Chapter Eighteen Piper

Chapter Eighteen

Piper

Now: Saturday, 11:30 a.m.

The safe is empty. No phones, tablets, nothing. Cleared out.

"Where's our stuff?" Camille shrieks.

Liam stretches a hand into the safe, feeling around just in case. Then shakes his head. "Everything's gone."

My stomach sinks. My mom will kill me if I lose another phone. This one was a huge splurge given how many bills Mom has been dealing with lately because of me. Gymnastics is expensive to start with, and now I have hospital bills and physical therapy on top of it all, and our insurance sucks.

Eden also looks positively green around the gills at the prospect of a missing phone. And she's not the only one.

Camille purses her lips. "Silva is, like, poor. Her phone is probably some ancient model. Do you think she took them to sell for cash?"

"Do you think she killed Dec for his phone?" Eden escalates the conspiracy theory. I barely suppress a derisive snort.

I watch Liam search the safe once, twice, and a third time for good measure, like the outcome might change. A frown tugs at his mouth at the final, futile search. The expression might render lesser mortals ugly, but Liam's still hot, even when he's disturbed. Objectively speaking. I am zero percent sexually attracted to Liam Parker-Yang, but I can and do appreciate pretty people.

And all these pretty people look really worried right now.

What the hell is everyone keeping on their phones?

While they collectively lose their minds, I click into investigation mode. This is the part in the murder story where key clues are overlooked because everyone is focused on the wrong thing. Not that this is a murder story. But our teacher is gone, and so are our phones. And I don't trust these people. Something is not right.

I peek into the closet and Ms. Silva's open luggage. It's all sweaters and skin care. Back on the bedside table there's a well-loved paperback. An Agatha Christie: Endless Night. Finally I look back at the computer. Wyatt said the network was down, but then everyone's attention was pulled to the safe. I wonder…

I crouch down awkwardly, my sling upsetting my usual balance. My thighs burn under the strain as I attempt to steady myself. God, I'm out of shape already.

The router is tucked behind the dusty desktop tower, no telltale lights blinking an alert. I check the back to confirm mysuspicion.

The network isn't down. Someone's stolen the connector cables. The Wi-Fi has been sabotaged.

Someone in this house—or someone who recently left it—is screwing with us.

"We need to find the phones. They have to be somewhere," I say, holding back what I know about the Wi-Fi. I run through the facts.

At dinner last night, before Eden drugged our teacher, everyone was up in arms about how they didn't sign up for this trip. And it was easy to lie, to nod along with the others. But I know why I'm here. Did one of them lie too? Hiding our devices, cutting off communication…Those are calculated moves. They couldn't have planned the storm, but Wi-Fi router cables don't disappear by themselves.

If this were an episode of a murder podcast, this would be the point where the hosts would say, But who took the cables? And why? And what chilling turns lie ahead for these snow-trapped teens?

"Let's split into teams and we'll each search a floor," Delaney jumps in. "Liam and I will start in the basement." She links arms with her boyfriend.

With a huff of annoyance, Eden sneers. "Don't you dare sneak off into the sauna while we're all working. Camille and I will take my floor."

"Unless you hid our devices," Delaney counters. "How do we know you didn't sneak down here last night and take them?"

The air crackles with tension.

"No one should search their own stuff," Delaney decides. "You should go with Wyatt and sweep the third floor. Camille and Piper can take the second. Willa, you can handle the main floor solo."

Camille wrinkles her nose in my direction. And I don't miss the way Willa's eyes flare as Delaney leaves her with the short stick. To me it indicates trust—or maybe incredulity that Willa could be smart enough to pull off the scheme. But I don't know. Willa was drinking the amaretto last night, too, and seems to be the only other person who knew what it was made with. What if someone slipped the drink to Declan on purpose?

I shake away the thought. What happened with Declan was an accident.

Probably.

We leave Delaney and Liam to kick off the basement search in Silva's quarters. As we trudge up the stairs two by two, I can't help but feel like a character in the Clue movie, going off to search the house. Luckily, no one can end up strangled in the billiards room, as there is no billiards room—as far as I know, at least.

When we reach the second-floor landing, Eden pulls Camille aside. "Don't let her"—she gestures at me with her thumb—"search my shit. She'll probably steal something."

"How do you know I haven't already? I had the house all to myself yesterday for hours while you were communing with nature."

Great job, Piper. It's like last night. Losing control and lowering myself to their level.

Eden stares me down. "You know, being into girls is totally okay and everything, but your obsession with me is just sick."

I don't bother to correct Eden. I'm used to the bullshit at this point, and I think if I explained the asexuality spectrum to Eden, her brain might break.

Besides, I don't owe any of these assholes an ounce of info about my private life. Screw them.

"Ladies, ladies, " Wyatt says in his most condescending tone—which is really saying something. "We have a hunt underway. You can kill each other later. Or whatever else you want to do," he adds with a leer.

Eden turns on her heel in a huff and heads up to the third floor with Wyatt following after. Camille and I enjoy a chilly silence. Finally, she cracks.

"You search the boys' room. I'll take Eden's."

It's a command, not a suggestion.

Fine with me. My first stop is Declan's bag. It's the matter of the EpiPen. It's been festering in my mind all morning. Would Declan really forget he'd packed the EpiPen in his suitcase? Plus, if I'd sabotaged the Wi-Fi, a dead man's luggage is where I'd hide the cables.

I close the door behind me. I'm surprised to see an old-fashioned key sticking out of the keyhole. I decide against locking the door. If Camille does try to barge in, going that extra mile might invite more questions than I want.

There are bunk beds tucked into a corner and a queen as the main feature. In front of the queen, a neatly zipped suitcase on a luggage stand screams Liam. Instinct carries me over to the unmade bunk bed and suitcases belching dirty clothes.

One of the suitcases is a sleek silver Tumi embossed with the initials DD. Bingo. I unzip Declan's case and search through his belongings with haste, knowing I have a lot of ground to cover and not much time. Camille might join me at any minute.

I find lots of graphic tees, hoodies, and dirty underwear that makes me gag. But no EpiPen. No Wi-Fi cables either.

I make quick work of Wyatt's and Liam's bags next. The most notable find in the front pocket of Wyatt's roller case is an old-school porn magazine. He literally couldn't go four days without online porn? The allos are not all right.

Liam's is neat as a pin, his shirts, slacks, and underwear neatly rolled for maximum space efficiency, with a pouch for worn items. There's even a full pharmacy supply, complete with Band-Aids, antibiotic ointment, a variety of painkillers, gauze, Visine.

Footfalls overhead stop me in my tracks. Eden and Wyatt are on the third floor, possibly searching through my case right now. I finger the cold, hard metal of the contraband in my hoodie pocket, thankful I thought to keep it close. There's an air of hysteria building in this house, and I don't trust them not to turn on me. Hell, last night during that game they already did, and that was before Declan dropped dead.

Finally, I check every drawer and closet—places someone might have stashed away the cables—but come up empty-handed. The room is clear.

I wonder what's taking Camille so long in Eden's room, unless she's just messing around in there? I cross the hall and find the door suspiciously shut. Never mind I was just in my own shut room for my own suspicious reasons.

"Jesus Christ!" Camille shrieks as I burst in.

And it's a good thing I took her by surprise.

She's holding one of the phones in her hand.

"EVERYONE COME HERE RIGHT NOW!" I shout before she can stop me.