Dollhouse Murders Book Novels & Stories

“I wasn't in a very good place at the time for observation.” Matthews' current project was a book about the events surrounding Janice Rosse, a high-profile mass murder case that also tangentially involved Diamond and her work. Rosse recently escaped from prison, and it is unknown if there is any connection... *** The demon that masqueraded as Emily Diamond stood, head bowed, in the center of a room made of rusted steel. Before her stood a man, pale as the moon, dressed in Victorian finery, right down to a tall silk top hat and walking stick. The stick's head was carved into the shape of a black widow, its deadly hourglass painted red making it stand out against the stark silver.

"At least make it believable. This maid has been mooching off our family for months, and now she's broken into my estate." Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Your estate? And who's your mother?" "My mother is Alice Hayes!" Lucas paused — then gave her a thin, contemptuous smile. "Alice?" "Isn't that the boss's housekeeper?"

Anna exclaimed happily. Meanwhile, they had choked me to such a degree that my face had gone red. The handbook listed the house assigned to each player. Everyone else had roommates or companions, while I was the only one assigned to live alone. My handbook was the only one left behind after everyone else had their pick, after all. Anna smirked, clearly finding the whole thing quite amusing. "Wow, you really are unlucky, Sylvia. How about this? If you become my watchdog, I'll do the honors of making a doghouse for you out of rocks myself!"

Alice and her squad were still at the crime scene investigating the homicide that had taken place. They were looking for any possible clues to find the murderer. Right about now she was interrogating the two neighbors if they noticed any unfamiliar occurrences last night. Mr Oscar said he was sleeping soundly last night and didn't hear anything odd in the neighborhood. "Or honey did you hear anything?" Mr Oscar asks his wife and she nods. "I heard screams" Mrs Oscar and Mrs George the second neighbor answered in unison.

But something about the book pulled at him, a deep, unshakable instinct that told him he needed to see what was inside. “I have to,” he said quietly. The moment he touched the book, the room shifted. The carvings on the walls seemed to writhe, the spirals twisting and unfurling as though they were alive. The air grew colder, the faint sound of whispers rising from the shadows. “Elliot…” Emma’s voice trembled. “What’s happening?” He didn’t answer. His focus was locked on the book as he opened it, his hands shaking. The pages were filled with writing—names, dates, locations—all meticulously recorded in the same precise handwriting that had haunted him throughout the mansion.