“Still trying to track down Summer. I will head up with it as soon as can.”

Westley quickly read Holly’s text and pocketed his phone. He tried racking his brain for some footing on this case. Jordan Vernal is not the small little man that Beth had given them. There was a female accomplice who had been unaccounted for and The Order of Dying Star had returned to his life. Robert snapped his fingers at him.

“Straight Razor, you with us?”

Westly nodded and took his seat next to Robert. Robert had commandeered them an abandoned office on the second floor next to the “U” shaped balcony overlooking the main atrium. Jordan was handcuffed, his large palms folded together, resting peacefully in the center of the table. His eyes had large bags under them, and he was constantly looking at the floor. To Westly, he seemed a mixture of tired and scared. Westly and Robert were across from him at the front of the desk. If anyone were to walk in, it would appear like the world’s most intense job interview. Jordan shifted uneasily and went for his pocket before stopping and putting his hand back on the desk.

“What were you reaching for?” Robert barked.

“Nothing, just some gum, I quit smoking and when I get nervous, I need a piece…I don’t mean, need, need…just it makes me feel better. But I don’t want to be difficult if you guys want my hands out then out, they will stay.”

His voice was much higher than one would expect for a man his size, soft, almost cartoony in nature. Every word was said with big gulps of breath as if he hadn’t had time to adjust to the altitude. His face gained more redness until it almost matched his beard and hair. Robert sighed.

“You may have a piece of gum, Mr. Vernal, if it will help you feel more at ease. As I told you when we brought you in, you are not under arrest, the handcuffs are just a precaution given the intenseness of this case.”

Jordan nodded and began fishing for a piece of gum, finding one, he stuffed it into his mouth like chipmunk, and began chewing with loud smacking sounds. Robert looked at Westly and motioned him to go first. Westly sighed.

“Officer Estevez tells me you don’t have any ID on you?”

“That’s right, I got in a bad way with the booze and the drugs and if I can’t ID myself no one will sell me anything. It’s why I don’t carry much cash.”

“Has not been my experience,” Westly mumbled.

“How do you know the groom?” Robert interjected.

“I mean we went to college together, I never interacted with his groups of friends as they were mostly math people and I was, well, little more challenged in the subject. But I did know his girlfriend, wife, um, fiancé well. We were in the fencing club together.”

Jordan began itching under his cuff. The metal seemed like it was giving him a slight rash.

“Tell us more about the club?” Westly said, leaning back in his chair.

“Wells, we all were a little bit of history nerds, but we also were kind of athletic. Not so much that we wanted to be on team but enough that we didn’t want to spend out entire day in the library. Forest, he suggested that we start fencing and gave us all flower names. I was Marigold.”

“That is not what we heard. We heard you were Foxgloves.”

He shook his head violently, almost throwing the gum out of his mouth.

“No...no…no, that was Brock.”

He lifted his handcuffs and wiped his nose.

“Tell us more about Brock,” Westly continued

“I wanted to like Brock, but he just got so intense. He would read these dark books and bring them to fencing matches. He would try and get Autumn and Summer to join his dark “enlightenment.” Summer would run and hide when he arrived, but Autumn was always nice to him. Forest threatened to kick him off the team if he didn’t shape up.”

“Did Brock ever mention the Order of Dying Star?” Westly inquired.

Jordan nodded.

“He said Dying Star would purify your soul in the dark abyss forever making you whole. The sacrifices was to be completely removed of everything from the physical world.”

“Like the senses?” Robert asked.

“The senses?” Jordan asked, confused.

Westly grunted in annoyance.

A faint knock at the door behind them stopped Jordan’s story. Westly stood up and went to the door. He opened it a crack and peered out. Holly stood holding the yearbook from Beth’s room.

“As requested, is it him?”

“I am not sure. Do me a favor, ask Summer about Brock Glass, see if she knew anything about this.”

Holly nodded and Westly shut the door. Westly brought the yearbook and set it front of Jordan. It landed hard and fanned open. Westly paged through the book and landed on the picture of the fencing club.

“Forgive me if I find your story about Brock a little hard to swallow, Jordan. You have no ID because of drugs and alcohol but I know several guys off Colfax Ave that would sell you anything for right price. The Order of Dying Star doesn’t require sacrifices, they require tribute; that whole needing be separate from the earth, that meant no worldly possessions or connections, not dismemberment. And lastly the person who carried Autumn up to her room could lift her up three stories and set her in a bed. Brock doesn’t even look like he could lift a feather, but you could.”

Jordan’s eyes swelled up with tears.

“Autumn is dead? How-what?”

Robert grabbed Westly’s arm.

“I hadn’t gotten around to telling him that.”

Jordan began sobbing uncontrollably. His breath was loud and squeaky with every sob.

“Who…would…hurt…Autumn…she…was…a…saint!” Jordan moaned.

Robert stood up and made his way to the mini bar under the desk. Cracking it open he pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Jordan. Jordan nodded a “thank you,” took the water, and started to chug it.

“Slowly!” Robert coached.

Jordan nodded again and began taking slow sips. Westly paged through the yearbook.

“You want to explain this,” Westly growled.

Jordan set the water down. Several beads filled his beard. He sniffed again, wiping his now puffy eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you want.”

Westly lifted the year book up and showed the front section with all the class pictures had been torn out.

“Why would Autumn tear all the class pictures out of her own yearbook,” Westly said sharply.

“I...”

Westly stood up.

“Your accomplice has been playing cat and mouse with me and mine and I am little sick of it. So, what is your game Jordan?”

Jordan frantically shook his head.

“No game honest! I just came for the wedding. I didn’t know honest! It was Brock, he’s sick.”

“You guys need to do your research better. The Order of Dying Star doesn’t create this hocus pocus mentality to screw with people. So, let’s try this again. Who are you working with and where can we find them!”

Westly grabbed Jordan’s shirt, pulling him on the desk. Robert broke them up.

“Outside now!” He ordered.

Westly let go of Jordan, who was sniveling and shaking. Robert pushed Westly out the door onto the balcony. Once they shut the door, Robert sucker-punched Westly in the ribs. Westly crouched and reached for Robert’s jacket.

“No more of your cowboy antics Straight Razor! You have been spinning in circles for the last hour and you know it.”

“I don’t see anyone screwing with you, Robert.”

Robert pulled Westly to his feet.

“You have been.”

Westly nodded.

“Look, he has you rattled, and it doesn’t do us any good if you browbeat this man.

Westly broke free of Robert’s grip.

“He’s hiding something. The Order of Dying-”

“Casper was seven years ago; the Order could have changed up their game.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I believe Jordan doesn’t have the guts to dismember a woman and place her in a bed. Do you?”

Westly shook his head.

“But he is hiding something Robert.”

“I know. I will get it from him. I need you away so I can get through. Find Holly and see if you can’t find his accomplice. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good, cause I am not kidding. Anymore cowboy shit and I will have you arrested for assault.”

They exchanged flip-offs and Westly made his way down the large staircase. He again ran the crime through his head. Autumn lying spread out on the bed. The jacket, the mirror, the hostess, the sea foam green hair, all of it was swarming his brain. He stepped down into the lobby. The elevator opened and Holly emerged and waved him down. He walked up to her.

“Hey, I was just heading up to see you. What are you doing down here?”

“Robert kicked me out.”

“Again, what did you do, punch the guy?”

Westly bite his lip.

“You punched the guy didn’t you.”

“I grabbed him.”

Holly shook her head.

“Did you get anything from Summer?” Westly asked.

“She said her fencing days were spent high and enjoyable, but she tried not to think about them. She did however, say Brock helped Autumn and Jeremy get their wedding here. He works in the sales department for the hotel.”

“On site?”

“Yes, according to Summer, Brock was the loveable teddy bear everyone wants to hug. She said she missed seeing him.”

“That isn’t how Jordan described him. Let’s take a look at his office.”

The two of them walked up to Maggie at the front desk. She was putting her coat on and looked like she was leaving. Holly rang the bell. Maggie looked back at them, giving a false smile she approached them.

“How may I assist you two again?”

Westly started to talk but Holly cut him off.

“Is there any change we could see Brock Glass’ office?”

Maggie’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no, Brock is such a sweetheart, how did he get messed up in this.”

“That is what we would like to know.”

Maggie motioned them back behind and walked down the hallway again. They walked past the break room. The hallway was painted a dark ebony, but it was quite bright as they had lit the area with florescent lights. They came to an office with the name plate. “Brock Glass, Regional Manager of Sales”. Maggie reached into her pocket of keys and opened the door for them. It was simple office. A couple of banners for promotions and a few plaques on the wall. A simple brown desk with a laptop took up the majority of the office. Behind it were two plain white bookcases. Westly clicked on the light. There were several papers scattered on the furniture and on the floor. Westly turned back to Maggie.

“Has anyone been in here recently?”

“No one should have been. Mr. Glass started his vacation yesterday.”

“Oh, course he did.”

Westly and Holly entered and began looking around. The room looked off, but Westly couldn’t put his finger on why. Holly opened the drawers and began rummaging through the papers. Westly walked to the center of the room. On the far wall from the desk was a large oil painting of the hotel. It was layered in greens and blues and made the small office look large with its depth. Westly looked over at the rest of the wall. Several nails hung on each wall.

“What kind of sales guy has no pictures of himself or of anything he has sold?” Westly asked.

Holly lifted her head.

“That is odd.”

Westly walked over the desk. It was firm, and light from the desk lamp cast was cast at an odd angle. He tapped Holly on the shoulder.

“Help me move the desk.”

Holly and Westly both gripped the desk and lifted it up and forward a bit. It was made of solid wood, so even moving it slightly was exhausting. As the desk moved from its location, the loud sound of cracking wood filled the room.

“Do you think we broke it?” Holly asked.

Westly shook his head. He moved to the front of the desk. Gripping the bottom drawer, he yanked hard. The drawer came out, snapping more wood as it did. Holly clicked on her flash light and the two of them stared in the opening. Several empty frames were hidden in the crevice. Westly stood up and looked at the bookcase.

“Someone is going to a lot of trouble to make sure we don’t know what Brock looks like. If you had to hide a bunch of photos quickly, where would you do it?” Westly asked.

“I am not sure.” Holly responded.

Westly walked over the bookcase. He ran his finger on the top of the books several times until his hand met a black book on the far right. He pulled this book from the shelf and opened it. Several photos fell from its pages and littered the floor. Westly picked one up. His face snarled as he recognized the man in the photo. His bright red hair and beard were unmistakable. He turned to Holly.

“Do you still have those crime scene photos of Autumn?” He said calmly.

“Yes” she responded.

“May I have one.”

Holly was confused, but she reached into her purse and took one of Autumn’s face and handed it to him. Westly took it, walking out of the office. Holly followed quickly behind.

“Wes, what are you doing?” She called to him.

Westly ignored her, walking quickly out of the back hallways, almost in a run heading up the large staircase.

“Westly!” Holly called again.

She was close behind him, but he wasn’t slowing down. He made it up to the top “U’ shape balcony. In one quick motion he threw open the office door, grabbed Jordan by the collar and threw him to the floor, shoving the photo in face.

“You lying sack of shit!” He yelled.

Jordan screamed and Robert stood up.

“I was just in your office, Brock. Look what I found. A pretty picture of you holding a big damn check. Look who’s name on it. Where is Jordan?”

Brock stumbled over his own tongue. Westly tossed the photo to the side and began punching Brock repeatedly. Robert and Holly stood, both dumbfounded. Westly pulled the crime scene photo and slapped Brock with it.

“Look! Look! Did you do this? Did Jordan do this? Did you stand there silent while her face was shredded? Answer me?”

Brock’s mouth fell open. The gum now covered in blood fell to the floor. Robert and Holly both grabbed Westly, as he continued to punch Brock. Brock rolled over and started crying.

“Jordan said she was at peace. I…didn’t know about the mutilation.” Brock cried.

“Where. Is. Jordan. Brock?”

“In the woods. Camped half a mile up the mountain. I am sorry, Autumn!!! Jordan said you were free,” he screamed.

Robert picked them both up. Reaching into his pocket, he cuffed Westly.

“Good job, but I did warn you. Let’s go.”

Robert led both of them out of the room. Holly blocked his way.

“Robert…” she stuttered.

“I warned him Holly-”

He was distracted by a thunderous sound of feet running towards them; looking out at the balcony he saw a small person dressed all in black running full speed toward them.

“No Jordan!” Brock screamed.

Robert let go of Westly and reached for his gun. He was not in time though as the figure was upon them. Tackling Brock out of Robert’s grip the two sailed over the banister and began the long fall to the ground. Holly was caught in the middle and went over the edge with them. Robert fell back onto the staircase, rolling down five stairs before catching himself. Westly leaned over the side just catching Holly’s sleeve before she soared to the floor. Westly hooked his feet on the banister for support, the cuffs cutting into his wrists. He watched, almost in slow motion, as the figure and Brock landed hard on the tile. Brock’s cranium broke open like an egg, sending blood and brains all over the floor. The figure lept up, seemingly unharmed and ran out the front door, leaving the whole hotel in horror.