Page 74 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“Technically a furnace room.”

“We’ll go there, then.”

Connor holds his phone in front of him like a divining rod as we follow Mr. Prentice to a side door, where there’s a dark staircase leading down into the ground. He snaps on a light, but it’s still gloomy and damp.

It looks like one of those stairs in a horror movie.

You know, the ones where people go down and never come up again?

And you want to yell,Don’t go down there!

But it looks like we’re going down there, so...

“Why would he go to the furnace room?” Oliver asks.

“An excellent question for Fred once we find him,” I say.

“Are you saying that my son is down there? Whatever for?”

I feel Emma shiver behind me. “You should stay here, Em. Stay here with the Winters. Just in case.”

She goes even paler, but she does as I ask, leading Mrs. Winter away from the rest of us, with Mr. Winter following along behind.

Now it’s just me, Connor, Tyler, Simone, Oliver, Allison, David, and Mr. Prentice. We walk down the rickety stairs, and my feeling of unease grows.

This is why I don’t watch horror movies.

I don’t like jump scares.

Or that ominous music they play before something bad happens.

But that music’s playing in my head right now.Duh-duh...Duh-duh...

Oh, wait. That’s theJawsmusic.

You get the idea.

“Watch your head,” Mr. Prentice says. “The ceiling is low.”

We’ve reached the cellar floor. It’s dirt, with blackened beams overhead holding up the building, built into ledge rock. Thewalls drip with moisture, and the air reeks of mold and wet wood. It smells like something might’ve died down here a long time ago.

It’s exactly the sort of space you’d use if you were space-casting this type of scene.

And the hotel manager’s right, the ceiling islow. I reach a hand up and touch it. It comes away wet, and I rub my hands together, trying to warm them.

Why would Fred come down here?

Maybe it’s just his phone?

Asecondphone.

That’s never a good sign.

“Which way?” I ask.

“This way,” Connor says. His phone glows in the dark, lighting up his face.

I know his expressions well enough to recognize what he’s feeling.

---