One by One(47)

His words silence me. There is a kind of horrible logic in that.

“And besides,” he adds, “I reckon we owe the others the chance to protect themselves. What if they know something they don’t realize? What if they’re the next people drinking coffee with a kick?”

I swallow. But his words have an undeniable truth behind them. Put like that, it’s hard to justify not warning the seven innocent people in the chalet, even if that means giving the murderer a heads-up.

Murderer. The very word, hanging unspoken in my mouth, feels unreal. Is this actually happening? Are we really going to do this?

“Okay,” I say at last. I look out of the window, at the storm, a sinking feeling beginning to churn in my gut at the thought of the meeting to come. “Okay… maybe you’re right. So… what? How do we tell them? What do we tell them?”

“We tell them the truth,” Danny says. His expression is set and grim now. “We say we think Eva’s death may not have been an accident after all and that Elliot might’ve been killed for whatever he was about to tell Topher. We tell ’em to stay in pairs at all times, make their own drinks, eat nothing but stuff you and I serve them. We’re the only people who can’t possibly be suspected. We didn’t know any of them before they came here. We weren’t up on that mountain. We’ve got no connection to any of that group.”

I nod. Only… and I can’t bring myself to say this to Danny, not now… the problem is, in my case, it’s not quite true.





LIZ


Snoop ID: ANON101

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I am up in my room with my head in my hands, trying to block out the reality of what is happening, when I hear the sound of the gong in the foyer being struck.

My head jerks up.

I open my door cautiously. Erin’s voice comes floating up the stairwell.

“—you could all come and gather in the lobby for a second. This won’t take long, and then we’ll serve lunch.”

I am not ready to face the others. But whatever is going on down there, I have to know. Maybe the police have been in contact. Maybe we are about to be airlifted out.

I take a deep breath. I flex my fingers. I open the door of my room and walk downstairs.

The others are all waiting in the foyer, huddled around the woodstove. It has got noticeably colder now. The warmth leftover from yesterday’s central heating has dispersed, and now only the two stoves downstairs are keeping the place from slowly freezing.

Erin is standing a few steps up on the spiral staircase. Her face is very white, and her scar looks more shocking than ever, a livid slash against her pale skin. Danny is at her shoulder like a lieutenant. I have to push past them to get to the ground floor. There are puddles on the wood in the foyer, where the piled-up snow is leaking in through the bowed front door, spoiling the polish.

When we are all gathered in front of them, looking up expectantly, Erin clears her throat.

“Okay, is everyone here?” She’s counting heads, and I realize with a shudder that she is thinking of our abortive meeting this morning, which ended with the realization that Elliot was missing. I taste blood, and I realize I am chewing my cuticle again. Disgusting little girl. I flinch. I shove my hands in my pockets.

“We’re going to serve lunch in the living room if that’s okay, the dining room is starting to feel quite cold. It’s salad—I know that’s not the most appropriate, but without electricity Danny is very limited on what he can cook, and we need to finish up the fresh vegetables, now that the fridge is off.”

There’s a mild grumble from Topher, but Miranda glares at him, and everyone else nods. We know we are not in a position to complain.

“But… the real reason we asked you all here—” Erin stops. She looks a little bit sick. Like she is working herself up to say something she really doesn’t want to say. Suddenly, I do not want to hear what she is about to say. “Danny and I, we…”

She looks over her shoulder at Danny. He gives her a look back. I am not sure if it is encouragement or impatience, but it seems to spur Erin on.

“We have some concerns,” she finishes, in a rush, “about the manner of Elliot’s death. We’re pretty sure that he—that he was poisoned.”

Little gasps come from all around the room. It is what they have all been thinking, but there is something horrifying about hearing the words spoken aloud.

“There are traces of crushed pills in his coffee,” Erin says, “and while he may have taken an overdose deliberately, the sabotaged computer makes it at least possible—”

Danny mutters something. His voice is too low for me to hear, but Erin sighs. She tightens her fists at her sides.

“Maybe even probable, that Elliot was murdered. And that leads backwards to the possibility that Eva was killed too, and Elliot was murdered because of what he knew.”

There is another ripple of reaction around the room, but it is not really surprise. She is only voicing what most people here had already begun to suspect. It is more like a kind of horror: these are no longer paranoid fears, but a potential reality.

“Danny and I debated this announcement long and hard,” Erin continues, “because ultimately it’s only speculation—we have no proof of any of this. It’s still possible that Eva’s death was an accident and Elliot’s was suicide or an accidental overdose. However, the fact remains that two deaths have occurred and that is… well, concerning doesn’t really cover it. So even while we hope this is overk—”