“The belle of the ball has arrived,” Susie muttered.

  Belle couldn’t help but be curious about the relationship Susie had with her big sister. It must have been hard growing up in the shadow of someone who naturally drew the spotlight. Maybe even reveled in it. Belle would’ve loved to have a sister or brother.

  She wondered about the rest of the dynamics between the guests. Molly’s brother, Peter, and his friends, brought a jovial spirit to the room, but if you looked at him when he thought no one was watching, something was there, simmering.

  There were his friends, Little Pete and Joe, then there was Kara. Her short red hair, cut in a cute bob, seemed to match the smattering of freckles across her nose. A different kind of beauty when compared to Molly.

  A good-looking man, who didn’t seem to fit, and who she believed was the man Molly pushed out of the canoe, stood off to the side. He seemed older than Lucas, with dark hair and a fully grown, thick beard. He was handsome, but Belle couldn’t figure out how he was connected to everyone. The family lawyer? A godfather?

  “Darling.” A man approached, all smiles.

  Belle sucked in a gasp of air at the sound of the voice. It had to be the man from the balcony. He was devastatingly handsome, with a devilish grin, and a well-toned body under the khakis and dress-up shirt. His dark hair was messy, but it was the kind of messy that caused a girl’s heart to throb.

  “Chase,” Molly stated coolly, glaring at him. Hardly the look you’d give someone who just called you Darling. Then she turned toward everyone, “Welcome, welcome. Thank you for attending my big birthday bash! I’m turning thirty!”

  There was a smattering of claps, so Belle joined in whole-heartedly. Bixby added a whistle. Belle studied Chase, the way he looked at Molly adoringly; the way she ignored him. There was definitely a story between those two.

  “Well, thank you.” She noted Belle and her gang. She blinked, as if trying to figure out who they were. Like she should know and any second a name would pop into her head.

  “Happy Birthday, Molly!” Belle approached. “Thank you for the invite. It came to my Aunt Eliza Baron, but she’s passed, so we came in her place.”

  “Eliza Baron…” Molly tapped her chin. It was obvious when she remembered. “Oh, yes, Grand Mummy’s friend. I’m sorry I didn’t know her well. But welcome!” She hugged and air kissed Belle, shook Lucas and Bixby’s hand, then leaned over to tap Lexie on the nose. She said something that made Lexie break into a smile. Then she breezed past to speak with all her guests, like a proper hostess.

  Minutes later, they sat down to a dinner of grilled chicken and vegetable skewers. Gladys had a small crew with her that brought out the serving platters. A giant bowl of fresh salad with mixed greens popped with color thanks to the cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and croutons on the side. Steam rose from a platter of grilled corn with a bowl of garlic butter.

  Dinner was interesting. Belle, Bixby, and Lucas flashed each other curious looks, like they were all dying to talk about what was happening before them. The conversation felt forced, stilted. Molly kept up a cheerful pretense, peppering everyone with compliments.

  “Why Petie,” she gushed at her brother. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You’re looking well. Joe and Little Pete.” Little Pete’s face turned crimson. All the guys probably crushed on her.

  “That’s Peter,” her brother grumbled.

  “I know, I know. It’s been hard to make the switch,” Molly said.

  “It’s been twelve years,” he responded, drily.

  “I’ll get there. I promise! Switching to Peter, instead of Petie, will be my birthday gift to you.” Then she giggled, except no one joined in with her.

  “And who’s this you brought?” Molly asked, motioning toward the woman with the cute bobbed red hair.

  “This is Kara. She’s one of the guys,” he said.

  “Hi there,” Kara said.

  It was easy to remain quiet while Molly worked hard to include everyone. She knew the right questions to ask that weren’t invasive or too personal, but allowed everyone to get to know you. For example, everyone learned Belle and Bixby worked at a coffee shop, that Lucas was Lexie’s uncle—but Molly didn’t press and ask why or what happened to the parents.

  Belle learned that the man with the beard was Max. He was also extremely good-looking, and she couldn’t help but notice the protective stance he took toward Molly. Definitely, the lawyer or a close friend of the family.

  By the end of dinner, Belle thoroughly liked Molly.

  “Okay, now time for the games!” Molly cried. “We’ll have ice cream sundaes later. The big birthday celebration is tomorrow night. Hope everyone brought their dancing shoes, because this place will be hopping!”

  “Fun. Can’t wait,” Susie said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm.

  They gathered in the sunroom, which now twinkled from the glow of the lights strung across the ceiling. There was a warm breeze coming through the windows, the air still thick with clinging humidity.

  Lucas nudged Belle. “The storm hasn’t hit. I can’t believe it.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Bixby said, “and it will go around us.”

  In the room, Bixby had set up a station to make the coconut crunch lattes. He offered everyone a glass. Belle accepted hers gladly, welcoming the icy flavor of creamy coconut and caramel with coffee that tickled her taste buds, cooling her off. She noticed Molly poured some liquid courage from a flask into her glass when no one was looking.

  That continued as they played charades and other group games. When Molly sensed everyone was tiring, she offered one last suggestion, “Let’s play Wink Killer.” She squealed with delight. “Remember Petie, Susie, all the times we played with Mummy and Daddy on hot summer nights just like this one!”

  Thunder rolled in the distance. The breeze grew stronger, closer to a gust. It blew through the room. Somewhere, branches hit against the house. Belle shivered despite the heat.

  Lexie grabbed Belle’s hand. “I know this game.”

  “Great.” Having lived a sheltered life with her aunt and uncle, Belle loved new experiences, like kayaking, and learning games. Especially when everyone seemed to know how to play.

  They sat in the circle and took turns pulling folded papers from a hat. If your paper had an X on it, you were the killer. As the killer, the goal was to wink at someone and not get caught winking. If the killer winked at you, you were dead and out of the game. If you were the killer, you wanted to kill everyone until there was one person left.

  It was fun. It was tense, but Belle wasn’t sure if it was from the game or the underlying tension between everyone.

  After a few seconds, Susie said, “I’m dead.”

  “Oh, come on, sis. The fun is in playing up the drama! Show us how to die properly.”

  “Can’t. Already dead,” Susie said.

  Another minute passed, then Chase stood to his feet, his hands grasping his throat. He gagged. He coughed. Finally, he rasped out, “Someone killed me,” then he collapsed to the floor.

  “Bravo! Bravo!” Molly cried. “Now that’s how to die.”

  Then Claire, who died by just sagging against the couch, rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

  Slowly, the people in the circle were picked off one by one. Belle kept looking at the eyes, trying to catch someone winking. This killer was good. Belle always believed the eyes were the mirror to the soul and as she studied each person in the circle, she noticed a lot. She saw everything from heartbreak to envy to malice, or, it was all in her imagination due to the threatening sky and the tense mood of this group.

  By this time, Molly had to be tipsy. Belle had seen her grab more than one drink and pour from her flask every time. Belle wondered what was wrong. It was her birthday, yet Molly didn’t seem very happy.

  Finally, Kara burst to her feet, pointing at Molly. “I saw you wink! You’re the killer.” She said it with such satisfaction, like she enjoyed ruining the game.

  Molly wavered in her seat. “I am not the killer,” she said, giggling. “I wouldn’t want to kill someone. Well, maybe,” she said, slyly, “if they’re a two-timing cheat who can’t keep his ding dong in his pants.”

  “Okay, I think it’s Lexie’s bedtime.” Lucas shot to his feet.

  “Great one, sis. Way to traumatize the youth in our midst,” Susie said.

  “Oh, you just like to point out everything I do wrong. Can’t you ever say one nice thing?” Molly cried, slurring. “It’s my birthday!”

  “Maybe someday.”

  Max went to Molly’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How about I make you some coffee? I’d say the games are over.”

  She shrugged him off, desperately looking at everyone as if wanting help. When no one offered or said anything, Belle’s heart melted for the birthday girl. “I wouldn’t mind a cup. Want to come with me?”

  In the kitchen, it didn’t take long for the coffee to be burbling, the scent of strong hazelnut filling the air. Belle breathed it in, wishing they’d brought some of Bixby’s famous coffee syrups and creamers. She poured two mugs, then joined Molly on the stool next to her.

  “Why are you being so nice?” Molly asked, cradling the mug like it was gold.

  “It’s what I would want someone to do for me,” Belle said, softly.

  They fell into a comfortable silence, then Molly spoke again. This time, she kept talking like she didn’t expect an answer. “I was supposed to get engaged tomorrow night…it was going to be the best weekend of my life…it was going to be…the start of my life…with Chase.” Then she started sobbing, tears flowing and dripping into her coffee.

  Belle placed an arm around Molly. “I’m sorry.” She would have asked more questions, more than willing to be a sounding board, because she understood pain and sorrow, but it almost looked like Molly was about to doze off, or pass out.

  “It’s all because of that slut…” Molly said, with venom in her tone. “…whoever she is. She’s a slut, slut, slut.”

  Claire appeared in the doorway. She offered Belle a smile of appreciation. “Thank you. Sorry, I was in the restroom. I’ll take Molly up to bed.” But when Claire tried to lead Molly away with a light touch and soft words, Molly stiffened. “I’m staying right here. I’ll go to bed when I want to. Nice of you to help now. Where were you a couple of weeks ago?”

  With that, Claire stopped trying. She sighed. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, Molly. When you’ve sobered up.”

  Belle hated leaving Molly alone, so she sat for a while. Finally, Molly said, “I’d like to be alone.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m feeling better. I’ll just finish the coffee, then head to bed.”

  “Sorry you’re having such a hard time,” Belle said, and meant it.

  Something in her voice must have registered with Molly. She looked at Belle, like really looked at her. “I’m glad you came, Belle Baron.”

  “Me, too.”

  It happened a couple of hours later. The brewing storm finally hit. Thankfully, at the first crack of lightning, they’d gathered inside Lucas’ bedroom, to wait out the storm. Lightning streaked across the sky in blinding white flashes. Thunder cracked like a whip.

  Every one of them jumped. Belle cringed, inching closer to everyone in the big bed. She hated storms, and this time was no different.

  “I’ve never seen a storm like this!” Lexie whimpered.

  Lucas wrapped his arm around everyone. “We’ll make it. We just need to wait it out.”

  Again, a bright light flashed and thunder roared. The house shook as the wind whipped through the trees. Driving rain splattered against the windows. There was a zap. In that split second, all the electrical devices in the room went dark.

  “We lost power,” Bixby whispered.

  The storm raged on for a few minutes, then there was a brief calm. That peace was interrupted by a piercing scream—one filled with terror.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucas jolted, his body rigid as the scream echoed. His heart thumped, his hands balled into fists, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  He’d been telling himself to mind his own business the entire night. But from the moment they’d arrived, every cop instinct had been in high gear. Almost as if he were waiting for something to happen.

  “What was that?” Belle whispered.

  “More like, who was that?” Lucas echoed.

  “Maybe someone had a bad dream,” Lexie said.

  Fast as he could, Lucas was up and slipping into his flip-flops. “I’ll go check it out. Everyone stay here.” He looked at Bixby. “Lock the door when I leave.”

  Then he was out and heading downstairs to find the source of the scream. It was pitch dark. Between the flashes of lightning and by the light of his phone, he crept down the stairs.

  He wanted to rush, but he cautiously scanned each room as he made his way through the first floor, not sure what to expect.

  There was nothing in the great room or the dining room. As he approached the kitchen, it was silent. No more screams. He hoped it was the pause between a fight, or he’d enter to find the two persons making up. There seemed to be enough drama to go around, but something deep in his bones told him it was much worse than petty grievances.

  Arriving in the doorway of the large kitchen, he saw a woman standing with her back to him. She was ramrod straight, unmoving, arms dangling by her sides. From the short red hair, he recognized Kara, a friend of Peter’s.

  “Kara?” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.

  She turned and lifted her ghostly white face and wide, shocked expression, toward him. Her eyes blinked rapidly at the blinding light of his phone.

  He lowered it to the side so he could still see.

  “Something bad happened,” she murmured, voice cracking with emotion. “Very bad…very bad. Awful…it’s awful.” Absentmindedly, she reached up to grasp something by her neck that wasn’t there. Maybe a scarf or the edge of a bathrobe, but then her arms dropped back by her sides.

  Unfortunately, he’d seen people in shock before and Kara showed all the classic signs. The low, shallow breathing, the confused state of mind.

  He could tell something bad had happened, but instead of pressing for answers, he moved quietly through the kitchen, cursing himself that he hadn’t brought a weapon—he had thought surely on vacation it wouldn’t be needed and he could leave all that behind. He rounded the island in the middle of the kitchen.

  His heart almost stopped.

  Molly St. James lay motionless on the floor—quite dead.

  There was no question about it. No need to check for a pulse. Someone with an excellent shot had put a bullet right in her forehead. Someone here had training. Her eyes stared vacantly ahead.

  Suddenly, his mind was racing with everything he had seen that night. The haughty look Molly had aimed at Chase, who had called her darling. He’d received a massive cold shoulder. The sarcastic barbs Molly’s sister, Susie, constantly threw at her, when Molly had been clearly trying to breach gaps in her relationship with people tonight. The strange tension in this group of people, like invisible strings, connecting all of them.

  He refocused on the body, the secrets it held. A bullet to the forehead meant she looked her killer in the face. It was a straightforward shot. Unless it came through the window. He walked the perimeter of the room, aiming the light at all the windows. They were all shut, the air conditioner had been running. No panes were broken or shattered. It hadn’t come from the outside.

  It was someone on the inside.

  This was intentional.

  Someone might have lifted a gun in the heat of passion, an argument. Why bring a gun if they weren’t going to use it?

  Maybe they were accusing or threatening Molly of something. Molly was a feisty gal and seemed more than capable of throwing any attitude right back at someone. It only took certain words, an insult, or the truth, for someone to lose it.

  For that person to pull the trigger.

  Especially if they harbored hate in their heart, or extreme envy.

  Oh yes, this was a crime of passion.

  Lucas pictured it in his mind. Maybe this person didn’t come to the party with the intention to commit murder, but when they lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, they knew exactly what they were doing.

  “Kara,” he said softly. “Can you tell me what happened?” Yes, the poor girl was in shock, a complete mess, body shaking, but he wasn’t here to offer comfort. He’d leave that to her friends.

  “I…I…the storm. I couldn’t sleep. I hoped to make some tea…” She trailed off.

  What happened next, what Kara saw, was what Lucas wanted from her right now, before everyone else arrived, because they would arrive. Everyone must have heard that scream.

  She wiped her eyes, still shaken. “I’m sorry. I barely know her…I mean knew her, but I’m close to Peter. I don’t do well with shock…I’ve never seen something like this. It’s terrible.” Her gaze dropped to the body. A shudder rolled through her.

  “Did you hear or see anything when you entered the kitchen?”

  She shook off the brain fog. “I was in the dining room. That’s when I heard the angry voices. Molly’s was high, close to shrieking. The other voice was deep, male.”

  “Did you hear anything they said?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “It’s all a blur right now. It happened so fast.”

  “Try. It could be important,” he urged, feeling the pressure, hearing the imagined footsteps of the guests coming to the kitchen. What he needed to do was call the cops. This wasn’t his case. This wasn’t his jurisdiction. No one had to answer any of his questions, but he could gather crucial information for the detective on the case.

  “His voice was too low. Just a mumble. And there was the storm. I couldn’t understand anything he said.”