Vivian heard Heather gasp.


     “What is it?” she asked, standing from where she sat on the sofa.  She was glad to move for any reason.  Ava was trembling, and while Vivian felt sorry for Ava, she could feel the other woman’s nervousness spreading to her own tense nerves and making her fidgety.


     “Look,” Heather said, pointing at the shelf.
  
     Vivian studied the books.  “They’re our stories.  That director must have put them here as some sort of joke.  What about them?”


     “Gail’s is missing,” Heather hissed.


     “Maybe it was never there,” Vivian replied slowly.


     “No, it was,” Heather insisted.  “I remember picking it up on my way downstairs.”


     “What is it?” Ava asked, coming to join them.  She had her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold.  It was chilly in the house, Vivian realized.  She hadn’t paid attention to it before.


     “Gail’s book is missing,” Vivian told her.


     “What?” Ava gasped.  She peered at the shelf.  “That’s sick,” she said.  “Who would do that?  Who
would have time to do that?  We just found her!  That’s horrible,” she finished, her voice disgusted.


     Vivian was in complete agreement with the sentiment, but something Ava said stuck out in her mind.  “Who would have time,” she murmured.


     “Okay, ladies,” Jordan announced from behind them.


     The three women gasped and whirled around.  Vivian recovered first.  Scowling, she swatted lightly at Jordan’s arm.


     “Don’t do that,” she ordered.  “You scared us half to. . . well, you know.”  She bit back on a sudden, hysterical giggle.


     “Easy, honey,” Jordan murmured, putting his hands on her shoulders.


     He looked concerned, though Vivian couldn’t figure out why.  It was almost funny, the look on his face.


     “I checked the bedrooms,” he continued more loudly.  “Everything’s clear.”


     “Where’s Micah?” Heather asked suddenly.


     Jordan dropped his hands from Vivian’s shoulders.  “Snoring away in his room,” he answered.  “He has been since he went in there.  I’m right next to him,” he added.


     Vivian rubbed her forehead.  She turned back to the bookshelf.  “Gail’s book is missing,” she said.
How odd, she thought.  Somebody took Gail’s book off the shelf because she was dead.  She was dead so her book was gone.  It was all too perfect.  Something Agatha Christie would have written into a novel.  Vivian started to laugh again.  She never laughed.  She always kept herself completely composed, kept everything private.  It wasn't anybody's business what she felt inside.  But she was exhausted and frightened and there was something so funny about that book.  She noticed the others giving her odd looks, but she couldn’t stop laughing.  Gail was dead, head smashed into a marble countertop -- why had she even been awake? -- so somebody took her book off the shelf.  Who had enough time to come take the book off the shelf?  There was something hovering on the edge of her brain but she was laughing so hard that she couldn’t focus on it.


     “Ava, Heather, why don’t you go to bed, I think it’s safe enough for now,” Jordan said quietly.  “I’ll help Vivian to her room.”


     The two women nodded and left the sitting room.  Vivian gasped, trying to suck air into her lungs.  She was trembling so violently her back was starting to hurt.


     “Okay, Vivian, calm down,” Jordan told her quietly.  “Take a deep breath in through your nose, nice and slow.”


     Vivian tried to obey, but the laughter was turning into sobs and she couldn’t manage it.  Somewhere between the laughing and the crying, Jordan maneuvered her to the couch.  She put her face in her hands and cried, for once not caring that her carefully held composure was crumbling -- and in front of a practical stranger at that.  She never fell apart, but here she was, crying like some sort of lunatic.
Jordan didn’t say anything, he just sat beside her, a hand on her back, and let her cry.  Her breath started to come in ragged gasps.


     “Okay, Vivian, you have to calm down,” Jordan said softly.  “Hyperventilating isn’t going to make you feel any better, I promise.”


     She laughed a little more normally at his quip.  Leaning back against the leather sofa, she tried to settle her brain into something like working order.


     “In through your nose,” Jordan instructed.


     She appreciated his company.  Not many men would have been that patient with her hysterics.  The poppy picture on the far wall caught her eye.


     “I keep feeling like these poppies are watching me,” she said.


     Jordan glanced over at the painting.  “They match the director’s tie,” he pointed out.  “Maybe he’s the one who decorated this place.  He seemed to have a flair for all things flashy.”


     Vivian smiled, remembering the director’s fancy suit, and the luxury car she’d seen through the window.


     “Maybe so,” she replied.  “I think he’s a creep.”


     “Agreed.”


     They sat in silence for a few moments.  Eli appeared at the top of the stairs, making them both jump.
     
     "Sorry," he told them.  "Just going to check on my wife."  He left them alone again, staring at the paintings.


     “Jordan?”


     “Yeah?”


     Vivian turned to look him in the eye.  "I know we already ran through this, all the possibilities of who could have done it, but the book makes it different.  Nobody would have had time to run up here and take that book from the shelf after we found Gail.  We would have noticed if anyone left the kitchen.”


     He watched her, face sober.


     “Someone had to take the book before Gail died.  Someone who knew about the bookshelf knew she was going to die.”


     Gil came barging up the stairs.  He glanced at them, then hurried off to his room.  Jordan turned from watching the other man to look back at Vivian.


     “We don’t know that for sure,” he told her.  “Maybe Babette or Micah took it for reading material.  Neither one of them was there when we found Gail.  It could just be a coincidence.”


     She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Really?” she asked sarcastically.


     “We can hope, right?”


     “Sounds like a fool’s hope to me.”


     He blew out a breath.  “‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick,’” he answered with a rueful smile.


     “What is that, Shakespeare?”


     “The Bible.”

******

     Jordan made his way down the stairs.  He’d managed to get Vivian to her room and reasonably settled.  She had worried him with that outburst.  Snapped nerves weren’t going to help anyone at this point.  He walked back into the kitchen.


     Dale stood looking at the floor, leaning against the counter.  Gail hadn’t been moved.  Jordan folded his arms and leaned against the door frame.


     “They’re all safely in their rooms,” he told the older man.


     Dale nodded.  “That’s good.”


     “Where?”


     Dale stirred a little, like he was waking up.  “Eli went to check on his wife.  I think Gil was just done.”


     “Can’t say I blame him.”


     “Nope.”


     “Holy--”


     Jordan turned to see Micah standing in the doorway, staring at Gail.


     “What happened?” Micah demanded.


     “You slept through a murder, that’s what happened,” Jordan told him.


     “What?”


     Dale and Jordan took turns explaining the situation.


     “Did you call the cops?” Micah asked when they finished.


     “How can we?  No phones, remember?” Dale told him.


     “What about that computer Greg told us about?  Could we use that blog to get somebody’s attention?”


     Dale nodded slowly.  “Maybe.  Not likely.  Hard to get readers on a blog, sometimes.”


     Jordan could feel himself getting frustrated with the older man’s calm and it looked like Micah felt the same.  “Well, what are we going to do with the body?” he demanded.  “We can’t just leave it, her, here,” he stumbled, gesturing at the body.


     “No, we can’t.  Would put everybody off their coffee in the morning.”


     “Are you freaking kidding me?” Micah cried.


     Dale looked at him then.  Jordan realized how Gil must have felt under the man’s gaze.


     “Son, what makes you think there’s something we can do?  If we can get the police here, they’ll be mad if we’ve moved the body.  But we can’t get the police here because we have no phones.  The only contact we have with the outside world is a blog people may or may not read.  So we’re left with a dead body and nowhere to put it.”


     “What about the director, Greg?” Micah insisted.  


     “When he comes back, we can send him to get the police,” Jordan suggested.


     “Do you trust Greg?” Dale asked quietly.


     Jordan hesitated.  “No,” he finally answered, Micah echoing his response.


     The three men stared at Gail’s body for a few minutes.


     “We should at least cover her up or something,” Jordan commented.


     Micah nodded.  “Maybe there’s a blanket in the living room,” he offered, backing out of the doorway.


     He seemed happy to walk away from the body.


     Jordan glanced around the large space as they began their search.  Vivian was right, he thought.  The poppy flowers did seem to be watching everything.


     “Hey, you notice anything weird?” Micah whispered as they moved around the dark room.


     “What?” Jordan whispered back.


     Micah pointed at the windows on the back wall.  “The curtains aren’t moving.  If somebody managed to break in, there should be a draft, moving the curtains.  But nothing’s out of place, nothing moving.”


     Jordan walked over to the back door.  “It’s locked,” he told Micah.


     The other man came over to join him.  “Looks brand new.”  He opened the door.  “No keyhole on the outside.  Just a deadbolt that locks from the inside.”  He shut and locked the door again.  “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”


     “You were talking about curtains, not locks,” Jordan muttered.


     “Same thing.  Let’s check the other doors.”


     They made the rounds, checking the rest of the house together.  Dale still stood in the kitchen when they
walked back in, seemingly lost in thought.  He looked up as they entered, though.


     “Find a blanket in your search of the house?”


     He had heard them, Jordan noted.  And paid attention to what they were doing.


     “No, we didn't find a blanket.  We didn't find anything out of place,” Micah replied.


     Dale raised an eyebrow at them.


     “All the locks are fine,” Jordan said.


     “I knew they would be.”  Micah pointed at his raven tattoo.  “I know Poe, remember?  And this thing reeks of the creepy only Poe knew how to write.”


     “Oh come off it, man, don't go getting all melodramatic," Jordan protested.  "You're gonna get all those girls up there all riled up talking like that and we're not going to be able to figure anything out."


     Micah ran a hand over his short hair.  “I think whoever killed Gail had to already be in the house,” he answered seriously.


     Jordan took a deep breath.  "We already went through this while you were upstairs snoring.  Of course we know it could have been one of us."


    "I have sleep apnea," Micah snapped.  "It is not my fault.  And I'm not saying it could have been one of us, I'm saying it was one of us."
     
     "You've got a point," Dale commented.  "It's the most likely scenario."
     
     "So we're just going to keep everybody in a state of paranoia because we couldn't find a broken lock?" Jordan asked.


     “A woman is dead.  We might need to be paranoid.” Micah replied.


     "And you're sure nothing is out of place?" Dale asked them.


     “Gail’s book is missing,” Jordan answered slowly.


     “What?” the other men asked at the same time.


     “There’s a bookshelf in that upstairs landing,” Jordan told them.  “It’s got all our books on it.
Everyone’s but Gail’s.”


     “You think whoever killed her took the book off the shelf,” Dale stated.


     Jordan nodded.  “Vivian thought so, anyway.  She said nobody could have taken it after Gail died, though.  It must have been taken before she was killed.”


     The silence in the kitchen grew heavy as the implications sunk in.


     “We never did find that blanket,” Micah said nervously.


     “You know what, you guys can find it, I’m done for the night,” Jordan told them.  “I can’t sit here and stare at a dead body any more.”


     “Go get some sleep,” Dale told him.  “We’ve all got a lot to deal with.”


     Jordan walked back up the dark staircase to his room.  Once inside, he locked the door and ran both his
hands through his hair, forcing out a breath.  He flopped down on the bed, willing the tension out of his body.  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and groaned at the early hour.  Maybe he could get some sort of sleep in before morning.  The hours he’d had before Heather woke them up had pretty much been spent.  He closed his eyes, completely weary.

******

     Everyone was already awake and moving through the house by the time the sun rose the next morning.  Sleep had been elusive for most.  The light glared through the massive windows, bright enough to send hands up to cover eyes.  When, blinking, they could see again, they found new companions for Gail.  Vivian was on the living room floor, Jordan on the dining room table, and they found Micah in the hallway bathroom.  


     They had all been beheaded.