The ancient grandfather clock struck midnight in the shadowy manor. Detective Sarah Chen studied the body sprawled on marble floors. Blood pooled beneath Lord Ashford's head like dark crimson silk. His eyes stared upward with frozen terror and terrible surprise. The murder weapon, a silver candlestick, lay nearby on carpet. Eight dinner guests remained trapped inside during the raging snowstorm. One among them had killed their host just hours earlier. Sarah noticed the broken glass near the victim's outstretched fingers. A torn piece of fabric clung to his cold hand. Outside, wind howled through bare trees like mournful desperate ghosts. The killer was still here, watching, waiting, hiding in shadows.