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[So this one's gonna work a bit differently, so tell me if it should be moved to TBGs, though I don't think it would fit there. MAS stands for Multiple Authored Story, because it doesn't work quite like an RPG or a CYOA. Instead, it's just a continued third person narrative where each person adds 2 to 5 paragraphs to the story where the previous person left off, if that makes sense.]

Rules:
-Try to keep it serious, because unless one of the following rules is broken, your post is considered a permanent addition to the narrative.
-Your post must be from 1 to 5 paragraphs in length, each paragraph being around 5 sentences in length. A line of dialogue doesn't count as a paragraph, but three lines of dialogue alone do.
-In order to post again, either two other people must post before you, or one other person must post and 4 hours must have passed since your last post.
-Stick to the current log line in order to keep things from going off the rails. Also stick to the genre, anything too egregiously fantasy is out of place with the setting.
-No self inserts and avoid Mary Sues.
-Any obvious trolling or spamming is automatically redacted from the narrative.
-Don't argue over whether or not a post should or shouldn't happen. For now, I'll be the judge of whether or not a post should be removed, but I may get others on to moderate the story. If posts are made after the rulebreaking post, I'll just refer to the last valid post and we continue from that instead.
-Any thoughts that aren't meant to be considered part of the narrative portion of your post should be in [brackets].
-Feel free to ask questions regarding the current rules at any time for explanation or changes if I overlooked something. Questions regarding this should also be in [brackets].

LOG LINE: A detective is hired to investigate the mysterious, seemingly paranormal occurrences surrounding a recent death in a suburban household.

Chapter 1

Detective Lancaster stepped out of his car, parked on the sidewalk of the suburb's streets. Something was weird about this case. It unsettled him beyond reason. The oddity in the case was the coroner's current explanation for the cause of death.

The victim was supposedly drowned in her sleep. This is odd, as she was found in bed, completely dry. There were no leaks or anything like that in the house. The whole thing was just unsettling. Lancaster made his way inside.

The house was fairly spacious, especially considering that only one person had lived here since it had been built. Everything was neat and in its place. The victim, a single woman in her early 40s by the name of Anne Donnelly, had been a perfectionist, it seemed. Detective Lancaster made his way to the bedroom.

The room was an oddity; It didn't fit in with the rest of the house at all. Papers everywhere, dirty clothes strewn across the carpet and a blue desk that didn't fit the colour scheme of the rest of the house. The double bed had its blankets removed, although that was probably by the forensic team. The bed, as had been reported, was completely dry, as if it had just been dried after washing. Lancaster moved to a familiar policeman on the scene, Inspector Jackson.

"What are our leads?" The detective asked Jackson.

"Well, it's not looking promising..." Inspector Jackson replied, looking through notes taken in a manila folder. "The forensic report shows that there were no signs of struggle, and the door to this room was locked from the inside when we got here after a neighbor called out of concern, so our current lead is that she... Took a mouthful of water, walked into her room, locked the door behind her, laid in bed, and then calmly stopped breathing."

[If you think I'm not going to keep bumping this to no avail, you are mistaken. What'd Einstein say about insanity again? Probably nothing important.]

"Yeah, sure. And lemme guess, her hands are dry, too."
The detective turned to the source of the voice, and saw a short man, with slick black hair.
"And who might you be?" said Inspector Jackson.
"Oh, they didn't tell ya? Name's Detective Randall, but you can call me Nick. I was called in cuz this falls just outside my district." the man continued.

"...right. Anyways, have you actually checked for fluid?" the Inspector asked.
"No, but I guarantee you there's not gonna be any. There's always something weird about these."
The Inspector chuckled. "So what, there's no water on her hands. She probably just drank right from the tap."
"Hey, say what you want, but check for fluid. You'll see I'm right later."
Nick pulled out his pad of paper, began writing, and walked away.

Lancaster watched the slick detective as he walked out. "Why do you think they'd assign two detectives to a case like this one?"

"Never hurts to be prepared." Inspector Jackson replied with a shrug, making a few more notes in the manila folder. Detective Lancaster decided he'd learned all he could about the case from here, which was absolutely nothing.

"Mind if I look around the other rooms?" He asked the Inspector.

"Not at all." Jackson replied. "That's your job, isn't it?"

Detective Lancaster gave a small smile before nodding his head at the Inspector as he walked past toward the bathroom. It looked like nothing had been touched here yet. Forensics was probably still working on the body and the bedroom.

Carefully, Lancaster put on a pair of plastic gloves before analysing a few items - the tap, the floor, the amount of water everywhere. Strangely enough, the bathroom was completely dry as well - even the basin. It was as if someone had carefully wiped the entire bathroom completely dry of water. Even the towel was dry and unused.

Lancaster took off his gloves and shoved them back into his pocket. He walked back out, past the Detective, Inspector and the few reporters that were already gathering despite efforts to stop them. He moved towards the next room to check.

He made his way into what appeared to be a study room of sorts, furnished with only a very well organized writing desk, a wooden chair with a cushioned back, and a bookshelf which appeared to be in perfect alphabetical order. Well, one book was out of place, as Anne had placed a copy of Moby * after a book titled Our Small Native Animals: Their Habitat and Care, instead of with the other M titles.

On the desk was a collection of printed essays, all on native wildflowers. This made sense, as Anne was formerly working as a horticulturist. Still, as he rifled through the papers, he realized that there seemed to be a small key tucked away between the pages of one of the essays. As he held it up to the light to examine it more clearly, though, there came a rattling noise from beneath the bed.

[Anyone want to add a single paragraph to a mystery story? No? Bump.]

(Single paragraph you say? I rather think I might.)

Detective Lancaster frowned as he put the key back in its place - for now - and looked down to investigate. He walked over to the bed and crouched, trying not to think about his aching back, and lifted the sheets of the bed that were hanging over the sides... nothing. Completely empty. The rattling noise had dissipated the moment that he touched the sheets. Feeling goosebumps rise up his arms, he quickly stood up again. He picked up the key again and examined it closer. As he looked at it, just centimetres from his eyes, he noticed two small letters engraved into it.

H.M.

Lancaster couldn't quite determine what it was meant to refer to, if it was marked such to refer to a room or a garage. If it was meant to refer to a name, that didn't strike anything to him either, but he would need a list of people related to the case anyways if he wanted to even start comparing it to anything of that nature. His eyes crossed over the room again. The place gave him the creeps more than any other room he had been in, which is saying something when one of those rooms held a corpse. Then again, it was probably the rattling noise that got to him.

The detective decided he needed some air, there was too much going on at once and he wasn't getting any leads. He turned to the study's door and reached for its handle, only for it to not turn, no matter how hard he tried. He tried to cram the H.M. key into the lock, but it didn't work.

Of course it couldn't be that easy.

Frowning, Lancaster turned back towards the room. The door locked from the inside, meaning that either he had inadvertently locked himself in... or someone was in here with him.

The experienced detective unholstered his gun, looking around the room rapidly for anything - some kind of movement, something that had changed from before. There was no change from before. Carefully, carefully, Lancaster moved towards the ensuite bathroom, looking around there as well. Nothing had changed. The bathroom was still spotless, the window was still open, every item was in its previous state. Slightly bothered, he moved towards the door to try opening it again.

Click

It... opened. Detective Nick Randall was on the other side, looking slightly bemused at Lancaster's expression. Had it been unlocked before? No, he had definitely tried turning the knob multiple times and it had definitely been locked. So... what had happened?