The old grandfather clock in the dusty hallway struck midnight precisely as Detective Sarah Collins arrived at the sprawling Victorian mansion. Rain hammered against the tall windows while thunder rolled across the dark sky like cannons firing somewhere off in the distance. A butler with hollow eyes and trembling hands opened the heavy oak door before she even had a chance to knock. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Detective," he whispered, his pale face revealing a deep terror that words could not express fully. She stepped inside and immediately noticed the sharp metallic scent of fresh blood drifting through the cold air of the foyer. A crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the marble floor, illuminating a trail of dark red droplets leading toward the grand library. She followed the crimson path carefully, her leather shoes clicking against the stone, each step bringing her closer to the grim discovery. Lord Edmund Blackwood lay sprawled across his mahogany desk, a silver letter opener buried to its ornate handle deep in his chest. His glass eyes stared at the ceiling, and his right hand clutched a torn photograph that showed four people standing near water. Seven guests had been staying in the mansion tonight, and every single one of them had a very good reason for murder.