Lita half turned her head, whispering to Corey, “Where do you want the light?”

“On the fireplace,” Corey whispered.

She aimed the flashlight at the fireplace. The light shone for an instant on the ornately designed brass andirons, then focused on the brass poker in its holder, and then back to the andirons.

“In closer,” Corey whispered, and Lita moved forward going toward the fireplace. Corey followed close behind and Kingsley right behind Corey. The gun was pushing against Corey’s ribs and there was a hissing noise as Kingsley breathed in hard through his teeth. The hissing noise became louder and Corey turned his head and whispered to Kingsley, “Quiet—quiet—”

Kingsley tried to calm his breathing; his mouth stretched tightly as he made the effort. He was staring past Corey, his eyes very wide and glittering, aiming at the fireplace. Like the eyes of an animal, Corey thought. A starving animal going stark raving crazy with knowing it’s there. It’s the feast and it’s really there.

“Get it,” Kingsley whispered, trembling. “Get it, get it.”

Corey motioned to Lita, then pointed to the floor of the fireplace. She focused the flashlight in that direction, and Corey got down on his hands and knees, inching forward with Kingsley staying close to him, the gun now aiming at his head. He knew it was aiming at his head and he said to himself, well, here we go, and it’s all or nothing, and come on dice be nice.

He was crouched at the side of the fireplace, reaching in behind the andirons, pretending to be very deliberate as his hands went sliding slowly across the brick floor of the fireplace.

“One of them bricks?” Kingsley whispered. “It comes loose?”

Corey nodded. Then he shifted slightly and bent lower and reached in deeper along the floor of the fireplace. Lita moved in from the side, the flashlight extended to provide more light. Kingsley stepped closer to Corey and hissed feverishly, “Which brick is it? Show me.”

“Look there,” Corey whispered, but didn’t point to any particular brick. His pointing finger was waving vaguely. “Right there.”

Kingsley leaned closer. He was peering over Corey’s shoulder. Corey crouched lower, as though to give Kingsley a better view of the bricks along the back wall of the fireplace. As he did that, his shoulder was just a few inches away from the brass holder supporting the brass poker. And then, faking it, making it appear accidental, he swerved just a little to the side and his shoulder bumped against the brass holder and it was tipping over.