#NoEscape (Volume 3) (#MurderTrending)

by Gretchen McNeil

  Persey leveled her eyes at him. “To ensure he never made it out of that room.”

  Wes pointed at his temple with his index finger and whistled while rotating his wrist, implying she was nuts.

  “I don’t think Persey’s suggestion warrants that type of derision,” Neela said. “In fact, her theory makes a great deal of sense if you consider the strange series of coincidences in our personal overlaps plus the fact that three people have…have…” She swallowed. “Have died already. Whatever is going on, those deaths are real.”

  “I had nothing to do with the Brownes,” Mackenzie said haughtily, though she hadn’t been asked. “And anyone who says otherwise is a filthy, dirty liar.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” Riot said, sounding anything but sincere. “And your ‘confession’ up there about cheating on a competition…that had nothing whatsoever to do with the Prison Break escape room, I’m sure.”

  “It’s a lie!” Mackenzie squealed, actually squealed like she was in pain. A pig recently branded.

  “I didn’t accuse you of anything.” A sly grin danced about the corners of Riot’s mouth. “But your reaction sure the fuck told me everything.”

  “Whether you’re innocent or not doesn’t mean shit,” Kevin said. “Persey and I had nothing to do with Prison Break, and yet we’re stuck here, in the line of fire like everyone else.”

  Mackenzie didn’t miss his insinuation. “I am innocent. I never even met the Brownes.”

  “Come off it, Mack,” Wes said. He was scratching his right arm above the elbow. Repeatedly, obsessively, like he was having some kind of skin reaction. “Everyone knows you’re full of shit.”

  Her mood flipped in an instant from aloof to attack mode. “I don’t see you volunteering information.”

  “That’s right!” Neela cried. “I never heard your confession.” Her eyes were bright with excitement, as if hearing other people confess their deep, dark sins was the highlight of any given day.

  “None of your business,” Wes said.

  “If our lives are on the line,” Neela countered, “I believe that makes it everyone’s business.”

  Wes sneered at her. “Maybe I didn’t confess anything, huh? Ever think of that?”

  “He said he stole something,” Kevin said, staring Wes down.

  Wes rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a candy bar. Everyone heard that.”

  But while Wes assiduously avoided Kevin, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the floor to the slightly deflated air cushion, Kevin hardly moved, his face deadpan. “No, your second confession was also about stealing. But this time, you bribed someone to get what you needed.”

  Neela held up her index finger. “Um, technically, bribing isn’t stealing. I just wanted to—”

  “You’re a fucking liar,” Wes said. The tremor in his voice and the deep shade of fuchsia flooding his cheeks said otherwise.

  Kevin shrugged. “I’m just repeating what you said, dude.”

  “Bullshit!” Wes exploded. He charged Kevin and tried to grab the collar of his shirt. “You were too far away. You couldn’t have heard me.”

  Kevin shrugged. “If you say so.” Then he turned to Persey. “He’s full of shit, you know.”

  “He doesn’t need to tell us,” Persey said, attempting (failing) to suppress her nerves and excitement. Kevin had shared the puzzle piece she needed to explain this tangled web to everyone. “I know why he’s here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Wes arched an eyebrow.

  “Monsieur Poirot,” Kevin said, bowing at the waist as he swept his arm across his body, ushering Persey forward. She hadn’t pegged him as an Agatha Christie fan. “The floor is yours.”

  Persey took a deep breath. Fine. They wanted to hear the truth about this “competition” out loud? She’d give it to them.

  “Room number one,” she began. “The Office. Neela noticed that one of the cubicles had last year’s calendar on the wall with May twenty-second circled in red ink.” She waited, letting the date sink in.

  Kevin’s brow wrinkled up in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

  “That’s the day the Brownes died,” Neela said quietly.

  “Oh.”

  “Their bodies were found right here in this building,” she continued, lower lip quivering as he spoke. “After the secret of the Prison Break escape room went public.”

  Persey reached out and squeezed her hand. “Shared on Daring-Debunker, right?”

  Neela nodded.

  “Which, like Geektacle where you had a power user account, happened to be owned and operated by Arlo.”

  Neela’s face remained unchanged: no gasp, no raised eyebrows, no sign that this information was a surprise to her in any way, shape, or form. If she hadn’t been 100 percent sure that Arlo was the gossipmonger behind DaringDebunker, she’d at least speculated about it.

  Riot, on the other hand, looked genuinely shocked. “Arlo ran that site? Are you sure?”

  “When she stumbled out of the ATM booth, she was completely wigging.” Persey pictured Arlo’s face, drained of color, her eyes darting around in a paranoid frenzy. “Everyone else had to enter their SAT scores to get out, but not her. Arlo started yelling at the countdown clock, threatening to sue Escape-Capades because she thought they’d hacked into her computer and stolen her password. She yelled, ‘You can’t prove I run it!’ and I think she was referring to DaringDebunker.”

  Wes groaned. “She didn’t say, ‘Oh Em Gee, Leah, you totes guessed I run DaringDebunker.’ You’re just making that part up to fit your theory.”

  Persey suppressed a smile. All day she’d been waiting for an opportunity to score at Wes’s expense, knocking his smugness down a peg. And the time had finally arrived.

  “Except you’re forgetting her conversation with Neela in the Collectibles room.”

  Neela cocked her head. “What did I say?”

  “What didn’t you say,” Mackenzie grumbled.

  “Remember when you showed Arlo that non-prize thingy?” Persey said, trying to remember the conversation verbatim. “She said you must have followed her blog and you admitted you did, then shared your screen name.”

  “That’s right!” Neela said with a gasp. “TaraMehta91.”

  “And is that the same screen name you use on DaringDebunker?”

  Neela flushed a deep shade of raspberry. “Um…yeah.” She paused, eyes downcast and shaded by her thickly mascaraed lashes. “You knew?”

  “I guessed. Between what you told me about the Prison Break fiasco and your confession in the Cavethedral, I just put the pieces together.”

  “Knew what?” Riot asked.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t see how it relates to me.” Wes’s obstinacy was probably (actually) a reflection of his own fear.

  “DaringDebunker was where the solution to the final Prison Break puzzle was posted after someone figured it out,” Neela said. Tears streamed down her face. “Only, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. I just thought it was another puzzle challenge from the person who ran the site.”

  Mackenzie’s jaw slackened. “You’re the one who broke the code?”

  Neela’s childlike sob ceased abruptly as she turned toward Mackenzie. “How did you know about the code?”

  “But she didn’t break the code!” Riot said almost simultaneously, at which point Kevin, whose head had been swiveling back and forth like he was watching a tennis match, held up his hands to form a T and eased away from the group.

  “Hold it, time-out, back the truck up. What the fuck is everyone talking about?”

  “The scandal around Prison Break,” Riot sighed. “Try to keep up.”

  Kevin leaned against the wall beside the locked door and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m going to need CliffsNotes or something.”

  Persey didn’t have time to deal with him; she was focused on what Riot had just said. “How do you know that Neela didn’t break the code?”

  He hesitated an instant, trying to decide whether or not he shoul
d tell the truth, then judging by the way the lines around his mouth suddenly smoothed out, he appeared to make up his mind. “Because Shaun did.”

  Wes turned sharply at the name. “Shaun got ahold of that code?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know this because…”

  Riot coolly met Wes’s gaze. “Because I’m the one who gave it to him.”

  THERE WAS A MOMENT OF PRETERNATURAL CALM WHILE Riot’s words hung in the air, his face hard-set as he stared at Wes, daring him to respond. Wes, on the other hand, showed the full range of human emotions in the blink of an eye, all cycling through his face like an acting audition reel in fast forward: confusion, disbelief, realization, acceptance, and, finally, an anger that turned to rage so quickly that Persey barely had time to move out of the way before Wes launched himself at the librarian.

  “You dick!” he cried as he rushed forward, hands aiming for Riot’s neck. “I’ll fucking kill you, you goddamn thief!”

  Riot had seen or at least sensed the attack coming and was able to get his arms up in front of his face to defend himself. He grabbed one of Wes’s hands and wrenched it behind his back. “Really, hypocrite? You’re calling me a thief?”

  “I didn’t steal anything!” Wes roared. He managed to free his pinned hand from Riot’s grasp and clutched at the Mohawk, trying to grab a fistful of gelled hair.

  “Kinda sounds like you did, dude,” Kevin said, making no attempt to break up the fight.

  “Then how did you get your hands on it, huh?” Riot punched at Wes’s side, aiming for his kidneys. “Escape-Capades just handed you a heavily encoded blueprint for the final challenge because you asked nicely and said ‘please’?”

  They continued to whale on each other—headlocks and sucker punches and ill-timed swings that resulted in only minor contact between fist and face. It was like watching two drunk guys wearing blindfolds go at it.

  “Are you really not going to break this up?” Persey asked Kevin at last.

  “Do I have to? This is kind of the best thing ever.”

  “Agreed,” Neela and Mackenzie said in unison.

  Persey sighed. Time was not on their side…even if there wasn’t an active countdown clock. Yet.

  “Fine.” Kevin, who despite being about Wes’s size seemed to tower over him in both bulk and presence, wedged himself between the two assailants. “Cut it out, children. You’re both pretty.”

  Panting, Wes and Riot gave in quickly to Kevin, separating almost as soon as he stepped between them. Wes spun away, bent forward, hands on knees, while Riot fell back against the side of the air cushion, slouching into its folds, gassed. Neither wanted to be the first to quit, but neither was interested in continuing.

  Kevin clicked his tongue. “They sure the fuck don’t teach you to fight at Ivy League schools.”

  “I fight…” Riot said, gasping, “with words…not hands.”

  “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Meanwhile, Mackenzie, unfazed by her ex-whatever’s fistfight, had been staring at Riot, eyes pinched, like a nearsighted person trying to read a sign on the other side of the room. Then, suddenly, she straightened up.

  “The UMass library!”

  Riot was silent as his panting gradually slowed. But if he thought that would throw Mackenzie off, he was gravely mistaken.

  “You work there. Or at least you did, a year ago. I remember now. And we…” She let her voice trail off, remembering. “How did you know?”

  “I overheard you in the stacks.” Riot must have realized there was no point denying it. “You were in six fifty-two point eight. Looking for books on code breaking. I was shelving two rows away, but I heard you discussing Escape-Capades and the Prison Break challenge.”

  “I knew it,” Wes said. “You’re a thief.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Riot said. “But you two morons had set up your laptop with the encoded file and then disappeared to screw in the bathroom without even dimming the screen.”

  “Classy,” Kevin said, nodding.

  “I just took a few photos on my phone. Enough to realize that you hadn’t exactly come by that information accidentally.”

  “I thought you said you went to Harvard?” Neela asked. She still sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, but her misery from earlier seemed to have abated somewhat.

  Riot nodded. “Undergrad. I’m at UMass for my master’s.”

  “To recap…” Kevin pushed himself off the wall. “For those of us who have no fucking clue what’s going on, Wes and Mackenzie—who were banging—got their hands on some secret code shit—”

  “I didn’t get my hands on anything,” Mackenzie said, correcting him.

  Riot snorted. “Except Wes.”

  “Jealous?” She sidled closer to Kevin as she addressed the question to Riot. It was as if her entire reason for being revolved around what men thought of her. Which was fine, if that was her thing. Just kinda sad.

  “Not at all,” Riot said. His eyes trailed to Persey. “I prefer smart girls.”

  No one had ever called Persey smart before. It felt…nice.

  “One more time from the top.” Kevin laughed. Persey wasn’t exactly sure what was funny considering how many people had already died, but whatever. “Wes stole some secret code shit and—”

  Wes erupted, throwing his hands in the air. “I didn’t steal it! How many fucking times do I have to say it?”

  “Right,” Kevin said. “You bribed it.” He turned to Neela. “Is that a verb?”

  “Sure!”

  “I didn’t do that either,” Wes snapped. But his anger, like his fight, was ebbing.

  “Then how did those coded plans come to be in your possession?” Neela asked, genuinely confused. “It’s not like you worked for Escape-Capades or something.”

  Worked for Escape-Capades…“Brian.”

  Wes shrunk back at the name, his shoulders hunching so severely they threatened to turn him inside out. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  Bullshit. “The cubicle in the Office. The one with the outdated calendar. Neela and I found a photo in one of the drawers. Four people in Halloween costumes, one of whom was named Brian. And in the Boyz Distrikt, you slipped and called B.J. ‘Brian.’ Because you recognized him.”

  “You’re insane.”

  You have no idea. “Neela, what else did we find in that desk?”

  Neela piped up immediately, listing off items as if she was still in front of the desk, naming things as she saw them. “A movie stub for a Fast and Furious sequel, packets of generic sweetener, an audition notice for a casino floor show, some statements for credit cards maxed out from cash advances, and a bunch of receipts from the Shangri-La bar at the Lotus Hotel.”

  Wes shrugged. “See? Nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, please,” Mackenzie said with a snort. “That’s your parents’ casino!”

  Kevin arched an eyebrow. “Wes’s parents own a casino?”

  “Yep,” Mackenzie said, answering for the now-silent Wes.

  “Holy fajita.” Neela whistled low after her fake curse. “I knew you were rich, but I didn’t realize it was ‘my parents own a Vegas casino’ kind of rich.”

  “What kind of rich did you think he was?” Kevin asked.

  “I don’t know.” Neela thought about it for half a second. “Like, regular kind of rich.”

  “There is no regular kind of rich, honey,” Mackenzie said. “Just assholes who think they can buy the world.”

  For once, Persey agreed with her.

  “So what, this guy was in debt and you paid him cash in exchange for this secret code thing?” Kevin pressed. “Seems like making seven the hard way.”

  “Don’t you have a trust fund?” Riot asked Wes, wrinkling his nose as if disgusted by the very idea of wealth.

  “What does that have to do with it?” Wes snapped.

  “I mean, if you’re rich, why do you give two flying fucks about some stupid
escape room competition? Is your ego so huge that you just get off on winning whether you earned it or not? Because the million-dollar prize couldn’t have meant shit to you.”

  “Oh, yeah it did,” Mackenzie said, smiling sweetly. A honey trap. “Because he’s not rich. His parents have all the money, and they were about to cut him off.”

  Persey tensed, disgusted by the idea that she and Wes had anything in common. He was a cocky, spoiled rich kid who expected everyone to do for him and had absolutely no problem taking credit for it. He was vain, self-serving, and the least likely person on the planet to help anyone but himself. Persey, meanwhile, had self-esteem that was so low there were cockroaches who had a better self-image, and though she’d also been raised with wealth and privilege, she’d never taken any of it for granted. In fact, she viewed her privilege as more of a curse than a blessing: Her father had wielded his money like a (deadly) weapon, holding it over her head and using it to control every aspect of his children’s lives. Her brother had been able to live (mostly) within the mold, but Persey had not, and because she’d never been taught to do anything by herself, when her father cut her out of the family will, she was basically cast out into a world she was unequipped to deal with.

  But unlike Wes, or Persey’s brother, who would do anything to maintain his access to free money, Persey would have given it all up—the big house, the pool, the private school, the on-call drivers—for a father who loved her unconditionally. Or at all.

  Persey bit her lip, forcing the memory of her dad from her mind. He was gone. She’d been disinherited. And the only thing she could afford to worry about right now was her future, which, at the moment, wasn’t feeling particularly long.

  “If Wes didn’t have any money, then how did he bribe Brian?” Neela asked. She looked pinched, as if defending Wes was physically painful.

  “Receipts at the casino bar and cash advances on credit cards?” Kevin said. “Sounds like Brian had a gambling problem.”

  Persey nodded. “Of course. I should have realized. Wes couldn’t bribe Brian with money, but he might have been able to wipe out his debts at the Shangri-La.”