Chapter 23
Beck
As soon as they’d all been herded into the greenroom, Team Dread challenged the other teams to a foosball tournament, leading to a lot of cheers and colorful swearing.
Beck supposed it made for a fine distraction from the upcoming elimination round, but despite the raucousness, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Solve the murder. Win the grand prize.
No biggie.
He looked at Adi on the opposite side of the couch, wondering how he could act so casual. For once, Adi wasn’t nose-deep in a book but rather on his phone, where Beck could make out the Domain’s forums.
Beck’s attention traveled to Sierra, who was sitting on a beanbag in the corner, her face obscured by the same magazine that had been in their welcome bags. Victor Cunningham’s gaze pierced into Beck.
The headline promised a glimpse behind the scenes of Cunningham’s state-of-the-art Sweetbrier Resort. Beck had already read the article four times, practically drooling over the scant details the writer had given about the labyrinthine, puzzle-filled complex.
“That place sounds like paradise, doesn’t it?” Beck said, loud enough to get Sierra’s attention but not so much as to draw the other teams’ notice. “I’m obsessed.”
Sierra glanced at him in confusion, then turned the magazine over to see the cover. “Ugh. You’re one of those. I should have known.”
“What? You aren’t curious?”
“About some pompous nerd Disneyland? Nope.”
It seemed incomprehensible that any contestant on The Escape Game wouldn’t be clamoring over themself to get to Sweetbrier. “But there are over two dozen escape rooms in one complex. Even the hotel rooms have built-in puzzles. I heard you need to solve a code to access your minibar!”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“So you can feel like you earned your M&M’s?”
“Uh-huh.” Sierra turned a page of the magazine. “I’m not wasting my time or money on some cheesy, overhyped resort that was built with stolen treasure. Victor Cunningham can bite me.”
Stolen treasure.
Adi’s head swung toward them so fast he dropped his phone on the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“Sweetbrier,” Beck said, not taking his attention from Sierra. “Why did you say the treasure was stolen?”
“He totally lowballed some family out of their property when he bought it. He had Jasper Barrett’s map. He knew the treasure was there. All he had to do was wait for a drought year and buy the land for dirt cheap. It may be legal, but it’s a dog act.”
“I’m sure he compensated the family when he found the treasure,” Adi muttered, picking up his phone.
Sierra snorted. “Yeah. Because multimillionaires love giving handouts to the people they’ve screwed over.”
Victor Cunningham’s confident grin crinkled as Sierra folded the magazine in half. Though only in his forties, Victor was practically a folklore hero.
More than a century ago, a pioneer named Jasper Barrett had struck it rich in the California Gold Rush, only to become so paranoid that he was driven to bury his wealth in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains before he vanished completely, leaving behind a letter and a cryptic map to indicate the location of the gold.
Though countless treasure seekers had searched, it was Victor Cunningham—already a self-made entrepreneur by that point—who ultimately cracked the code and unearthed millions of dollars’ worth of gold bars less than a mile from Sweetbrier Creek.
A few years after making headlines, Victor Cunningham broke ground on that same land, naming his resort after the treasure that had changed his reputation from nerdy puzzle maker to legendary treasure hunter.
Beck might have loathed the guy . . . if he wasn’t so effing cool.
The greenroom door swung open and Carter walked in.
“Where have you been?” Beck asked as she trudged to the sofa and sat down between him and Adi.
“The studio tour for the Domain ran long,” she said. “I just got out of hair and makeup.”
A series of deafening bangs and cracks came from the foosball table, followed by Gabriela throwing victorious arms into the air.
Carter swiveled to face Adi. “Did you know your mom’s here?”
Adi’s body jolted like he’d been given an electric shock. “Now?”
“Yeah, I ran into her when I was in the hall.”
“Why is she here?” asked Beck. “Is she freaked out about the freezer incident? She’s not taking you home, is she?”
“She’s not here because of the freezer,” said Adi, shutting off his phone screen. “She doesn’t care about that.”
Beck frowned. His parents had certainly cared when he’d called to tell them. It was a borderline hysteria level of caring. In the end, he had spent much more time comforting them than they did comforting him.
“She said she wanted to talk to Ranielle,” said Carter. Her tone lightened. “You could have told us your mom is a celebrity.”
Adi scoffed. “Was a celebrity.”
“Who is she?” Beck asked.
When it was clear Adi didn’t intend to answer, Carter said, “Symphony Parvesh.”
Beck clutched at his heart. “The archaeologist from the Cursed Tomb franchise?”
Carter shrugged.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen them!” said Beck. “They were what first got me into puzzles. Well, that and the Jasper Barrett treasure.”
“I don’t know about the movies, but lately she’s been doing these infomercials—”
Adi groaned loudly and slumped down until his head rested on the back of the couch.
Carter grimaced. “That’s probably not important. Why do you think she’s here, if not because of the freezer?”
“To continue her crusade of making my life hell?” Adi said, staring dolefully at the ceiling. “Actually, strike that. By this point I’m sure she’s much more focused on torturing the producers instead. That’ll teach Ranielle to get in bed with the devil.”
“She did mention something about how she helped the show . . .”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure Ranielle regrets getting her involved.”
They waited for an explanation. When one wasn’t immediately forthcoming, Carter poked him on the shoulder.
He sat up again. “She’s trying to claw her way back into Hollywood, either through me or through that guy.” He tipped his head toward Sierra.
Beck looked disbelievingly at the crumpled magazine cover. His attention whipped back to Adi, whose frown had turned into a scowl. “Victor Cunningham?”
“That’s the one.”
“That makes so much sense!” said Carter. “The fans love him.”
“I’ve been thinking maybe my mom cajoled him into helping out the show in return for getting her own fingers in the pie.”
Beck tilted his head to one side. “Your mom knows Victor Cunningham?”
“They had a fling when he was a consultant on the first Cursed Tomb movie. That’s why they killed off her character in the second movie. Because she was pregnant.”
“Harsh,” Carter said.
“Hollywood,” Adi reminded her.
“But that movie came out, like . . . seventeen? Eighteen years ago?” said Beck. “Wouldn’t that mean . . .”
There was a long, silent moment. Carter gasped. Beck’s eyes rounded in disbelief. “Victor Cunningham is your dad?”
Adi’s lips tightened.
“No freaking way,” Beck said. “What’s he like?”
“No idea. Never met him. Symphony didn’t tell him I existed, and I can’t contact him without sounding deranged. Hey, Victor, remember that woman you slept with eighteen years ago . . . ? He’d think it was some scam to get his money.”
“Great mom,” Sierra said, deadpan.
“Except,” Adi said, “if she got him to agree to sponsor this show, she must have told him about me. Maybe even got a paternity test. He wouldn’t be going along with her shenanigans otherwise.”
“Then why hasn’t he contacted you?” Beck said.
“Because . . . I’m Symphony Parvesh’s son? I figure he’s waiting to see whether I take after her.”
“I don’t think—” Sierra started, but the room erupted in a chorus of groans and boos, cutting her off.
“That’s cheating!” yelled Ollie from Team Illuminati.
Delphi cackled. “That’s winning.”
Ollie reached out and gave one of the handles an angry spin. “I’m done.”
“Sore loser,” Neil muttered. But the other teams were clearly finished with the tournament, and no amount of Jarius calling them scared little wimps was going to change it.
When things had settled down, Nadia, the leader of Team Mind Hack, asked loudly, “So are we going to talk about it or not?”
“What?” said Neil. “That four of you losers are going home today?”
Delphi smacked her bubble gum, her glance cutting toward Carter. “Or the fact that Team Hell-Suck got themselves stuck in a freezer?”
Beck felt his teammates tense. By now everyone had heard that someone had locked them in with a padlock and that the masked assailant wasn’t identifiable on the new security cameras. Only Team Dread had mocked them for it.
“Or maybe we should talk about how Ginger spewed all over me?” Jarius added.
“None of that is what I meant,” Nadia said, raising her voice. “I was talking about the coded ribbon.” She paused, waiting. “From the last room? Asking us to solve a murder?”
Emma from Crown Jewels piped up, “We figured it was the producers messing with us. Same as the Alicia Angelos anagram in the snag round. A publicity stunt.”
“We thought it could be some sort of memorial to Alicia,” said Beck, “but that note was . . .”
“Real,” said Carter.
“But what’s the lie in the clues?” Nadia demanded. “And why has this person asked us to figure it out?”
“Um, because we’re supposed to be the smartest people in the studio?” Jarius said. “Though that’s obviously not the case for all of us.”
“F-U,” said Sierra.
Everyone’s heads swiveled toward her.
“Excuse me?” Jarius demanded.
Sierra lowered her magazine. “J-C-F-U. The code from the fortune teller’s room. F-U sounds like a message to the killer. The producers wouldn’t put something like that in.” She sank deeper into her beanbag. “And October third was Alicia’s birthday.”
Her words were met with silence. Even Jarius frowned thoughtfully. Beck remembered how Sierra had asked in the room whether the numbers meant a date.
She had known what this was about, even then.
“But how can someone be slipping these clues into the game without Louis knowing?” Nadia said finally.
“Maybe he does know,” Sierra said. “Maybe he’s letting them do it so he can find the killer, too.”
“Or maybe it’s him,” said Emma. “Calling himself the Real Game Master on the forums to throw people off.”
“The Game Master doesn’t speak like that,” Adi said, waving his phone, which was open to the ribbon clue post.
“Right, and no one can fake a voice online,” Emma shot back.
Delphi curled her lip. “No matter who’s doing it, Ranielle will put a stop to it. Her precious family show.”
A throat cleared in the doorway. An intern with a headset and clipboard was waiting.
“They’re ready for you on set.” He turned away, then paused and looked back at the crowded room again.
“A word of advice. Don’t let Ranielle Russell catch you talking about Alicia, or those messages that have been cropping up in the rooms. She’s ready to murder the next person who brings it up. ”