Chapter 28 Beck
Beck
Beck sat on one of the pool lounge chairs, pretending to be engrossed in some serious social media scrolling.
After five minutes of “acting normal,” it had become clear to him that he was not cut out for surveillance.
His foot wouldn’t stop bouncing. His fingers were leaving sweaty prints on the phone’s screen.
He glanced at Sierra, who was laid out on the next lounge chair with one arm tossed over her eyes. Without her boots, her torn-up stockings made her legs look infinite.
In front of her, Adi sat on the edge of the pool, feet in the water, book on his lap. Neither of them struggled with acting normal.
Beck returned his focus to the phone, pausing on a pop-up ad teasing exclusive reveals about Victor Cunningham and his puzzle resort. Like the advertising algorithm knew him or something.
To think that Victor Cunningham was Adi’s dad was beyond mind-blowing. If their team won those Sweetbrier passes, that was going to be one heck of a family reunion.
“So,” he said, feeling like he had to say something before he exploded from nerves, “that video in the alien room was nuts, wasn’t it? I wish we had a recording of it.”
“Why?” asked Sierra. “It didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.”
“Think the murderer is getting anxious?” asked Adi. “If they really are on that list, they’ve got to be thinking their days are numbered.”
“The Real Game Master better be watching their back,” said Sierra. “If the killer figures out who’s leaving the clues . . .”
Beck recrossed his ankles so his other foot could take its turn jiggling uncontrollably.
“I think I recognized the voice in that video. It was distorted because of the auto-tuner, but there was something familiar about it.” His mouth watered as he tried to recall the flavor he’d tasted while the video played.
Rhubarb pie? No—not quite. If he could hear it again . . .
“He’s leaving,” Adi said suddenly.
It took Beck’s brain a moment to shift directions. But there was Elijah Kua, traipsing casually out his front door, right on time for his prescheduled interview for Carter’s channel. He waved at the three of them as he headed toward the dining hall.
Beck waved back. Sierra and Adi did not.
The moment Elijah had rounded the corner, Adi climbed to his feet and tossed his book onto an empty table. “This shouldn’t take long,” he said, before strolling to the RAs’ door. He knocked.
“Stop staring,” said Sierra.
Beck lifted his phone in front of his face again.
Lisa answered the door. She and Adi talked a moment, then she beamed and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. Seconds later, the two of them were on their way to the dining hall, too.
“Adi’s got game,” Beck murmured, impressed.
Sierra pulled on her boots. “Let’s do this.”
They hurried toward the villa, down the pathway that ran along the side of the building.
Sierra strode with purpose, like she had every right to be there, but Beck glanced around every few seconds to make sure no one was watching.
With the back gate visible from the pool, it wasn’t exactly the most private place to try breaking and entering.
Sierra pulled on the gate, then cursed. “It’s locked again.” She gave it a frustrated shake.
“I’ve got this.” Beck eyed the wall on either side of the wrought iron gate. It was a foot or so taller than him and covered in stucco like the villas. Mostly smooth, but with a few minuscule imperfections scattered across the surface.
Nothing to it.
He grasped the top ledge and hauled himself upward.
His toes found placement on some of the tiny ledges.
Pressing with his legs, he brought one elbow onto the top, then planted his palm and used it to leverage his body weight up and over.
He doubted it took more than five seconds before he was dropping quietly down to the other side.
Sierra had her hands on her hips and a skeptical frown when he unlocked the gate and let her in. “You know, if you’d told me you could do that a week ago, we could have finished this a lot sooner.”
“I didn’t realize it was the gate holding you up. I thought you were more concerned with getting Elijah and Lisa out of the way.”
“That too,” she said, shutting the gate behind them. “For the record, I choose you as our dexterity competitor in the semifinals.”
“Really? Cool!”
“Let’s get started.”
Beck surveyed the swath of patio that stretched before him. It was a pretty design, the pavers spiraling outward from the center. A flower bed along one edge sported palm trees and ornamental grasses. A café table with two chairs sat off to one side. “Where do we start?”
“I checked around the flower bed last time, and along the walls,” said Sierra. “I also checked the light fixtures. But all my sister told me to do was to look under the terrace, so . . . I’ve sort of been avoiding the obvious.”
They both stared down at the spiraling pavers. There must have been a thousand of them—easily three hundred square feet of outdoor living space to explore. And they didn’t even know what they were looking for. An incriminating photo? A murder weapon?
“And the police didn’t find anything?” Beck asked.
“That’s what they told me, but I’m pretty sure they half-assed it. They made it clear they thought I was making it up to waste their time.”
Beck frowned. He didn’t want to believe that any detective worth their salt would botch such a clear lead. But then, he hadn’t wanted to believe that the show’s producers would manipulate the contestants to fabricate more drama, and he’d clearly been proven wrong on that front.
A loud screech made him jump. But it was just a bird in one of the palm trees—not the creak of a gate, not the trill of an alarm, not Elijah or Lisa coming to ask what on earth Beck and Sierra were doing.
Every second they stood there was wasting time. Adi and Carter had thought they could distract Lisa and Elijah for at least an hour, but that hour would go fast.
“I’ll start at the center and work my way out,” said Sierra. “You start on the outside and work your way in. I figure, if I was going to hide something under this terrace, I’d either put it beneath one of the exterior edges or right smack in the middle.”
Beck picked a spot in the shade of the villa’s overhanging roof and dug his fingers beneath the first paver—a reddish square block about the size of his hand.
It took some wiggling before he was able to pry it up from the sandy layer underneath.
He looked at the sand. He looked at the bottom of the paver.
It was . . . just a paver.
He set it back into place.
One down. Countless more to go.
“So, do you think Jarius was the one who locked us in the freezer?” he said, shuffling on his knees to the next group of pavers. “Maybe he wanted to get back at Carter for throwing up on him.”
“It tracks,” said Sierra. “For whatever reason, they’re targeting us with their snags. They must see us as a threat.”
“Well . . . we are, aren’t we? I mean, you have experience on the show, and Carter’s a Solve Specialist, and Adi’s so good at anagrams and word puzzles, and I’ve built my own rooms, so I like to think I have some idea of how the Game Master’s mind works.”
“And yet, we bombed the first two rounds.”
Fair point, although Beck had faith in his team. He knew they could beat Jarius and his cronies. He knew they could make it to the finale. He knew—
Familiar-flavored voices caught his attention. Carter and Elijah were heading their way, arguing.
Beck froze, a paver in his grip. His eyes met Sierra’s.
“I’m sorry!” Carter was saying. “Elijah, wait. Come back. Please!”
“This conversation is over,” said Elijah. “You want to rehash season four, fine. But I’m not going to be strong-armed into talking about Alicia’s private business. I’ve already given my statement to the police.”
“Okay, okay!” As they came closer, Carter’s voice became increasingly desperate. “No talk of Alicia! Totally fine. I had no idea it was such a sore spot. Let’s finish the interview.”
“Maybe later. I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Beck held his breath, hoping Elijah would go around to the front and give him and Sierra a chance to slip out the gate.
But no—he turned down the path. He was heading toward the terrace.
Beck nestled his paver back into place and bounded to his feet. “I’ll distract him,” he whispered. “You go out through the front.”
Sierra started to disagree, but Beck bolted forward and grabbed the gate, yanking it open just as Elijah was reaching forward, key in hand.
Elijah yelped and jumped back.
“Elijah!” Beck cried, slipping out the gate and closing it behind him with a loud clank. “I’ve been waiting for you. I hope you don’t mind if I made myself at home. It’s really peaceful back there, and it’s been hard to find any solitude lately.”
“How . . . ? Wasn’t the gate locked?”
Beck made a confused face. “Nope. Opened right up. Do you have a minute? I could use some advice.”
“I . . . uh. Okay. Carter, we’re done here.”
Beck feigned surprise. “Oh. Hey, Carter! Didn’t see you there.”
“Hi?” squeaked Carter, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” said Beck. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But I needed someone to talk to.”
Carter’s gaze slipped toward the gate, probably searching for signs of Sierra.
Elijah looked like he wanted to tell Beck to get lost, but then he twisted his face into something like understanding. “Of course. I’m here. I’m glad you waited.” He reached for the gate, then hesitated. “Carter, a little privacy?”
“Oh! Yeah! Right. Um . . . if you need me, Beck, you know where to find me.” Carter slowly backed down the path.
“Come have a seat,” said Elijah.
Beck held his breath as he opened the gate and they stepped onto the terrace, but Sierra had disappeared into the house. If a paver was crooked here or there, Elijah didn’t seem to notice.
Beck perched on the edge of one of the metal café chairs and immediately started rambling. The clues in the game. The message on the cow’s heart. Being locked in a freezer, the culprit still unknown. Saboteurs and mind games and—
Elijah raised a hand, stopping Beck’s tirade.
Beck took a breath. Actually, it felt pretty good to get all that out.
“I know it’s been a lot,” said Elijah, “but most of what’s happened is probably the producers trying to stir up drama. They do that.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Beck said dryly. “It must have been hard for you to come back here, after everything. I know what happened in that finale was really traumatic for all of you.”
Elijah’s voice became rough. “It was awful. When Ranielle offered me this job, I almost said no. But ultimately . . . I couldn’t imagine staying away.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated. And I honestly don’t expect anyone to understand.”
“Try me.”
A muscle ticked in Elijah’s jaw. He seemed to be considering something, but then he shook his head.
“Come on.” The legs of Beck’s chair scraped against pavers as he scooted closer. “Everyone is so secretive around here. It helps to open up, you know? And I’m a really good listener. Ask anyone.”
Elijah peered at Beck through the mop of curls that fell over his brow. Cautious and suspicious.
Beck cupped his face in his hands, the picture of sincerity.
Elijah took in a long breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost inaudible. “I came back because . . . because this is the last place I ever saw her.”
“Alicia?” Beck whispered, reverent.
“Who else?” Elijah shuddered and looked toward the pool. “I watched her leave the villas that night. I could tell she was upset. I thought about going after her, but . . . I didn’t.” He shut his eyes. “I have many regrets, but that will always be the worst one.”
“She was your competition,” said Beck.
“In the game, sure. But outside the game? No.” He gave a wistful sigh. “Coming back . . . I thought I could still be close to her. Like I didn’t have to say goodbye.”
Beck could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Was it you?”
Elijah’s dreamy expression clouded. “That killed her? Aren’t you listening to what I—”
“No, not that,” Beck interrupted. “There are rumors that she was seeing somebody on the set. Was it you?”
Elijah’s nostrils flared, his quiet melancholy immediately over-shadowed with irritation.
“Did Sierra tell you that? You should know she’s a compulsive liar, and she’s been trying to convince people of her innocence since day one.
It would be convenient for her if there was some secret beau, but I’ve seen no proof of it. ”
“Okay,” said Beck. “But if she was dating someone, that would be important. That person would be a suspect.”
“She wasn’t seeing anyone!” Elijah stood. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was unprofessional.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened to her?” Beck said.
“I do know what happened to her.” Elijah swung the gate open and stood next to it, tension radiating off him.
“Sierra and Alicia were fighting hours before Alicia wound up dead. Sierra has anger management issues and paints disturbing images of people suffering and dying. Of all the suspects, she’s the one whose whereabouts weren’t accounted for that night.
” His eyes burned into Beck. “It isn’t hard to figure out. ”
Beck knew it wasn’t Sierra. He believed her, body and soul. There was grief in her, and kindness. He’d seen past the crack in her facade.
Sierra had not killed her sister.
But Beck was almost certain that Elijah was hiding something.