Chapter Twenty-Three
The house that had felt so large the day before flew by as Maggie darted into the hall and toward the stairs. She knew Ethan
was at the threshold of Eleanor’s office, watching her retreat, so she tried really, really hard not to run. It took every
iota of Maggie’s willpower not to scream as she moved down the stairs and through the foyer and into the library where she
closed the double doors behind her and leaned against them like she might be able to keep Ethan and the world on the other
side.
Flames flickered in the fireplace and, outside, the world was white and vast and cold, but she wasn’t thinking about whether
or not Eleanor was out there. No. Maggie was reaching for the key in the door and twisting— click . And then she was walking toward the shelves.
The song was fresh on her mind and coursing through her veins and, when she hummed, she remembered—
“What’s that?” Colin asked as he lay on the twin bed in her dorm room.
“Nothing.” Maggie blushed and turned her head.
“No. I want to know.” He grabbed her by the waist and tugged her down beside him.
“Just my favorite song from my favorite book.”
“What’s that?”
Her hand was reaching for the shelves. Then? Now? Maggie couldn’t tell. Past blended with present. With future? She wasn’t
sure. All she knew was that when she reached for the first edition of Roses Are Dead, Violets Are Blue she didn’t even have to search for the page. There was something tucked inside already. A sprig of mistletoe. And just like
that, Maggie knew. She knew.
She thought her heart might gallop right out of her chest as she held the mistletoe against her lips and read the novel’s
epigraph for the millionth time, “For a murder isn’t a murder when there is no death. And a mystery isn’t a mystery when”—she
slammed the book shut—
“It’s only a test.”
For a moment, Maggie couldn’t move. She could barely breathe as she stood there, thinking.
It’s a test. It’s a test. It’s a test.
And then she heard Deborah’s voice in her ear, saying, “I think you’re the person for the job. But I need you to get on that plane.”
And she knew what Deborah hadn’t been able to tell her: It wasn’t just a test. It was a contest . And if it was a contest...
Then somebody had to win.