“And the sheriff?” I ask—I am a very good student. I’m listening.
“He helps the townsman. You’ll see.”
Tiff passes out the cards, and I peek at mine. This isn’t exactly a romcom-loving girl’s sort of game. Murder? Not my thing. But I’m willing to play—for Tiff.
I peek at my card, keeping it secret from Callum right next to me. I am the sheriff—which means what? I have no idea.
After going around for fake and awkward introductions of who each of us is—Callum is a baker named Bob, who would never harm a soul (or so he says!)—we begin. Tiff has us all close our eyes. She asks the murderer to open their eyes and point to someone they want to kill—what kind of games do the Whitakers teach their children?
Then Tiff asks the sheriff to open their eyes. I do and find everyone around me with their eyes still shut. I look at Tiff, who smiles and says, “Sheriff, who do you want to protect this round?” She makes a lip zipping motion, telling me to be quiet.
So, Isilentlypoint to Callum—which gets me a full-on eye roll from Tiffany.
“Okay, sheriff, shut your eyes.” After only a second, she adds, “Everyone open your eyes.” We do, and Tiff says, “There’s been a murder! Carl the carpenter has been found with his head choppedoff!”
I cringe. “Head cut off?”
Kristina taps her husband’s shoulder. “That’s you, honey.”
“Oh, right.” Brady slides partway down his chair, his body flopping, his tongue out.
“That’s enough, honey.” Kristina pats him again.
I watch, my brows knit.
“Okay, let’s talk,” Tiffany says. “Who do you think it was?”
I sit quietly while Callum’s family argues about who would have the gall to kill Dad first. Asher seems to think it’s his mother, while Kailey is convinced it’s Callum. Callum professes his innocence as a friendly local baker.
I don’t have anything to add—there are literally zero clues. I don’t get it. I can see why the game annoys Asher. It’s acting and luck.
We go through two more rounds—Asher dies, then Kailey, all while I attempt to save Callum. Again and again. It’s instinct. I realize it’s a game, but he’s the only person I know here.
“Down to Mom, Callum, and Fran,” Tiffany says. “Any guesses?” This girl has a future in game show hosting. She’s good.
“It’s got to be Mom,” Cal says with a shrug.
Kristina laughs. “We all know it’s you, Callum. You never kill me. You’re a sweet mama’s boy. We all know it.”
“Gah! I told you!” Kailey growls.
“Hey! Dead people can’t talk!” Tiff yells, pointing at her sister.
Slumped in his seat, Asher mutters, “I hate this game.”
“Maybe it’s Fran,” Callum says. He shrugs one shoulder.I’m seated so close to the man that his shrug bumps my side. “She’s been pretty quiet this whole time.”
“Hey!” I speak up. “It’s not me! I’m quiet because I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Meh,” Cal says, his tone high. “That’s what all the newbies say.”
“Cal!” I bark. “I have been saving you this entire time, and now you want to pin the blame on me?”
“Fran,” Tiff moans, her head rolling backward. I have officially just outed myself as the sheriff. With my confession, the rest of the room goes quiet.
And then, Kristina chuckles. “I guess that means I’m done for. Because it looks as if our sheriff and our murderer have been working together.” She peers at Callum, a funny grin on her face.
“Sorry, Mom,” Callum says through a smothered laugh. “I winagain!”
