Page 37 of The Wedding Party

The emotion is anger. I’m angry with her. “Why didn’t you save him?” I hiss, but my lashes lower, the drugged, heavy feeling overtaking me. The world goes dark.

Chapter Thirty-Two

ANDI

Two nurses crowd me out of the room and slam the door. The police officer is quick to offer aid, but I wave him off. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” I order. “Even when she’s taken for testing.”

Dr. Mendez exits the room and motions me to wait. “I have limits, Agent Castle. And they all revolve around my patients. Patients have rights.”

“Her fiancé was stabbed at least fifty times. He’s dead. I’m the only one who can fight for his rights, and for him that means nothing more than justice. That’s all there is left. And that’s why your ‘patient’ is cuffed to the bed. So she won’t stab you to death as well.”

“I have a sworn oath to save lives. I don’t get to pick and choose which ones. They choose me when they come in the door. Surely you can understand that?”

“I do,” I say. “But I also know that murders that aren’t solved in the early hours and days of the investigation don’t get solved.”

“When the test is done, Agent Castle.” And on that note, Mendez turns and walks back inside Carrie’s room, shutting the door.

My cellphone rings and I snag it from my pocket to find Lana calling. Carrie is her friend, and I answer with, “How are you?”

“Are you coming back over?”

“I’m on my way now.”

“I need to tell you something about Carrie and Oliver, just you. Something I think could be important.”

Conversations about murder are better accessed in person, where I can read the other person, which is why I say, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnect without asking details.

Lana is the last person I’d expect to have something to offer in this investigation.

But at this point, nothing should surprise me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Once I walk back into the hotel, I’ll no doubt be bombarded with people, questions, and problems. Therefore, for everyone’s safety and mine, I need to caffeinate and freshen up. I stop at a store and grab a toothbrush and toothpaste and head into their bathroom, where I brush my teeth and wash my face, and then leave with a bad cup of necessary coffee. And as expected, the minute I enter the hotel, I have hotel staff and law enforcement cornering me.

Upon my return to the fourth floor, York is immediately standing in front of me. “Bad news,” he announces.

I brace myself with a long swallow of coffee as he adds, “There are no cameras on the room floors. There are no cameras by the emergency exits on any level.”

“Of course not,” I say dryly.

“There’s a bright side. Working cameras do exist in the main hotel and stairwell, as well as the exterior of the building.”

“Which tells us what?” I ask, looking for the good news.

“We know Natalie Phoenix went to her floor at about ten,” he says, but that tidbit of good is doused in bad as he continues with, “Now, did she leave after that? We can’t know because the emergency stairwell is a blind spot.”

“What about Oliver and Carrie? When did they head to their room?”

“That’s where there’s another problem. A ton of people from both sides of the party ended up in the hotel bar. Maybe some of those people used the emergency stairwells to return to their rooms. Apparently, the main staircase is haunted, and there was an incident that freaked people out.”

“Incident?”

“Word is that someone said a ghost touched their hair and that someone started screaming. It freaked out all the drunk people.”

Which sounds fishy to me, I think. Almost as if “someone” wanted to ensure there was a reason to use the emergency stairs. But then again, those stairs and the underground tunnels, where Bianca had a similar issue, are known for these strange encounters. If you believe in such things, which I might or might not. “Find out who that someone was and talk to them,” I say.

“On it,” York confirms. “As for who left the bar and when, we’re going to have to compare interviews to video footage in an effort to validate stories.”