Page 101 of The Wedding Party

“That was unprofessional, and I’ll handle it,” I promise. “She was my friend. I’m not going to fail her or Oliver. I have a question. Did you hear anything about a woman who received a box, like a gift with a red ribbon, and then ended up dead? It was made to look like suicide, but it wasn’t?”

“Not at the conference, but it was all over the news when it happened. It was a sensationalized story by the media. Why?”

“Oliver got a box,” I say.

He pales. “That means nothing. Lots of people heard about that woman. Can you prove Lana sent the box?”

“No, but it held nasty secrets about Carrie’s past. The kind that might have made a man leave his fiancée. Seems like that could feel like a way to punish the woman who ruined her marriage.”

“Okay, well, in that case Oliver had to be alive to leave Carrie. Lana didn’t want him dead. He wanted her to suffer. Speculation, of course, but that seems like what you’re doing, too.”

“It is right now, and now that Lana’s dead, we may never know.”

He draws a deep breath and exhales. “If I could change that, I would. And I can’t focus on that or I won’t be okay.” His voice is low and raspy. I need to go to her parents. They’re in a lot of pain. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

“Answer your phone.”

“I will.” He starts to leave but pauses. “If she was going to kill someone, don’t you think it would be me?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. He walks away.

I think back to a night when Lana and I went to a restaurant and the waitress was rude to her. Lana called everyone and their uncle trying to get her fired. She would not let it go. But later, she found out the woman was a single mom with two kids. She called back and told everyone she’d had bad PMS that night and was the one who was wrong.

I don’t think Lana would kill anyone. But seek vengeance? Maybe. Carrie was no single mom, likely to inspire guilt or sympathy. And the box and the scandal it carried don’t equal murder. I hypothesize that Lana most likely heard about the box with the red ribbon with a secret inside sent to Elsa Ward by an ex on the news since the case became a headline story. Such a story would make for delicious gossip by the watercooler. Even more so lubricated by booze at a medical convention. It was, after all, a box with a secret so nasty that Elsa’s ex hoped the police would believe she killed herself when he, in fact, murdered her. Perhaps Lana didn’t think about it again, at least not until she arrived in Denver, when the talk of Carrie’s wedding and gifts brought it to the front of her mind. What better way to serve her revenge on Carrie than in a box, delivered to her fiancé, before the wedding.

I’ll be looking into Derrek with a keen eye, but my gut says he’s not involved in Oliver’s murder. And any member of law enforcement will tell you that gut feelings, when backed up with facts, matter.

I stay up most of the night reading all there is to know about Carrie’s father. The medical experts refused to declare him insane. The notes from one psychiatric professional said, “I’ve never experienced such evil up close and in person,” but I think maybe I have. It’s time to visit the one person who may very well know Carrie like no one else.

Her father.

Chapter Ninety

Norman Morrow is being held in a supermax prison in Florence, Colorado, just two hours from Denver.

After a shower and change into my standard dress pants, dress shirt, and jacket, I hit a drive-thru and then pound out the miles. On the way, I confirm with my team that Carrie has never visited Norman. Of course, Carrie could have used an alias, and probably would have. She’s clever and devious.

It’s already sunset when I arrive, and the haze of evening on a snowy, cold day has an eerie effect. I always think about the crimes a prison represents, the violence, the pain. The devastation. Prisons are the walls of evil. And I’m about to go visit the evilest of all. I sit in my car and spend a good half hour reading the file we have on Norman, and not for the first time. But I need his history to be fresh in my mind, useful in every way possible.

I head for the door, that encounter with Carrie playing in my head. I told her that her husband told me that I was pretty, a better fuck than her. This from a woman who until then I couldn’t even imagine using such crassness. The warden, Tom Green—a tall, stocky fiftysomething man with a bald head—greets me, even invites me into his office.

“Agent Castle,” he says, once I’m seated at a small round table with him, “are you sure you want to talk to Norman Morrow? Because it’s not a pleasant experience.”

“Neither is much of what I do for a living. And considering he has a daughter I believe to be a chip off the ole block, it’s necessary.”

“A daughter?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “She was put up for adoption. Her brother died when she was twelve and he was fourteen. Some believe she had something to do with his demise.”

“Interesting. And now? What did she do now?”

“Her fiancé was stabbed to death. Right now, she’s going to get off. I need to stop that from happening. I need to understand her and how to trigger her.”

“We have yet to figure out Norman’s triggers, so good luck on that one. But fair warning: One minute, he appears to be a perfectly normal person. Then the other Norman appears. And you do not want to know that Norman. He likes to play the whole split personality card.”

“Is there a medical diagnosis associated with that behavior?”

“His legal team went down that path, but at least three mental evaluations concluded that was bull crap. He’s a master manipulator who plays games with his victims, which they said is every other human he ever speaks with. The more normal he seems one moment, the more confusing the bad side is when you finally see it. The more intense the reaction. He enjoys that part. He lives for the victory it gives him. Your shock and fear are his drugs.”

I can only hope the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. If that’s true, Carrie is ripe for my taking. She’s due her victory dance or, if I have my way, her murder confession.