“Except Beck!” she said quickly, in an effort to cover up whatever faux pas she’d just made.
“Beck?” said Fitzy, apparently grateful for the subject change.
“Yeah. We haven’t discussed it at length, but he seems relatively well-adjusted. No way he has any secret family drama.” She laughed nervously. “No way at all.”
23
Beck
As soon as they’d all been herded into the greenroom, TeamDread challenged the other teams to a foosball tournament, leading to a lot of cheers and colorful swearing. Beck supposed it made for a fine distraction from the upcoming elimination round, but despite the raucousness, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Solve the murder. Win the grand prize.
No biggie.
He looked at Adi on the opposite side of the couch, wondering how he could act so casual. For once, Adi wasn’t nose-deep in a book but rather on his phone, where Beck could make out the Domain’s forums.
Beck’s attention traveled to Sierra, who was sitting on a beanbag in the corner, her face obscured by the same magazine that had been in their welcome bags. Victor Cunningham’s gaze pierced into Beck.
The headline promised a glimpse behind the scenes of Cunningham’s state-of-the-art Sweetbrier Resort. Beck had already read the article four times, practically drooling over the scant details the writer had given about the labyrinthine, puzzle-filled complex.
“That place sounds like paradise, doesn’t it?” Beck said, loud enough to get Sierra’s attention but not so much as to draw the other teams’ notice. “I’m obsessed.”
Sierra glanced at him in confusion, then turned the magazine over to see the cover. “Ugh. You’re one of those. I should have known.”
“What? You aren’t curious?”
“About some pompous nerd Disneyland? Nope.”
It seemed incomprehensible that any contestant onThe Escape Gamewouldn’t be clamoring over themself to get to Sweetbrier. “But there are over two dozen escape rooms in one complex. Even the hotel rooms have built-in puzzles. I heard you need to solve a code to access your minibar!”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“So you can feel like you earned your M&M’s?”
“Uh-huh.” Sierra turned a page of the magazine. “I’m not wasting my time or money on some cheesy, overhyped resort that was built with stolen treasure. Victor Cunningham can bite me.”
Stolen treasure.
Adi’s head swung toward them so fast he dropped his phone on the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“Sweetbrier,” Beck said, not taking his attention from Sierra. “Why did you say the treasure was stolen?”
“He totally lowballed some family out of their property when he bought it. He had Jasper Barrett’s map. He knew the treasure was there. All he had to do was wait for a drought year and buy the land for dirt cheap. It may be legal, but it’s a dog act.”
“I’m sure he compensated the family when he found the treasure,” Adi muttered, picking up his phone.
Sierra snorted. “Yeah. Because multimillionaires love giving handouts to the people they’ve screwed over.”
Victor Cunningham’s confident grin crinkled as Sierra folded the magazine in half. Though only in his forties, Victor was practically a folklore hero.
More than a century ago, a pioneer named Jasper Barrett had struck it rich in the California Gold Rush, only to become so paranoid that he was driven to bury his wealth in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains before he vanished completely, leaving behind a letter and a cryptic map to indicate the location of the gold. Though countless treasure seekers had searched, it was Victor Cunningham—already a self-made entrepreneur by that point—who ultimately cracked the code and unearthed millions of dollars’ worth of gold bars less than a mile from Sweetbrier Creek.
A few years after making headlines, Victor Cunningham broke ground on that same land, naming his resort after the treasure that had changed his reputation from nerdy puzzle maker to legendary treasure hunter.
Beck might have loathed the guy . . . if he wasn’t so effingcool.
The greenroom door swung open and Carter walked in.
