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under Riley’s chin. It had been there before—the spot where I could hear, almost feel, his heart beating beneath me. I breathed in his cologne, woodsy and leathery.
    I was going to a dangerous place. Physically? Maybe. Emotionally? Definitely.
    This trip had been much riskier than I’d anticipated, and now I was literally trapped.
    As a loud rumble filled the air, I jumped, inadvertently pressing myself even closer to Riley.
    “It’s just thunder,” Dr. Turner said. “Everyone relax. We do have some storms coming our way.”
    Great. I’d stepped out of my urban life and into the set of a gothic movie. Lovely.
    The lights flickered above us, and I tensed, waiting for everything to go dark. It just seemed fitting for this moment and the scenario playing out around us.
    “Maybe we should go on to our next move before we run out of time,” Lilsa said. “I like to call this one the Marilyn Monroe.”
    Before she could explain to us exactly what that was, the room went black. Someone screamed. My hands tightened against Riley’s shirt.
    There could potentially be a killer here. I couldn’t let myself forget that. Because this would be the perfect time for someone to strike.
    Then it would be lights out forever for someone else in this room.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 11
    “This is the perfect opportunity for us all to have a heart-to-heart talk.” Dr. Turner’s voice wafted through the darkness. “Our power supply is a bit delicate out here. But I’m sure it will be restored momentarily—much like our marriages. We just have to give everything time.”
    I heard movement, and then a flashlight popped on. I saw that Dr. Turner had pulled a chair into the center of the room. He sat facing us with some kind of book in his hand, like he might recite a bedtime story.
    At the moment, I realized I was clinging to Riley. My hand gripped his shirt, my head nestled under his chin, and I was paralyzed in that position. My cheeks heated, and I drew back so quickly that the couch scooted back.
    With that as an opening, I quickly scrambled away from Riley. I adjusted my shirt and tried to compose myself. Riley didn’t look nearly as frazzled as I felt. In fact, he smiled as he sat up, something warm glimmering in his eyes.
    How could he be so laid-back? Did he have any idea how all this was making me feel?
    No, he probably didn’t. He was a guy, after all. Most guys were clueless or at least they pretended to be. It seemed like they got the better end of the bargain in that regard.
    “Has anyone seen Angelina?” a deep voice said in the distance.
    I swung my head toward the person. It was Bo. Sure enough, the space on the couch beside him was empty.
    I bristled. What could have happened to Angelina in that brief period of darkness? It didn’t make sense.
    Since no one else said anything, I decided to. “Did you hear her get up?”
    “No, but I can’t hear out of my left ear,” Bo said. He was a large man with a barrel chest, a shaved head, and an earring in his left ear. He wore a beer T-shirt, baggy jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes.
    “Did you feel anything?” Dr. Turner asked.
    Bo shook his head. “No. She shot off of me like a cat out of the water when the lights went off. Then she was gone.”
    “Let’s split up and look for her. But no one should go outside,” Dr. Turner warned, his voice grim. “The fog is too thick.”
    “What if we find her just like Steve found Anna?” Ginger asked, her voice hushed and tinged with fear.
    Jim gasped and grabbed her hand. “Don’t talk like that, Ginger.”
    The snooty Griffiths remained icily quiet toward each other and toward everyone in the room. They looked like they couldn’t care less and were just biding their time until they could leave.
    I watched everything with a sad fascination. Of course, I hoped that Angelina was okay. But the dynamics in the room were soap opera worthy. And I had a front-row seat.
    Dr. Turner found more flashlights, and we split