Page 32 of The Dinner Party

There’s only silence. Could he have left? He did say it was a mistake to call the police. It seems that he does not want to be present when they arrive.

You return to the sitting room to wait. About half an hour later, you hear the doorbell ring. When you answer the door, there are two officers standing in front of you. You let them in.

“Thank God you’re here!” you say. “As I said on the phone, I was working as a waitress at this dinner party, and then this wolf got loose and ended up killing everyone.”

The two officers exchange looks. “Would you please show us the bodies?”

You lead them inside. As they follow you, you get a bad feeling that Carson might have been right. Maybe calling the police was a mistake. But this is the choice you made, and it’s too late to choose otherwise.

You bring the officers to the room where all the carnage took place. Both of them let out audible gasps when they see all the dead bodies. It is only after several seconds have passed that one of them recovers enough to speak to you.

“Sloan Morrison,” he says. “You are under arrest for murder.”

What?

How could they possibly think that you’re the one who killed all these people? You don’t even have fangs or claws! But now they’re snapping handcuffs on your wrists and leading you out of the house to their police car. As they load you into the police car, you hear several more sets of sirens in the distance.

Mr. Wentworth, unsurprisingly, had a lot of powerful friends who want to see someone pay for his murder. The trial is short and frustrating, and at the end of it, you are sentenced to 16 life terms in prison.

On the plus side, at least you don’t have to worry about the rent ever again.

THE END

Want to try for a different ending? Turn back to Chapter 1 (page 1)!

56

Carson seems to know what he’s talking about. If he says you shouldn’t call the police, you’re going to trust him on that.

“So what should we do now?” you ask.

“There’s no electronic record of you ever being here,” he says. “They made sure of that, so it wouldn’t get tracked back to them when you disappeared. The best thing to do is to go home and pretend like none of this ever happened. Since everyone is dead, I’ll be able to unlock and open the gates so we can get out.”

You hold out your hands, which are still shaking terribly. “I don’t think I can make the drive right now. I’ll probably go careening off the edge of the mountain.”

Carson looks at you thoughtfully with his gray eyes. “I can drive you home in your car. My car is a loaner from Mr. Wentworth anyway.”

You promised Blair that you wouldn’t let anyone else drive her car, but you’re pretty sure Carson will be a good driver. After all, he’s so handsome.

You make your way to the front door. With each step, you leave behind bloody footprints. You wipe your shoes really well on the welcome mat, knowing Blair will be furious if you track blood into the car. You unlock the front door, and when you step outside, Carson hesitates.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

You follow Carson’s gaze to the sky. There’s a full moon out, although there’s still a bit of mist keeping it from being as luminous as full moons can sometimes be.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you say.

Carson lets out a grunt. There’s an expression on his face that seems almost pained. He rakes a hand through his thick white-blond hair, and for a moment, it looks like his hand is shaking as badly as yours are.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“Nothing,” he says in a gruff voice. “Let’s get to your car. Hurry.”

He seems to be struggling to walk as the two of you make your way to Blair’s Audi. When you get there, you see four deep slashes across the passenger’s side door, which resemble claw marks.

“Oh man!” you moan. “Blair’s going to kill me!”

Carson seems utterly uninterested in the claw marks on the car. He fumbles to get the driver’s side door open, then collapses into the seat. Once you are both inside, he takes a few deep breaths, gripping the steering wheel.