House Arrest Read online

  “True. And he’d probably love it if he could get Ripley to freak out—talk about breaking news!”

  “Yeah. Then there’s Ripley herself. We thought she was setting herself up to look like a hero before. Maybe now she’s trying to win sympathy as a victim. And James—he’s so hypercompetitive that I could see him doing just about anything to win.”

  Joe grinned. “But do you think he knows how to spell ‘murder’?”

  I barely heard him. My mind was clicking away, trying to sort stuff into logical order. “Who could have sneaked in and written on Ripley’s face while she was asleep? Maybe one of her roommates, or—”

  I bit back the rest of my words as the closet door swung open with a whiff of nicotine. A short, wiry woman was standing there. She was wearing a striped bathrobe and looked vaguely familiar—I was pretty sure she was a production assistant.

  “What are you two doing in there?” she snapped irritably. “And what’s with the racket? Don’t you kids ever sleep? You’re giving me a migraine! Get back to bed!”

  She whirled around and stomped off. “I’m thinking she’s not a night person,” Joe said.

  “Yeah. She’s one of the PAs, right?”

  “Her name’s Sylvia. Brynn told me she’s a total spaz. Just about took her head off when Brynn asked her to help her close her bedroom window.”

  “Guess we should get back to bed like she said.” I headed out into the hallway. “Otherwise Veronica will probably be along to yell at us next.”

  Joe shuddered. “And nobody wants that.”

  “So what do you guys think the next competition will be?” Olivia stirred her cold cereal. All our food was cold—one of the luxuries we’d already lost was hot food. No stove, no microwave, no coffee-maker.

  James stopped shoveling his breakfast into his mouth just long enough to answer. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’m going to kick all your butts. You might as well take the rest of that quitter’s money right now.”

  That was another rule of the show. Each week, Veronica and a couple of other judges reviewed the footage and decided who was handling the deprivation the worst. That person got kicked out.

  You were also allowed to drop out on your own. The first person to do so had received fifty thousand dollars. For the second dropout, the payout had dropped to forty grand. The next three to leave voluntarily would get thirty, twenty, and ten thousand respectively. After that, nada.

  Ripley got up and took her dishes to the sink. To get there, she had to step around one of the three cameramen who were filming us at the moment.

  “Who’s going to chop more wood for the fire?” she asked. “I was freezing last night.”

  That was our latest deprivation. The morning before, we’d all still been reeling from (a) finding out about Mitch; (b) Veronica introducing Gail as our new surprise housemate; and (c) James finding that rotten old dead bird in the shower.

  As if all that wasn’t enough, Veronica had announced another new set of deprivations that afternoon. They all had to do with temperature. We’d already lost hot food. Now we were losing extra-cold food too. No more freezer. Also, we were no longer allowed to use the heat or AC in the house.

  No biggie, right? Bet you thought the weather is always perfect in Southern California. Yeah, so did I—until we got here. Daytime isn’t bad. A little stuffy, but opening the windows helps a lot.

  But at night, it’s chilly up among all those canyons. Veronica pointed out that we were still welcome to use the huge walk-in fireplace in the great room on the second floor. If we kept a fire going in there, it kept the whole house reasonably warm.

  “You got broken arms, princess?” James asked Ripley. “I didn’t see you out there splitting wood yesterday. Afraid you’d break a nail?”

  Ripley’s shiny happy new persona wasn’t perfect yet. But even she was getting pretty good at ignoring James’s rude comments.

  Bobby T let out a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m kind of hoping there’s no competition today,” he said. “Ripley’s little makeover last night really cut into my beauty sleep.”

  “I know what you mean.” Mary shivered. As usual, the home-schooled girl was so quiet and sort of drab that I’d almost forgotten she was there until she spoke. “Who do you guys think is doing all the scary stuff?”

  “Want to know what I think?” Olivia put in. “I think it’s the producers.”

  “Huh?” said Joe.

  “Think about it.” Olivia looked smug. “They could be trying to spice things up. I mean, it’s not like anyone is being killed this time. A dead bird? Lipstick on the face?” She shrugged. “Pretty tame stuff.”

  “No way.” Brynn was sitting across the table from me, between Joe and Silent Girl. She looked tense. “They wouldn’t do that. Especially after what happened with that Mitch guy.”

  Mary nodded. “The stuff that’s been going on is too creepy to be planned like that.”

  “I’m not so sure.” This time it was Hal who spoke up. That was kind of a surprise. He usually goes around in his own world. Literally. He’s creating a fictional planet called L-62. He’s hoping to turn it into a video game when it’s finished. That’s why he’s on the show—to try to win the seed money to produce the game.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him. He might be weird, but he’s not stupid. And Joe and I learned long ago that it pays to look for clues and ideas wherever we can find them.

  Hal shrugged. “This mansion is where that director guy killed his wife right in front of their little daughter, right?” he said calmly. “Maybe the show is hoping to cash in on that. Scare us all to death while we’re here. Sounds like good TV, right?”

  “Dude!” James looked at him with more respect than he’d shown anyone else in the house so far. “You’re totally onto something there! That makes perfect sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Gail Digby argued. “This show is supposed to be about deprivation. Showing who can cut it without every little thing they want and who can’t.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” said Olivia thoughtfully. “The whole deprivation thing could be a red herring. Like that show My Fabulous New Boyfriend, remember? They told the contestants they were competing for a date with a hunky movie star, but the guy was really just some Hollywood janitor who looked like a troll.”

  Brynn shook her head. “No way.” Her voice shook a little. “They wouldn’t do that.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” James said. “Who could resist a fun little show about a grisly murder?”

  “No!” Brynn stood up suddenly, almost tipping over her glass of OJ. “I don’t believe that!”

  She turned and raced out of the room. Joe was on his feet immediately. “I’d better go see if she’s okay.”

  “No, I’ll do it.” I caught up with him halfway to the door.

  “I said I’d go,” he insisted.

  I shook my head. “She needs comfort now.” I kept my voice low so the whole group wouldn’t hear. “Not someone drooling over her.”

  He glared at me. But he didn’t protest as I pushed past him.

  I found Brynn curled up on her bed. As soon as she sat up and looked at me, I wondered if I’d made a big mistake. Girls—well, they make me kind of nervous. Especially one on one.

  Still, I reminded myself that Brynn wasn’t just a girl. She was someone who needed help.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Do you want to talk or something?”

  “Knock-knock. Mind if I come in?” It was Chuck, one of the cameramen from the kitchen. He’d just followed me in. It was pretty obvious he was hoping to get some footage of Brynn’s breakdown.

  “Not right now, man,” I said.

  He shrugged, keeping the camera focused on Brynn. “Just doing my job, buddy.”

  “Well, do it later. Right now we need a little privacy.” I made my voice firmer this time.

  Chuck got the message. He frowned and looked like he was going to argue. But finally he just shrugg
ed again and left.

  “Thanks,” Brynn said with a sigh when he was gone. “I really don’t want everyone back home in Indiana seeing me like this.”

  “I hear you.” I sat down on the edge of the bed. “You okay?” I asked again.

  “Sort of.” She smiled wanly. “I’m just not used to this sort of thing. I mean, murder, vandalism, arson …”

  “Arson?” I blinked, wondering if I’d missed something. “What arson?”

  “Didn’t you hear? Olivia was talking to the new girl, Gail. She said her father went to jail for arson when Gail was just a kid.”

  “Whoa.” I’d already known Gail had had a tough life. Veronica had made a point of telling us all about how Gail had grown up dirt poor, gone to school hungry, stuff like that. But she hadn’t said anything about arson. It probably didn’t mean anything, but I filed it away in my mind just in case.

  Brynn grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed at her eyes. They looked even bigger and greener when they were watery. I realized this was the closest I’d ever been to her. Strangely, that didn’t freak me out too much. It was actually sort of … nice. I could see why Joe liked her so much. Although come to think of it, Joe likes just about anything in a skirt.

  “Anyway, I guess I’ve led a pretty sheltered life,” said Brynn. “It all just got to me back there. I’ll be okay in a second.” She smiled at me. One of her top teeth was a little crooked. Somehow, that made her smile seem totally perfect. “Will you sit here with me for a few minutes until I’m ready to go back?”

  I nodded. To be honest, I probably would have nodded if she’d asked me to go jump off the edge of one of the canyons out on the mansion’s grounds. Don’t ask me why. That was just how I felt right then.

  “Sure,” I promised. “I’m here for you.”

  Must-See TV

  Okay, I admit it. I was distracted every second that Frank and Brynn were off together. Can you blame me? I mean, for the first time a girl had actually realized on her own that I was the hotter, more happening Hardy. Brynn and I were really getting tight, and I was liking it. And now Frank was trying to elbow in?

  Well, maybe not. Frank is a guy of many talents, but scamming girls totally isn’t one of them. He was probably just being sincere. That’s kind of his thing.

  Still, I couldn’t think about much of anything else until the two of them came back. Brynn looked a little calmer by then.

  Meanwhile the rest of the group was talking about the old murder. See, that’s another thing about the Deprivation House mansion. The place even has its own scandalous history. Ten years ago it was the home of up-and-coming starlet Katrina Decter and her husband and four-year-old daughter. But one night the husband killed her, right in front of their kid. Self-defense—that’s what they decided at the trial.

  “I blogged about the murder when Veronica first told us about it,” Bobby T was saying. “I’ve done some research since then too.” He leaned forward, almost putting his elbow into Mary’s cereal bowl. “Did you know the murder weapon was a fireplace poker? He used it to stab her.”

  Ripley wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

  “Yeah,” Gail added. “Some of us are trying to eat here, you know.”

  “Fine.” Bobby reached for his laptop. He carried that thing with him everywhere. It was like his security blanket. “Then you probably don’t want to see the gruesome old crime scene photos I found online.”

  “No, thank you,” said Gail primly.

  But Ripley didn’t say anything. She just watched with interest as Bobby flipped open the computer.

  As for James, he looked downright excited. “Let’s check it out, dude,” he said. “Is there blood?”

  “Tons,” said Bobby. “Just let me pull up the site….”

  “Oh my God,” Brynn exclaimed. “You know, I think I just lost my appetite.” She whirled and ran back out of the room.

  Frank bit his lip and stared after her. For a second I thought he might go after her again.

  But he didn’t. He had to be just as curious as I was to see what Bobby had uncovered. Even though we were in the mansion on a totally different case, it was hard not to be curious about the old murder. Especially one that sounded so weird and creepy.

  “It’s loading—give it a sec,” Bobby said.

  Gail shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re all so freaking fascinated with this,” she said. “In my neighborhood, people get murdered all the time. Do you think anyone cares?” She snorted. “Not hardly. Not when it’s poor people getting their heads bashed in.”

  James rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest, Debbie Downer.”

  “It sounds like such a sad thing, doesn’t it?” said Mary softly. Whenever she spoke, she sounded like she was afraid no one would want to listen. “Just imagine how that little girl must have felt watching her father kill her mother in cold blood.”

  “But it wasn’t in cold blood,” Olivia argued. “Don’t you remember what Veronica told us? Katrina Decter was supposed to be possessed by a demon or something. It made her attack her daughter, and that’s why the father killed her. He was just protecting little Anna.”

  Mary shrugged. “It’s still sad. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Bobby glanced up from the screen. “I read that when the cops came in, the little girl was all covered in blood from hugging her mother’s body.”

  “Ew! Are the pictures up yet?” Mikey stood up for a better look at the laptop screen. “Hey, check it out. The page is called Witness to Evil.”

  “Awesome,” said James. “So they did teach you to read at fat camp.”

  “Witness to Evil.” Hal looked up from his notebook for the first time. He spends most of his time sketching out every little detail of his new planet there. I swear, the guy probably has lists of every brand of toilet paper sold on L-62. “Cool title. I might use that in my game.”

  “Somebody already used it,” Mikey said. “It’s the title of this old made-for-TV movie about the Decter murder. I just saw it in the TV listings—it’s on later this week.”

  “Really?” said Frank. “That’s a coincidence.”

  “Probably not,” I pointed out. “The news is out that this show is being shot at the site of the Decter murder. The network probably pulled it out to cash in on public interest.”

  By now the photos were mostly loaded on the laptop. I stepped over for a look. Frank, James, Mikey, and Silent Girl were looking too.

  I was distracted for a second when Brynn came back in. Her eyes were red and puffy. Somehow, though, she made it work. She pretty much always looks awesome.

  Then I tore my gaze away and looked down at the computer. I’ve seen a lot of intense stuff since signing on with ATAC. But I have to tell you, those pictures were pretty grisly. Blood everywhere. They must have repainted the great room since then.

  “Whoa,” Frank said. “I can’t believe these photos are out there for everyone on the Internet to see.”

  “Everything is on the Net these days,” said Bobby. “Accessibility is the new privacy.” He glanced around the table. “Anyone else want to see?”

  “I don’t want to see the gross photos, but I wouldn’t mind seeing that Witness to Evil movie,” Olivia said. “It might be kind of cool to watch it while we’re sitting right there in the room where the actual murder happened.”

  “Well, I don’t want to see the photos or that movie,” Gail declared. “Good thing they already took away cable TV.”

  “It’s not on cable,” Mikey said. “Regular network. Eight to ten p.m.”

  I wasn’t at all surprised that Mikey knew that. He loved TV almost as much as he loved junk food. And the producers hadn’t just cut us off from cable. They’d also limited us to a single black-and-white TV set in the great room. We were allowed to have it on only between eight and ten at night. That meant we all had to agree on what shows to watch. So Mikey spent tons of time poring over the listings online. That way we usually just left it up to him what to choose
.

  “Dude.” James smacked his hand on the table so hard that everyone’s dishes jumped. “We are so watching that movie!”

  “Speak for yourself,” Gail said. “No way do I want to watch something like that.”

  “Me either,” agreed Ripley. “I have less than zero interest in that sort of trash TV.”

  “Obviously.” James smirked at her. “That’s totally why you agreed to play a corpse in Forest of Blood Four. That one was pure class.”

  Ripley glared at him for a second. Then she turned away and suddenly got very busy adding milk to her cereal.

  “So?” Mikey said. “Should we take a vote on whether to watch Witness to Evil?”

  “You can put me down for no.” Gail’s face and voice were stony. “I’m not watching a bunch of rich people kill each other.”

  Nobody else got a chance to vote. That was because Veronica Wilmont strode into the kitchen at that moment.

  “Good morning, people,” she said in her icy voice.

  I don’t usually notice stuff like fashion. But Veronica’s outfits are pretty hard to miss. Today she was wearing a tight purple suit with a very short skirt and matching purple spike heels. Her white-blond hair was flawless, as always.

  “I hope you all slept well,” she went on. As usual, she didn’t sound like she cared much one way or the other. “And you might want to get a good night’s sleep tonight, too. Because your next competition will take place bright and early tomorrow morning.” Her smile slid into a smirk. “And I do mean early.”

  She spun on her heel and left. We all spent the rest of the meal speculating on what that might mean. After that, it was Frank’s turn to help do the breakfast dishes. Meanwhile I took advantage of the free morning to do some laundry. ATAC hadn’t warned me to bring more than a week’s worth of underwear.

  Frank came and found me when he was finished with his chores. All he said was “Want to take a walk?” But I knew he really wanted to talk about the mission.