THE MURDER THAT TOOK PLACE LAST NIGHT

the rooms with laughter and late-night arguments had mostly checked out a

ace the final moments leading up to Juliana Croix's death. The corridor leading to Room 213 was dimly lit, the wallpaper pee

ked, as though the murder had bent it out of place. She took

hone

te Nu

ated, the

asqu

low and compose

ing questions you do

d. "Who is this

w," he replied.

in her throat. The voice was unfamiliar-but the confidence in it ch

was wa

ew and startled by Mara's urgency. She stammered as she provided the night's phone log-th

r any sign of intrusion. That's when she noticed it: somethi

le ros

ed fingers. It wasn't there earlier in the day-s

er had b

camera had been restored. No witnesses

her mind racing. The rose wasn't just a

And she had just m