Page 18 of The Wedding Party

“Not at all,” he says. “The more the merrier. I’d say we feel safer for your presence, but I’m not sure you have authority over the ghostly realm. And on another note, no wonder you were checking on me. It’s your nature to be suspicious.”

“I prefer ‘protective and helpful.’”

His eyes gleam just a bit, as if there is more to this conversation than what’s on the surface. I’m ready to find out what, but I never get the chance. Carrie chooses that moment to appear and link her arm with Oliver’s. “I see you two met finally,” she says. “I was telling Oliver we have an FBI agent in the house.”

“Don’t you mean schoolteacher?” Oliver asks, eyeing Carrie and adding, “She’s incognito, hiding from the press.”

“Oh, right,” Carrie replies and grins at me. “From now on, you are not an FBI agent. Because as much as I’m all about your job, honestly, you scare everyone more than the ghosts in this place.”

“I get the fear thing a lot,” I say, not at all surprised by her accurate assessment. Law enforcement stirs a mix of comfort and anxiety in people. There’s no way around it.

Lana appears by my side. “No ghosts or orbs. It’s kind of anticlimactic. At least we could have gotten a ghost playing the piano for us, but no. Nothing.” She sighs. “No single men lining up to date me. No ghosts lining up to entertain me.”

We all laugh and Carrie snags Oliver’s hand. “Let’s go look for ghosts and hot men to entertain Lana.”

“Can I meet the one who looks like Leonardo DiCaprio?” Lana asks. “The man, not the ghost. I have no idea what a ghost looks like, but I’m sure it’s no Leo.”

Everyone laughs some more, and the three of them, no doubt expecting me to follow, are on the move. But I don’t follow. I hang back and do so with two thoughts: Carrie and Oliver seem to be a happy couple, and Oliver doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable with me at all after what happened upstairs. But looks can be deceiving.

My impression of the couple is simple. I feel as if I’m working on a box puzzle, and one of the pieces that should work with the others just doesn’t quite fit. But their relationship is none of my business.

Chapter Sixteen

The next stop on the tour is the underground caves, used ages ago by staff to move around beneath the hotel. Ripe with quartz and limestone, they are said to attract ghostly spirits. Right now, I’m pretty ready to go to my room and finish that profile I worked up for Whit’s case, but Lana won’t hear of it. She’s been promised an intro to Josh, the best man and Leo look-alike, but she’s nervous. I’m her safety net, but I’m done after this part of the tour.

The cavern is as expected—a small, tight space with a low ceiling and lots of rock formations. We pile in, and I briefly meet a few of the men here at the party, because how can I not? We’re squeezed into tunnels like sardines.

We’re deep in the caverns when the tour guide turns off all the lights. Once again, we’re hunting for orbs. Once again, there is nothing. There are whispers and flickers of random flashlights. Then more darkness, more nothingness.

That is, until someone screams bloody murder, quite literally, as in letting out a bloodcurdling scream. At this point, I can only assume the woman has caused bleeding in at least a handful of eardrums.

Lights come on, and I’m already pushing through the crowd toward the scream, my hand in my purse on my weapon, which I don’t pull, not yet. I can hear a woman speaking panicked, muffled Spanish, and as I clear the crowd, I find Bianca in a corner with Carrie next to her.

“Someone . . .” Bianca says as I step in front of her, “someone touched my hair and whispered in my ear.”

My hand slides away from my purse. She thinks a ghost touched her, and that is so not in my wheelhouse. Call the Ghostbusters, not the FBI, for this kind of playdate. We do monsters, not ghosts. Furthermore, I’m not the warm and fuzzy kind of gal. I leave the delivery of comfort and creating a sense of well-being to Carrie and the tour guide, who is now by Bianca’s side as well. For my part, I make a beeline for the door. Once I’ve cleared the caverns and stepped into the lobby, I hear, “Is the FBI agent scared of the dark?”

I pause at the unfamiliar mocking voice, turning to find a dark-haired man in khakis and a button-down leaning on the wall. He’s tall. Fit. Attractive enough, I guess, in someone’s book, if not mine, and despite the severeness of his features. At Lana’s insistence, she had given me a rundown on every human, and supposed ghost, attending the party, so I know him to be a groomsman named Cade Winston.

“The FBI agent is not scared of the dark,” I guarantee. “Are you?”

He laughs, the voice as sharp as his nose. “I’m not. I’m a surgeon, and I had a call related to a patient, though I do admit I’m less entertained by the ghostly premise of the tour than others present.”

“Yes,” I agree. “I deal with enough monsters without adding ghosts to the picture.” I prepare to depart. “Have a good night.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

I don’t even consider the offer. “I actually have some work to do, but thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow night at the big party.”

“You will,” he says. “I’ll look for you.”

I give him a nod and turn away. What I don’t tell him is that I won’t look for him.

Surgeons, ER doctors, and even members of law enforcement save lives, or they should, but a select few possess a God complex that I can spot a mile away. This man is one of those few. And that’s a little too like the Spider Man and my father to suit me right now.

Chapter Seventeen

CARRIE