The Lies That Bind by Kate Carlisle

still be slightly tacky,” I said, holding up my demo and touching the spine.
    “The reason we hammer the spine is to round it out. A flat spine won’t allow the book to lie nicely. You want to round it slightly. And you do it by pounding it with a hammer.”
    “Fun,” said Kylie.
    I demonstrated by holding up two different books I’d made. “If you keep the spine flat as it is now, the book will plop one way or another when you open it. See? But a rounded spine will allow the book to fan open.”
    “Cool,” Jennifer whispered.
    “Now, hammering works best if you place the textblock flat on the table with the spine near the table’s edge.” I used the end of the worktable to demonstrate.
    “I’m going to hurt myself, aren’t I?” Gina whispered to Whitney.
    I smiled at her. “No, you won’t. These hammers are lighter and shorter than a regular carpenter’s hammer, and the head is wider. That’s because you don’t need to apply as much pressure to this as you would to a nail to pound it into a wall. Your pressure to the book is more of a smack than a smash.”
    “Smack, don’t smash,” Gina muttered.
    “You take the hammer and start pounding the spine with a pushing motion,” I said, demonstrating. “You’re effectively nudging the layers out to form a curved surface.”
    “I like it,” Kylie said, clobbering the pages with her hammer. “I’m pretending it’s my husband.”
    “This is fun,” Gina said, pounding like mad on her book. “I’m so fierce.”
    “Easy,” I cautioned. “Push, don’t pummel.”
    “Oops,” she said, and lightened the pressure of her thrusts.
    “Now, turn the textblock over and do the same thing from the back side so it evens out. Do this several times, and you’ll see the spine becoming rounded.” I held mine up for everyone’s scrutiny.
    “As soon as you have the desired curve, place it back into the wood press and apply another thin layer of glue. That way, it’ll stay rounded for good.”
    A twittering sound chirped. Cynthia grabbed her purse and found her cell. She checked the screen and looked at me. “It’s bidness. Can I take a quick break?”
    “Sure,” I said. “Everyone knows what they need to do now, so proceed at your own pace and take a break if you need to. I’ll walk around and check your work or answer questions if you have any.”
    For the next ten minutes, everyone worked quietly. Some people left the room, others came back in. I didn’t pay much attention to the comings and goings as I stopped to ask Marianne and Jennifer about their library arts-and-crafts program. Then I made another pass around the table and paused at Mitchell’s place.
    “How’m I doing, boss?” he asked, grinning as he held up his glue brush.
    “Much better,” I said.
    “Thanks,” he said. “But I—”
    A loud blast interrupted him.
    Gina screamed and Whitney pulled her under the table.
    “Oh, my God,” Kylie cried.
    “Calm down!” I shouted. “It’s probably nothing.”
    But I knew that sound. I’d heard it more than once before.
    “Everyone stay here.” I ran from the room, closing the door behind me. No one was in the hall. I tiptoed to the entry and peeked around the corner. The gallery was empty.
    “I’m right behind you,” Mitchell said evenly. “That was a gunshot.”
    “I know.” I turned and scowled. “That’s why I told everyone to stay in the room.”
    “Oh, right. Like I’m going to wait in there while you’re out here getting yourself killed.”
    “Men,” I muttered.
    “Yeah, we suck,” he growled. “Come on.”
    We crossed the gallery to the north hall. I could see that Layla’s office door was open. Light poured into the hall, illuminating a lifeless lump on the carpet.
    “Oh, crap,” I whispered. Déjà vu, anyone? I moved closer, then stopped abruptly. Mitchell stopped directly behind me.
    It was Layla. Blood trickled from a hole at the center of her chest, leaving a bright red stain in the middle of her