“For the whole class?” Mackenzie presses.
Blaire’s eyes narrow. “What are you implying?”
“Just asking.”
Someone had to cut those wires to the security footage.
Her phone buzzes. She glances at it, and something changes in her expression—something cold and calculated that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’ll see you both tonight,” she says. “At the cove for the fireworks.” A wicked gleam twinkles in her eye.Maybe by then one of you won’t be around to see it.
The thought hits me clear as a bell, and I go cold despite the heat.
Blaire walks away, disappearing into the crowd, and I’m left standing by the fountain with Mackenzie while the parade rolls on and kids chase candy and the whole town celebrates freedom while someone might be planning murder number three.
“Do you think she’s the killer?” Mackenzie asks.
I watch Blaire’s white linen disappear around the corner. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling if she had her way, the body count would double tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“As in you and me.”
Mackenzie’s face goes pale under her perfect makeup. “She wouldn’t?—”
“Wouldn’t she? Just how well do you know your friends, Mackenzie?”
Understanding dawns on Mackenzie’s face slowly, like sunrise over the ocean.
There will be fireworks tonight, and it’s starting to look less like a celebration and more like the perfect cover for murder number three—and maybe four.
CHAPTER 18
The sun hangs low over the ocean, painting the sky in streaks of peach and lavender, and the Stars, Stripes, and Seaside Spectacular has been going strong since noon.
It’s nearly seven now, that magic hour when the heat finally breaks and the light turns everything golden.
The beach is packed wall-to-wall with blankets, lawn chairs, coolers, and approximately three thousand people who’ve spent the last seven hours eating hot dogs and waiting for things to explode in the sky.
Kids are running around with sparklers, drawing figure-eights in the air while their parents pretend to supervise. The smell of charcoal and grilled onions mixes with cotton candy and ocean salt, and somewhere a live band is murdering “American Pie” while the crowd sings along anyway.
Jordy followed Mackenzie’s strict orders and cordoned off a corner of the beach with velvet ropes—yes, velvet ropes on a beach—and set up a white tent with a battery-powered chandelier that’s already covered in sand.
The Designer Mafia is gathered inside on lounge furniture with white cushions that were pristine approximately twenty minutes ago and are now definitely not.
Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have given them such a harsh nickname. After all, they’ve been through a lot in one week. But in all fairness, so have I.
Earlier today, Sloane caught me near the buffet setup and mentioned she could hold one spot open for next week with her architect if I could get her a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit.
I wrote her a check on the spot.
My sunroom is finally happening! I’m so excited I can barely think straight, and Jasper is going to be thrilled when I tell him I went ahead with it. The architect is already drafting the plans.
I take a moment to glance around at the tent area as the women mill around and mingle. Mackenzie splurged on enough red, white, and blue hydrangeas to outfit a wedding. Maybe two weddings. This must have cost her a fortune. It’s like she can’t open her wallet wide enough to impress these women, or at least what’s left of these poor women.
The food is another story, and yet another one of Mackenzie’s over-the-top displays where she’s thrown money like confetti.
The buffet situation is absurd. While the rest of Cider Cove is noshing on hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, and sheet cake, Mackenzie’s VIP section is sporting lobster tail skewers, seared scallops with mango salsa, beef tenderloin crostini, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, smoked salmon on cucumber rounds, mini crab cakes, truffle mac and cheese in individual ramekins, an artisan cheese board, and a champagnefountain that’s working overtime.
