Seductive Suspect

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 doorto 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.

Day Four

Chapter Eight

In the morning, I hovered near the door and listened for movement outside. I toyed with the idea of staying in my room until help arrived or the murderer decided to end my life, whichever happened first. Alas, I knew hiding wouldn’t stop someone determined enough, and not knowing anything would increase my anxiety. Time to face the others.

I opened the door when I heard footsteps and voices. Paul stood at the top of the stairs, while Isabel and Laura lingered near their rooms. They glanced at me when I emerged, but I did nothing but offer them a cursory nod. Awkward or not, I saw no reason to apologize for anything I’d done or said the previous night.

Adam and Dylan soon joined us. I thought our group would continue waiting on the landing, and then I remembered those present were the only ones left. Victor’s absence left a noticeable void. I contemplated how we’d fare without his guidance.

Laura smoothed the front of her skirt and cleared her throat. “So…breakfast?”

We mumbled some sort of assent and moved toward the steps. Paul hesitated and put up a hand to stop us. “Before we start what I hope will be our last day here, this is what I’m thinking. I don’t want to take any chances, so whatever we do, I suggest we do it as a group, or only one person leaves at a time.” He looked at each of us in turn. “That goes foreverything. Food, water, bathroom…one at a time, and maybe we’ll get lucky and the killer won’t catch any of us alone. What do you think?”

“Sounds good to me,” Adam said.

Isabel nodded. “It’s probably the best we can do right now.”

No one voiced any disagreements, and we headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. I gathered together the last ofthe pastries while Isabel rummaged through the refrigerator. “Anyone want any eggs?” she asked. “You can watch me prepare them, if you’ll feel better.”

“Sure.” Laura reached for the glass pot drying in the sink. “I’ll get some fresh coffee going.”

Adam located clean plates and utensils while Paul emptied the remainder of a carton of orange juice into a pitcher. We worked together in a domestic routine, and the atmosphere of the room almost felt pleasant. If only the clinking silverware and smell of coffee brewing could help me forget the sinister events of the past and the threat of danger lurking around every corner.

Once Isabel finished cooking the eggs, we brought our meal into the dining room. No one attempted irrelevant small talk, yet some of the tension from the previous day had dissipated. Maybe we will find a way to survive this, I thought while spreading some butter on a roll.

After finishing the food on his plate, Paul downed his orange juice in one long gulp and slammed the glass on the table. “I’m going to head outside to see what’s going on, or if I can at least make a phone call yet.” He stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the wood floor with a loud screech. “If you don’t mind, I think this time I’d rather go by myself. It’s not like having a group with me yesterday accomplished anything, and Brittany died anyway.”

I winced at the reminder.

“We’ll all stay here until you get back,” Isabel said.

I chewed on my roll and glanced out the dining room window. Sunbeams tried to break through the clouds, casting a yellow-gray glow over the trees. The rain had stopped for the time being, and I wondered about the flooding near the bridge farther down the mountain. Even if the storms had caused irreparable damage to the bridge, I hoped some of the cell towers in the area had been repaired by now. My brain warned me not to be toooptimistic, but my heart wished for Paul to finally be successful in one of his exploratory journeys outside.

As I raised my mug of coffee to take a sip, a tremendous crash reverberated from outside the room, so loud, I swore the floor shook beneath my feet. Coffee sloshed onto the tablecloth when I jumped, and I put the mug down before I added more to the mess. I looked up in alarm, in unison with everyone else at the table.

“What the hell was that?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t know.” I tried wiping up the spill with my napkin, though my hand shook. “I’m not sure I want to know.”