silky fabric swished across the tops of my knees as I marched out the door. I felt prepared to take on whatever twist the killer threw at us next.

Dylan sat on the bottom step of the staircase, swiping the screen of his phone. He nodded at me when I approached, and I leaned against the railing to wait for the others. Another door on the landing opened, and I glanced up to see Laura peek her head out. Isabel's door opened a moment later, and they joined us at the bottom of the stairs, followed by Paul and, lastly, Adam.

"I'm starving," Paul said. "What did you guys decide on for lunch, or dinner, or whatever you want to call it?"

"Nothing yet." Laura pushed her glasses up her nose. "Besides, shouldn't we wait for Victor?"

The hair at the back of my neck stood up at the mention of his absence. "Where is he, anyway?" I murmured.

Several of us exchanged anxious glances. Paul shrugged. "The guy had, like, half the dirt from the forest stuck in his hair and clothes. I'm sure he'll be out here in another minute."

We waited in silence. Dylan continued playing on his phone while Isabel picked at her fingernails and Laura spun her wristwatch in circles. Adam stood next to me at the railing, no more than a couple of inches between us, yet I didn't look at him. Somehow, deep in the back of my mind, I knew something bad had happened. Again.

I hoped and prayed for Victor to emerge from his room, a picture of calm and poise in his immaculate suit, but it was to no avail. I pushed off the banister and descended the last two steps. "I'm going to check on him," I said, unable to keep the quiver out of my voice. "Anyone else want to come?"

The staff quarters were on the opposite end of the foyer, closer to the entrance to the library. With the others behind me, I crossed the great hall, my footsteps echoing on the wood floor. The door to Victor's room stood between two of the giant bronze animal statues. I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again, louder this time. "Victor? Is everything okay?"

Nothing.

I turned around, knotting my fingers together in front of me. "What now?"

"Is the door locked?" Paul asked.

I reached for the knob. It turned easily in my hand. Fear and panic churned in my stomach, sending a tremor through my arm, but I had to see what lay on the other side.

My worst suspicions were confirmed when the door swung open with an ominous creak. Clad only in a bathrobe, Victor lay face down on the floor. A raised, purple bruise had emerged near the base of his skull, his hair mussed around it. Beside him were the two pieces of a broken pool cue, the latest murder weapon.

Horror at the sight before me weakened my knees. I dropped into a squatting position and buried my face in my hands. "No," I said weakly. "No, no, no, no…"

"Shit," Paul said. Through my fingers, I saw him move in front of me. "How the hell did someone get in here, anyway?"

"Maybe he forgot to lock the door," Laura said. "Or someone picked the lock. Either way, someone could have hidden in the closet and snuck up on him."

Paul opened the second, smaller door. "Well, there's no one in there now."

I couldn't stand to listen to their speculation. "Who cares? Does it even matter?" The quake in my voice sounded more apparent, and the distress I'd been bottling up for days threatened to come to a head. "Victor knew the most about this place and the people here. I thought he might have a shot at figuring this thing out and getting us all out of here, but now he's dead ." Tears sprang to my eyes on the last word, and I attempted to choke them back.

Adam stepped toward me. "It'll be okay." He reached for my shoulder. "We'll find a way to—"

"Don't touch me!" I jumped up and backed away from him. "He was the only person I trusted, and look what happened!" My chest heaved, and I gasped for air. I felt on the verge of hysteria. The words kept rushing out of my mouth. "I can't stand this horrible, vile place anymore and being stuck here with all of you. I didn't want to come here to begin with, and now I'm going to be the victim of some sick maniac who thinks killing people is a game." Frustration and rage mingled to send the tears cascading forth, but I'd long passed the point of caring. "So, whichever one of you is getting enjoyment out of watching the rest of us suffer, fine. You win. I hope you're fucking happy!"

Without waiting for a response to my outburst, I spun around and fled to my room.

***

The lid of the toilet felt cool against my flushed, damp cheeks. I'd locked myself in the bathroom and curled up on the floor to cry for what must have been hours. I was scared for my life, afraid of everyone around me, and furious with my sister for getting me into this predicament in the first place. I wanted to go home.

I dragged myself into a sitting position against the wall, the first step in acknowledging I couldn't stay holed up in the bathroom forever. Once my breathing resumed its normal rhythm, I stood, placing one hand on the towel bar for support. I caught a glimpse of my head in the mirror as I rose and winced. My red, puffy eyes and disheveled hair matched my mood, and I looked ridiculous in my cocktail dress. "Time to go to bed and hope tomorrow can't possibly get worse," I muttered to my reflection.

I changed into my pajamas and hung the dress in the closet, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to wear it again. Before climbing into bed, I decided to open the window a crack to let some fresh air into the stuffy room. When I raised the curtain to reach the latches, I saw someone standing near the railing again.

Oh no.

Adam turned at the sound of the window opening, despite my attempt to keep it quiet. "Hey, there you are." Light rain had plastered his hair against his forehead. He held something beneath his open jacket, and I stiffened. "Don't get scared, it's just me."

I shook my head. "Go away. Please."

Pulling his jacket aside, he revealed a small plate. "I brought you a sandwich. I figured you might want to eat something. Or at least you should eat something."

"I don't want it."

He shrugged, disrupting the rivulets of water running down the slick fabric. "I'll take a bite of it first if it would help."

I wanted to laugh, but I was exhausted and frustrated with him, perhaps irrationally. "Why?" I said, my voice cracking. "Why couldn't you have stayed with Paul today? Then you would have been together when Brittany died, and then I'd know for sure you weren't the killer, and I'd believe more of what you say, and…" A hiccup interrupted my ramblings, and I fought back a new surge of tears.

"I know, I know." Adam sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I've been kicking myself over it all day. It was stupid of me, of us, and if I could go back and change things, I would." He wiped the raindrops from his brow. "There's nothing I can say right now to make this any better or convince you to trust me, and I don't blame you. I just wanted to bring you some food and see if you were okay."

My throat tightened and I rubbed my eyes. "I'm not."

Creases appeared in his forehead. "I probably wouldn't admit it in front of the others, but I'm scared, too. But I keep thinking we've come this far and—"

"No. It doesn't matter." A nagging, terrible thought I'd been attempting to ignore fought its way to the surface, and the words started tumbling out too fast again. "Don't you get it? Victor and I each knew the other hadn't killed Brittany, and we gave each other alibis. He obviously wasn't the murderer, and now he's dead. Which means…" I swallowed and tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm next."

"You don't know that."

"Sure I do. It makes sense. Unless enough people believe in the multiple killer theory, they know I'm innocent. And if I've been cleared, and I'm not helping to muddle up everyone else's suspicions, then I don't really serve a purpose while alive, do I?" I sniffled, but the tears didn't come. Either I was dehydrated or I'd resigned myself to my dismal fate. "So, I have a strong feeling I'll be the next victim."

The rain grew heavier, splattering against the balcony. Adam moved closer to the window, fixing me in an intense stare. "I'm not going to let that happen."

I tilted my head to the side and hugged my arms to my chest. "How can you be so sure?"

Droplets clung to his dark lashes, but his gaze never wavered. "I'll find a way to keep you safe. And somehow, though I don't know how yet, I'm going to prove to you I'm innocent. We're going to get out of this alive."

Clinging to wisps of hope had already turned out to be a mistake once during the day. I didn't know if my psyche could handle another blow of disappointment, so I didn't answer. Adam took the plate of food out from beneath his jacket and set it next to the door, beneath the overhang. "I know you have no reason to believe me, but, like I said, I'll find a way. I won't bother you anymore tonight." He straightened and vanished into the shadows.

I waited until sure he was really gone before opening the door to retrieve the sandwich. My stomach gurgled, and I realized I felt rather hungry. Though simple, the food did help improve my state. I only wished I found similar comfort in Adam's promises.