A girl who I just can’t believe would kill herself.

What if the police have it wrong

When I drift off, my dreams are full of murder.

CHAPTER 3

Maggie

December 1, 2015

A crackling buzz startles me from a deep sleep and I lock gazes with twelve sets of eyes. Celine’s porcelain dolls have been watching over me all night. I shudder, deciding that they’ll be going into a box immediately after I have my morning coffee.

Another loud buzz sounds, followed by three shorter ones. It’s the intercom and it’s clearly what woke me up.

“Hold on,” I grumble, giving my face a rub and my body a stretch before I check the collection of clocks to see that I just logged in fourteen hours of sleep. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.

I hold the chunky yellowed “answer” button down, surprised that this archaic system still works and hasn’t been upgraded. “Hello”

“Hey, it’s me.” A male voice fills Celine’s apartment.

“Me who”

“Hans. I’m here for the appraisal.”

“What appraisal”