Free Grace Among Thieves by Julie Hyzy

maintenance corridors that ran like tentacles under the house. Right now the mouth of each was jammed tight with staff members crowding close to see what had happened.
    John’s face registered shock as he paced in small circles, his hands in constant movement—frantic, furious, helpless all at once. I looked at the woman again. Young, I thought. When I noticed pink sweatpants, her identification clicked. Lenore. It had to be. The body shape, size, hair: all right.
    My gut’s instant reaction ground me to a halt as I reached the bottom level.
Oh my god.
    I moved forward gingerly now, giving the death scene a wide berth. I caught Terrence’s eye. “What happened?” I asked from behind John.
    Still pacing, the tour director massaged his brow with one hand and grabbed at the air with the other, as though searching for answers. “Don’t you have sensors on these doors?” he asked. “Shouldn’t some alarm have sounded? How could this happen? How in the world . . . ?”
    Terrence interrupted. “Grace is here, John.”
    John turned, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing me. It was as though fifty thoughts were careering around in his mind at once, broadcasting fear, horror, and disbelief on his face as each emotion zoomed by.
    “Grace.” Terrence strove for control. “You stay here with John. Protect this area. I have to get up to find out why this happened. The crime scene is getting trampled.”
    I grabbed him before he could take off. Pointing to Lenore’s motionless body less than fifteen feet away from me, I asked, “Crime scene? This wasn’t an accident?”
    Terrence’s expression tightened. “She was pushed. Another tour member was injured as well. Ambulance is on its way.”
    He was gone, taking the stairs two at a time before I could press for more details. John had resumed making small circles in the tiny area. I looked up at the skylight, more than five floors above. Bewildered faces stared back amid shouting, pointing, and tears. “Step away,” I heard Terrence roar as he ran. “Step away from the railings. Return to the designated tour areas. We will be questioning each of you.”
    The red walls high above closed in on me as I stood at the very bottom, trying to sort out what little I knew. I did my best to urge John into the nearest hallway. Though I had no idea what the forensic experts would need, the farther we stayed away from Lenore, the better.
    The laundry ladies and maintenance guys who’d been drawn from their basement alcoves to peer into the stairwell stared in shock at me, their eyes wide. “Please, folks. Let’s not make this worse,” I said to them. Spotting a staff member whose name I remembered, I designated her to be the leader. “Get everybody back to work, Monica. We’ll let you know more later.”
    She complied as I pulled John toward one of the doorways. As soon as we were alone, I asked, “What happened?”
    “The poor girl.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know.”
    Vibrating with agitation, the normally unflappable John was about to lose it. In a soothing voice, I did my best to talk him down, asking, “Terrence said someone else was injured?”
    “Yes, yes.” Now he gripped his hair with both hands. “One of the other guests, Mark, was shot.”
    “Shot?” I looked around. No one had said anything about a shooting.
    John took a deep breath, clamped his eyes shut for a long moment, then opened them and fought for control. I could barely hear him. “Mark Ellroy. He’s part of our tour. He was traveling alone, too, and he and Lenore sat next to each other on the bus, so I thought if I asked him to keep Lenore out of trouble . . .”
    This wasn’t explaining anything. I raised my voice. “I don’t understand.”
    Noises from above prevented me from asking more. People shuffling, complaining, and crying created an angry din amid guards’ shouts urging cooperation. Slowly, the noise dissipated and the scene finally quieted, but all I could think was that