Page 68 of Little Shattered Dreams

“I’m not sure. She said she wants to tell you herself. She was all hyped up on the phone. Whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s juicy.”

“Let’s head back to my place and call her.”

We made a beeline for the front door, stopping when we heard the distinct, blood-curdling sound of someone screaming.

CHAPTER36

We followed the scream we’d heard to one of the staff rooms, where we found the door ajar, and Chef Tyler sobbing and rocking Clara in his arms. Blood was on his shirt, his hands, his shoes—everywhere.

I scanned the room and saw a gun resting on the floor, a few feet from where Tyler stood. Simone and I exchanged glances. I thought about reaching for my own gun, but my gut instinct told me to wait.

“Tyler, I’m going to need you to back away from Clara,” I said. “Right now.”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I didn’t do anything.”

I approached and knelt, assessing Clara’s wound. Unlike Quinn’s, Clara had been shot in the chest. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. I checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

“You need to listen to Georgiana,” Simone said, “and back away from Clara. Okay?”

He shook his head over and over again. “She was my friend. I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not saying you would. But this is a crime scene now.”

He removed a hand from the back of her head, lowering her to the floor with the utmost tenderness and care. As he stood, he stared at his bloodied hands, and burst into tears. He took one step back, then another and another until he reached the wall and slid down it, burying his head in his hands.

“I know you’re shaken up, and it may be a struggle to talk about it right now,” I said. “But I need you to tell me what happened and how you came to be here, in Clara’s room.”

He started to speak a few times and then stopped, clearing his throat each time as if it would help the words come when they didn’t.

“We were … we were, ah … supposed to meet up and go for a hike together after I finished serving lunch. She didn’t show up at our meeting spot, so I came looking for her, and that’s when … that’s when … I walked into her place and I … I …”

“Found her?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“How long ago did you get here?” I asked.

“Umm, right before you did.”

“Did you see anyone on your way over here? Anyone coming or going?”

“No.”

“Was Clara alive when you walked in?”

“No.”

“Was the door open?” I asked.

“No.”

“And you just walked into her place when she didn’t come to the door?”

“It was unlocked, so … yeah.”

I glanced at the time. It was almost four in the afternoon. “We saw you in the dining hall about forty-five minutes ago. You cleared our plates. When were you supposed to meet Clara?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

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