I HAVE EVIDENCE.
But the police won’t listen to me, so now it’s your turn, Solve Specialists.
FIGURE OUT WHO’S LYING.
FIGURE OUT HOW THEY GOT AWAY WITH IT.
If you can help me with the missing information, I’ll plant the evidence in the finale room, which, if you’ve been paying attention, will REVEAL THE KILLER.
The countdown’s begun, Clue Masters. Tick tick.
19
Beck
After silently reading the post on the Domain multiple times,Beck couldn’t stand it any longer. “So . . .” he started, burying a nervous hand in his hair. “Sierra, we appreciate you not killing us in our sleep, but it feels like it’s time to address the elephant in the room. Did you kill your sister?”
Sierra blinked, as if emerging from a dream. Her gaze shifted to him for a long moment. Then she pushed off from the couch and headed to the kitchen. “I need to bake.”
Her movements were robotic as she pulled bowls and baking sheets from the cabinets, then flour, sugar, baking soda, oranges, measuring cups and spoons. She didn’t look at a recipe as she started adding ingredients to a mixing bowl.
“That wasn’t an answer,” Beck said, glancing at Carter and Adi. “Was it?”
“Not an answer,” Carter confirmed, reading the post again. “But this can’t be Louis Augustus Russell. He doesn’t speak like that.”
“No, I think we can agree that whoever’s calling themselves theRealGame Master isn’t our current Game Master,” Adi said. “What I want to know is, how did they get all this information?”
Sierra slammed an egg down so hard the shell shattered, spilling its guts across the counter. She growled and threw the remnants into the sink before trying again.
“I remember the police releasing reports from the case, hoping it would bring in new evidence,” Carter said, frowning. “It was all over the Domain at the time. This information could be from that.”
Beck stood. “Sierra—”
Sierra cursed loudly, glaring into the open fridge. “Which of you asshats finished off the milk?”
Beck slowly raised a hand. “Guilty.”
“You should’ve told me we were out. I went shopping after the round.”
“That’swhere you go when you leave the complex?” Carter said. “Grocery shopping?”
“You think this food miraculously appears overnight?” Sierra yelled. “Now we don’t have any milk to go with the cookies, and you can’t have cookies without milk, can you?” She reached for the bowl of cookie dough. Beck got there first. She tried to grab it back, but Beck didn’t let go.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t care if you killed your sister. I mean—no, not true. I definitely care if you killed your sister. But as far as I’m concerned, that’s between you and the police department. What I need to know is how we are going to stay in this competition.”
A muscle twitched in Sierra’s jaw. For a second, her fingers pressed into his, squeezing the ceramic bowl between them.
Finally, she looked away. “This was my mom’s cookie recipe. She died when I was ten. Alicia and I used to bake when we were missing her the most.” She grabbed a spoon, scooped a hearty bite of cookie dough out of the bowl, and stuffed it into her mouth.
Carter squeaked and whispered, “There were raw eggs in there.”
If Sierra cared, it didn’t show.
Screw it.
Beck grabbed a spoon and took a bite, too.
God, that was good. The orange zest stole the show.
