“Okay.” I glanced at the clock. The sun would be up soon, and the answers I needed would only be found with the dead. “Do you have a key to the futon room?”

Elliot frowned. “Yes.”

“Good. Now listen carefully: don’t go anywhere near April’s room. I want you to head back to the futon room, and lock yourself in. Don’t let anyone in. If April shows up . . .” I paused. “Don’t let her open the door.”

His frown was deepening. “What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me, okay?” It wasn’t Terrie: Terrie was dead. It wasn’t Elliot: if he’d been the killer, I’d have been dead as soon as we were alone together. That left April and Gordan . . . and April didn’t understand what death was, but could never have been the one to kill Peter.

We had a problem.

Elliot frowned worriedly, saying, “All right,” before turning to hurry out into the hall.

“Will he be safe?” Tybalt asked. The question sounded academic; he didn’t care one way or the other, and he wasn’t bothering to pretend.

“April’s off- line and Gordan’s busy,” I said. “This may be the last time he’s safe.” I looked up at him. “I’m assuming you plan on coming with me.”

He smiled, very slightly. “As if I’d let you risk life and limb alone?”

“Right,” I said. “This way.”

It was almost dawn when we reached the basement door. I thought about trying to make it down the stairs and decided not to push it. I might make it. I might also be halfway down when the sun came up, and the idea of breaking my neck because I was dumb enough to play chicken with the dawn didn’t appeal. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the wall, and waited. Tybalt put his arm around my shoulders, and I jumped, but didn’t look. Dawn always passes. That’s one of the few things I like about it.

If I hadn’t slept, the force of the sunrise would have been enough to knock me out. As it was, my headache was back full force by the time the pressure went away, leaving me queasy and glad that I’d skipped breakfast. I would have been sick otherwise. Tybalt kept his arm around my shoulders the whole time, steadying me. As dawn passed, I opened my eyes and flashed him a grateful look. He turned away, expression unreadable.

Right. For a moment there, I’d forgotten that we weren’t friends. I pushed away from the wall and opened the basement door, heading down the stairs into the makeshift morgue.

One small, important detail had changed. If I hadn’t known the contents of the basement so intimately, I might have missed it, but as it was, it was like finding water in the desert: too out of place to overlook.