Page 75 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

Excitement.

The jerk.

I take Oliver’s hand. “What if...”

“Don’t go there,” Oliver says. “Maybe it’s just his phone.”

“I thought that, too, but why? And that would still mean he’s missing.”

“We should add this to the script,” David says behind me. “It could make a really dramatic scene at the midpoint, don’t you think, Simone?”

“Not the time, David,” Allison says gently.

“Oh, yes, of course. It would be better in the sequel, anyway.”

“There isn’t going to be a sequel,” I hiss.

“We’ll see.”

We shuffle along the corridor. There are red lights up near the ceiling, the kind that might come on in an emergency, even though the power’s not out.

Not yet, my brain can’t help but think.

Because it’s just a matter of time before that complication arises.

“Just up here,” Mr. Prentice says. He reaches up and snaps on a light, another bare single bulb hanging from the ceiling. There’s a metal door in front of us, closed tight and covered in rust. “It’s in there.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Connor says.

Mr. Prentice shivers. “I don’t...You should.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Connor hands me the phone. “Hold this.” I take it, and he puts his hand on the door handle and pushes it down. “It’s stuck.”

“Is it locked?” Oliver asks.

“No,” Mr. Prentice says.

“Put your shoulder into it, then.”

Connor steps back. “I’m wearing my good suit.”

“Seriously?” I say. “This was your idea.”

“I’ll do it,” Oliver says, stepping forward. He takes the handle, puts his shoulder against the dusty door, and pushes. “It’s stuck.”

“I just said that.”

Oliver pushes again, coming up on his toes. “A little help here?”

“Fine.”

He and Connor start to push, counting together. “One, two, and...”

The door gives, and they both tumble into the room, almost losing their footing. I follow them in, but it’s dark and hard to see anything.

A light snaps on.

Fred’s splayed out on the floor on his stomach with his arms extended.

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