Eventually the group went back inside. After a brief conference, they decided to split into their groups to do different jobs. Although the signal fire was still burning itself out, Cici, Shelley, and Warix went to watch at the cliff and collect more wood to be ready to start a new one.
Peach, Plum, and her friends would rest in the ballroom, readying for their watch shift at the cliff.
Dude, Jalen, and Jude left to move the bodies into the walk-in refrigerator.
It felt good to have a plan, even if Plum couldn’t shake the memory of those ominous words appearing on her phone screen.
DANCE, PUPPETS!
DIE, PUPPETS!
She gave herself a shake.
“They’re actually putting bodies in the refrigerator,” Marlowe whispered to Plum, sitting beside her on the ballroom floor. “That’s actually a thing that is happening now.”
“Yeah,” Plum replied. “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t help feeling responsible.
“It’s not your fault,” Marlowe replied. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” Plum said.
Without saying another word, their hands found each other’s, twining together and squeezing tight.
A hoarse shriek echoed into the ballroom.
Plum and Marlowe raced into the hallway. Behind them, Plum could hear Sofia exasperatedly calling to the chicken, and Peach’s panicked “What was that? Who was that?”
They ran down the hall, through the large atrium, under the swirling arch of the round staircase.
The scream was coming from the dining room.
Without stopping, Plum, Marlowe, and Sofia (holding Henrietta) piled into the doorway.
Jude, Dude, and Jalen stood in a loose semicircle facing where they’d left Brittlyn’s body. They looked totally shell-shocked.
Plum noticed two specific things simultaneously. One: Jude was the one who’d screamed. He stood a little beyond the other two, as if he’d backed away from them. He looked utterly terrified.
Two: Brittlyn’s body was gone.
“Her body’s gone,” Jalen said, stating the obvious thing somewhat obviously into his phone.
“Maybe she wasn’t . . . dead?” Dude offered waveringly.
“You said she was dead!” Jalen rounded on Plum.
“We all said she was dead!” she said.
“Dude!” Sofia pointed at Dude. “You did CPR! Did she seem dead to you?”
“This is ridiculous!” he spluttered. “Of course she looked dead to me! She looked dead to all of us!”
“Someone moved her,” Jude said.
“Dude, when? We’ve been together nonstop since Sean died.” Dude started pacing in frustration.
“Okay, or . . . ?” Plum let her voice trail off. Not because she was trying to prompt the answer, but because it seemed impossible; the image of Brittlyn asphyxiating was too vivid. Too real.
“She wasn’t dead,” Marlowe whispered.
Plum nodded. “And that could mean one of two things. Either she was supposed to die and somehow didn’t, or she faked her poisoning.”
“And if she did that, then she’s the killer!” Jalen said. “What better way to hide than to die first?”
“Or to pretend to,” Sofia said, her brown eyes wide. “Whoa, that’s creepy.”
Plum suddenly felt like she was being watched. Was it possible?
Was Brittlyn the killer?