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The two officers moved closer to our table, and Rigid elbowed King.
King casually moved to the other side of the room, out of earshot of the officers.
The shit that was going on with Royal in Destin had nothing to do with the cops. We knew Marco was handling it. I assumed the phone call King was on was the answer we had been waiting for, but now with Pam missing, heading to Florida might look a bit suspicious.
Shitshow to the tenth degree.
Ransom walked into the common room with his phone to his ear. Indiana and Julie followed closely behind. They were both crying.
Fuck.
Shit.
Ransom ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket.
“Nobody leaves until I talk to each and every one of you,” he announced.
King was still on the other side of the room talking to Marco, but he turned at Ransom’s voice.
“We’ve located Pam.” Ransom sighed. “This is now a homicide investigation.”
*
Chapter Thirteen
Indiana
My body was numb.
How had this happened again?
“Indiana.”
I lifted my head. “Yeah?”
Frost handed me a glass. “Drink this, darlin’.”
I sniffed the amber liquid and wrinkled my nose. “What is it?”
“Whiskey.”
“I’m more of a fruity drink or beer girl,” I grumbled. I set it on the table in front of me. That was going to stay right there.
“I tried to tell him that,” Cyn called from behind the bar. “Let me whip you up something special, sweetie.”
Four hours ago, we had been told Pam was dead. That was some shitty news to find out before ten o’clock in the morning, so I guess that justified to start day-drinking around one.
Meg and Marley were in the kitchen putting something together for lunch while Cyn and Gwen played bartender. I had been headed to the kitchen to assist Meg, but Marley had jumped up and insisted she was going to help.
Greta had informed me I should have fought a little harder to be the one to help Meg because Marley was not the greatest cook.
Pie just kept telling me not to eat anything that looked like Jell-o because it was not, in fact, Jell-O. I had to take his advice because I figured, with the love he had for food, he knew what he was talking about.
Ransom and a couple of officers were processing the room I had shared with Pam, and we were told to stay out.
On closer inspection, they had discovered the screen on one of the windows had been cut, and there was blood on the window sill. The room I had slept in was now a crime scene.
A chill ran through me at the thought that it could have been me. I could have been the one who was dead.
