Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score
1
11:47 a.m., Tuesday, August 18
This was not how she was going to die, Riley decided. Not sitting on a concrete floor in a musty TV studio surrounded by idiots.
The helmet-headed blonde on her right was muttering under her breath about lawsuits. On her left, Riley’s ex-husband, Griffin Gentry, rocked in place and whimpered about the dry-cleaning fees for his mohair suit.
Neither of them was smart enough to realize just how much trouble they were all in.
But Riley knew that, barring a miracle, none of them would be walking out of Channel 50 alive.
“How long are we going to have to stay like this?” the blonde demanded. “This lighting is giving me a headache, and I need to make four dozen cupcakes for the marching band bake sale tomorrow.”
“That’s my chair,” Griffin complained when the gunman sat down behind the anchor desk.
“Let the man with the gun sit in your chair,” Riley advised.
“Just great,” he whined when the gunman lowered the seat. “It’s going to take me forever to get it back to the right height.”
“Oh, please,” Valerie hissed from her position between Cameras 1 and 2. “You put it as high as it goes, and we all pretend you’re a normal-sized human.”
“Let’s focus on the real problem here,” Riley said. “That guy has killed several people so far, and he has more on his list.”
“No one wants to kill me! Everyone loves me,” Griffin insisted.
“Have you continued to devolve, or was I really that stupid when I married you?” she wondered.
“Personally, I think it was a combination of both,” the Camera 1 operator at her feet chimed in.
“Hey, Don,” she whispered. “Long time, no see.”
“How’s it going?” the hefty, mustachioed man asked.
“So what’s he going to do after he’s done messing up my chair?” Griffin hissed, tugging at his collar. “You don’t think he’ll do something terrible like—”
“Kill you? Anything could happen at this point,” Riley said.
“Kill me?” he croaked. “I was going to say make me look silly on the air.”
Her ex-husband had gone from indignantly inconvenienced to anxious. Beads of sweat appeared on his spackled forehead.
Griffin was a nervous sweater. And he was very, very nervous. He looked as if he’d been hosed down.
“Look. He’s one guy with a gun. There’s sixteen of us in here. If we attack him in order of least important person to most important person, most of us will survive,” the blonde said.
“Obviously, I’m the most important,” Griffin said, latching on to her idea.
“You read things from a teleprompter and wear makeup,” the woman scoffed. “I’m a mother. I’m raising the future of our country.”
“Your kids are in college,” Riley pointed out.
“And they still need their mother! I’m last. Griffin can be next to last,” she conceded.
“Bella should be next to next to last,” Griffin decided.
On cue, Bella Goodshine, perky weather girl and his new fiancée, popped up next to him and held out a hand to Riley. “Hi! I’m Bella!”
“I know who you are!” Riley yelled.
The gunman spun around in his chair to glare at her.
“Sorry,” Riley said. “But she keeps introducing herself to me!”
“Didn’t she steal your husband?” the blonde asked.
“She sure did,” Griffin said. He was still sweating.
“This must be really awkward for you,” the blonde observed.
“It’s not great.”
“Don’t mind Bella,” Griffin said, reaching for Riley’s hand. She snatched it away. “She has female face blindness.”
“Female face blindness?” Riley repeated.
Griffin nodded. “She only recognizes men. It’s a medical condition.”
Riley blinked slowly, then shook her head. “I’m not dying here with you people.”
“So who should be first in line to attack this guy?” Griffin asked. “I never cared for Armand. I don’t like his urinal cake placement.”
“Fine. He’ll go first,” the blonde decided. “Then maybe that guy over there by the bagels. I don’t like his shirt.”
“That’s Rose. She didn’t sign my birthday card this year. Maybe she should go first?”
“You people can’t just decide who lives and who dies,” Riley hissed. This was what was wrong with the world. People like Griffin, who had overinflated senses of importance, wielding power over others.
Nick was going to kill her. That is, if she survived her own murder.
