Chapter 47 Adi
Adi
“You told me you didn’t get anything,” said Beck.
“Technically, I didn’t,” said Adi, hunkering over the costume department’s computer, relieved when it didn’t require a password to log on. “I dropped the USB in her office and didn’t have a chance to grab it again.”
He picked a USB out of the bin and stuck it into the port. A folder popped up.
Empty.
He ejected the USB, set it aside, grabbed another.
“How many do you think that is?” asked Beck, eyeing the bin.
“I’d estimate around two hundred,” said Carter. “Based on unit size and container volume.”
“Great,” said Adi, pulling out the second blank drive. “Two down.”
“We’ve got time,” said Sierra. “We can’t risk breaking into the finale room until we’re sure the studio is empty.”
While Adi worked, Beck dug through the racks of costumes, which held everything from silver disco jumpsuits to fringed cowboy vests. “I wish we’d taken pictures of our murder board. Now that we know it isn’t Ranielle—”
“Believe it isn’t Ranielle,” Sierra corrected. “We have no proof either way.”
“Good point. But it would be nice to look at the clues again. I’ve been thinking maybe the murderer had an accomplice. That would explain some of the alibis. What about your old teammates? Elijah and Cruz?”
Sierra looked up from the costume designer’s sketchbook, which she’d found behind the desk. “Maybe. Elijah was quick to point the finger at me.”
“Not everyone had solid alibis,” Adi said. “Vera could have been responding to social media comments anywhere.”
“Right,” Sierra drawled. “Suffocate someone, like a photo. Throw the body in a coffin, heart a comment. That sounds like Vera.”
“Is it possible the police got the time of death wrong?” Carter asked, trying on a cowboy hat.
Adi plugged in another drive. “Forensics isn’t going to screw something like that up.”
“But what if they did?” asked Beck. “There could be a laboratory mix-up. A typo in the paperwork. Simple human error. It’s not so far-fetched.”
“In a high-profile case like this?” said Sierra. “You’d think they’d double-check their work.”
“Is there a drug that can slow a body’s decay?” Carter asked.
Beck considered. “I don’t think she was dead long enough for decomposition. It would more likely have to do with rigor mortis and lividity. Either way, a drug would show up in a toxicology report.”
“Ice?” Carter suggested. “It would slow the settling of blood, wouldn’t it? Being cold.”
“You think someone stuffed the body in a bag of ice?” Adi said.
Carter shot him an annoyed look. “No, a freezer. And I don’t think anything, we’re just throwing out ideas.”
“Actually,” said Beck, “that might delay rigor mortis and make the time of death appear later than it was.”
Adi frowned. “But there’d be signs of . . .”
“Wait,” said Sierra. She slammed the sketchbook shut. “Oh my god!”
Everyone gaped at her.
“You, my team, are brilliant. All of you. All of you!”
“Are you having a stroke?” Adi said.
“Alicia was wet!” Sierra covered her mouth. “The cops thought she was wet because the killer hosed her down to eliminate any DNA. But what if she was wet because she’d been defrosting?”
At first, Adi was skeptical. But gradually, amazement overshadowed his doubt. That made sense. It would explain why the case had been so difficult to solve. The time of death was wrong.
“That would eliminate almost every alibi,” he said. “It means everyone’s a suspect again.”
“She couldn’t have been killed on the studio premises,” Beck said. “The only freezers they have here are small.”
“Her phone was found, what, a mile away?” asked Carter. “We could search for restaurants nearby and see if there’s a connection to any of the suspects.”
But Adi’s stomach had begun to churn. “No.”
“The missing comforter,” Sierra said, not hearing him. “It could have been used to protect her skin inside the freezer. She had it with her that night. The killer could have used it to drag her into any industrial free—”
“Adi?” Carter interrupted. “Are you all right?”
Adi gulped, suddenly nauseated. “What if,” he said weakly, “Alicia never left the complex alive?”
“You think the killer used the freezer in our kitchens?” Beck said. “The same freezer we were trapped in?”
The air stilled.
“It’s certainly big enough,” Carter whispered.
Sierra pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “The food poisoning. If the killer had to move the meat boxes out, like we did—”
“Then Alicia could lie flat on the freezer floor.” Carter gripped her stomach. “Yep, Adi, I understand why you’re looking like that.”
“Wait,” Sierra said. “Elijah saw her leave the complex after me.”
“Maybe she came back,” Beck said softly.
“Speaking of Elijah,” said Adi. “That car he heard at four in the morning—if the killer had left Alicia in the complex overnight to freeze, it makes sense they’d be returning before dawn to pick up her body and stage it at the studio.”
“What time was her phone turned off ?” Carter asked.
“Ten twenty-eight,” Beck and Sierra said in unison.
“So they killed her at the villa,” said Adi, “then took the phone and drove away before turning it off, to make it look like Alicia was still alive at that time, and that she’d moved to a different location.”
“It fits.” Sierra’s voice sounded far away.
“I think you were right, Beck. Alicia must’ve returned to the complex.
Maybe the killer even lured her back. Pretending to be Louis?
” She closed her eyes, as if picturing the events as she spoke.
“She goes in, only it’s not Louis. Or maybe she doesn’t see the killer at all.
Maybe they attack her from behind. They use a gloved hand to cover her mouth and nose.
She struggles . . . clawing, but her nails are too short to catch any DNA, and the killer simply waits until . . . until . . .”
Adi’s insides sank. This was nothing like the euphoria of solving puzzles. Alicia’s death had been brutal.
And despite how far they’d come, they still didn’t know who had done it.
Adi would have felt discouraged, except—
His heart leaped.
“This is it.”
His teammates looked at him. Adi turned the computer screen to face them, revealing the open folder. “Sweetbrier Resort— season six.”
“Yes!” Beck threw his arms into the air. “Adi, you are like freaking James Bond!”
“But there’s no grand prize anymore,” Carter pointed out. “No invitation to Sweetbrier.”
“Oh, I’ll get there someday,” said Beck. “And when I do, I’ll be ready.”
It wasn’t long before the sounds of demolition fell quiet and the studio shut down for the night. They used their phone flashlights as they crept down the corridor.
“I can’t believe we’re going to see the finale room,” Carter whispered. “Is it wrong that I’m a little excited?”
They came to the doors of Soundstage E, and Adi reached for the handle. “Are we ready?”
Everyone nodded.
After a dramatic pause worthy of a show host, Adi opened up and stepped inside. It took a moment for his brain to interpret the lumps and shapes, and even when he did, he didn’t register it right away.
“You’re kidding,” Sierra breathed.
Adi’s phone light landed on a . . . skull? No—a whole skeleton. He swung the beam around. Three skeletons altogether, strings of garlic around their necks. Each hung from hooks in the stone walls.
“Wait,” he said. “Isn’t this—?”
“The vampire room.” Sierra’s voice shook, and Adi realized she was lingering in the doorway. Her eyes were glued to the large black box in the center of the floor.
Not a box. A coffin.
“The unaired finale.” Carter moved around the space, dust billowing from beneath her boots. “They wouldn’t actually reuse the set where they found Alicia’s body?”
“It’s not exact,” Sierra said. “This feels . . . more authentic. The details. The props. But I bet they’re using the same puzzles.”
Adi flicked a switch on the wall, and electric orange flames sparked to life in ensconced torches around the room.
“Fancy,” Beck murmured.
Carter touched a combination lock that sealed the coffin shut. “I can’t believe they’d do this.”
As one, they turned to Sierra, who stared at the coffin with haunted eyes. Almost as though she expected her sister’s corpse to be in there . . . again.
“Sierra—” Beck started.
Abruptly, she snapped to attention. “It isn’t like we’re going to find another body. Start looking for that evidence. Search the skeletons.”
They split up, Sierra using a loose stone to prop open the door, keeping it from locking them in.
“This one has a parchment,” Carter said. They spoke in hushed whispers, as if they were treading on sacred ground. As if Alicia’s spirit might be lingering nearby, waiting for them to find the truth.
Adi pulled a pouch from the bony hand of his skeleton. “I’ve got a pouch. It’s locked. There’s a symbol of a fancy cross pressed into the leather.”
“Just garlic over here,” Beck said. He joined Carter. “What does the parchment say?”
“It’s a map with numbers on it. The title reads The Most Holy of Sites.”
“We need a code to get through to the next room,” Sierra said, examining a heavy wooden door with a keypad. “Four digits. I don’t remember much from last time.”
“You were in shock,” Beck said. “Your brain probably blocked out a lot.”
Adi headed over to check Carter’s parchment map. “This is medieval—or at least, is trying to look medieval. Europe and the Middle East.” He touched his finger to the numbers marking different locations. “I wonder—”
“There’s something on the back!” Beck said.
Carter flipped the parchment over. “Oh great. A message apparently written in blood. Our protection is the key for our greatest weapon. Yet it is not enough. We are doomed.”
Sierra perked up. “The key?”
“What protection?” Beck said, scanning the room. “A shield?”
“Protection from vampires.” Sierra slapped her forehead. “The garlic! I knew that.”
“The key’s in the garlic?” Beck asked.
“For the combination. Count them. The skeletons’ fingers indicate the order. This one is holding up the number two, and there are nine garlic bulbs.”