Page 38 of The Wedding Party

“What about Carrie’s and Oliver’s phones? Or the murder weapon?”

“We found hers. It was dead and in her coat pocket in the hotel room. The damn thing didn’t ping at all. Which, of course, seems to indicate that despite her party being in this building, she left at some point.”

“Did we power up the phone?”

“We did and gave it an unofficial look since we don’t have the warrant yet. She exchanged a few messages with random friends yesterday, a few with Oliver that seem like lovey-dovey bullshit, if you ask me, and then nothing once the party started.”

“And Oliver?”

“We haven’t found his phone. The Fort Collins tech team is working on the call logs and records.”

“Obviously you’ve got this under control,” I say. “Run with it and update me. I also need security run on everyone in the hotel. Do you have the manpower to make that happen?”

“I can collect all the data from the hotel, but it’s a lot of people.”

“Gather the list. I’ll text you with the contact on my team that can handle it.” We both whip out our phones, and I connect him with Aiden. When I’ve gotten him the needed information, I add, “The killer likely straddled Oliver to stab him. There was no blood on Carrie’s inner thighs. So either she cleaned up or she didn’t kill him. Keep an eye out for discarded clothing.”

“Do you really think she’s innocent?” he asks.

“It’s dangerous to assume anything this early. It taints the entire way you look at the investigation. I’m going to talk to Lana Melody, who I know personally. She’s a friend of Carrie’s and says she has something to tell me I need to know.”

York’s brow shoots up. “Really? I’m intrigued. Need a sidekick?”

“Reconsider that offer,” I say, good-naturedly. “I’m a Castle, remember?”

He grunts. “Right. I’ll stand down.”

“Good plan,” I say, and by that, I mean for him and me. After Whit, I’m done with sidekicks, at least for a while. “Divide and conquer and all that wonderful stuff,” I add, stepping around him as I head toward room 428.

There quickly, I’ve managed one knock on the door when Lana yanks it open. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen. She’s changed into leggings and a black sweater, and her face is now bare. “I can’t believe this has really happened,” she says, backing up and letting me in the room. “But thank God I convinced you to come.”

I follow her into the small room, and she motions to the bed. “That’s our only chance of sitting.”

“Works for me,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Anything that lets me relax and caffeinate for at least ten seconds without interruption. A shower would be nice, too, but I have a feeling that isn’t happening until bedtime.”

We settle onto the end of the bed and angle toward each other, me sipping my coffee, Lana hugging herself and looking tormented. “Talk to me,” I say, setting the cup on the floor. “What’s bothering you?”

“She loved him passionately,” she says instantly. “And she’s never been anything but kind and nice to me and everyone around her.”

“But,” I prod, pushing for what is obviously there.

“I don’t want to make her look guilty. That’s not what my intent is here.”

“I don’t assume anyone’s guilt,” I say. “Tell me.”

She scowls, clearly not happy with that answer. “How can you not assume her guilt? I saw her. She was covered in blood.”

“I’ve seen a number of innocent people covered in blood. They find their loved one and immediately try to revive them. That gets messy.”

“Is that what she did?” she asks hopefully.

“I can’t relay details on an active investigation. I’m simply assuring you that I never assume guilt. Talk to me,” I urge.

“God. I hate this, but I know I have to tell you. A few weeks back, late one evening while Carrie and Oliver waited on a food delivery, Oliver received another delivery, a gift.”

“What kind of gift?”

“A big box with a red ribbon on it. It was addressed to only him. The handwriting appeared female. Apparently, he opened it and shut it without showing Carrie what was inside. He told her it was a bad gag gift from a groomsman.”