Page 44 of The Wedding Party

“We all work together,” Bianca says. “She joined the ER about two years ago, and she and I were instant friends. We all were.”

“But you’re the closest to her?” I ask.

“We’re all close,” she reiterates. “That’s why there isn’t a maid of honor. She called us all family.”

“Lana’s part of the group now, too, right?”

“Lana is kind of a loner,” Tabitha says. “She doesn’t like the ER. She resists becoming a part of our group.”

“But you’re friends?” I ask.

“Of course,” Bianca confirms. “Lana is hilarious and loads of fun. She just can’t handle the blood and death. It’s not her thing.”

And yet Carrie told her about the box, I think, but I ask, “Had Carrie and Oliver been fighting lately?”

They all murmur quick replies that amount to a denial of any strife between the future married couple. No one brings up the box, but once we’re back in Denver and one-on-one, that may change.

“I understand Carrie was upset over the male dancers?” I ask.

“She was worried about betraying Oliver,” Bianca says. “But she got over it. She had fun.”

“Was she angry about Oliver being around female dancers?”

“Angry?” Bianca asks. “That’s not Carrie’s thing. She doesn’t get angry. She didn’t like the idea of the dancers, but she knew Oliver wouldn’t cheat on her.”

She doesn’t get angry, I repeat in my mind. That is, of course, disingenuous. Everyone gets angry. To say that they do not is a lie. The question is, Who’s lying? Carrie’s friends to protect her? Or has Carrie lied to her friends about who, and what, she is?

“When was the last time any of you saw Carrie?” I ask the group.

“She was at the bar with us,” Sally says. “She left when we left.”

“Which was when?” I press.

“Around two thirty,” Tabitha interjects. “I remember looking at the clock. I saw some horror movie where two o’clock was when a demon came out to taunt people. I was spooked by that idea and the hotel in general and came back here to stay with Bianca and Sally.”

“Was Oliver with Carrie when she left?” I ask.

“No,” Bianca supplies. “He was still at his party.”

“Okay,” I say. “And just so you’re not sideswiped,” I add, “we’ll likely talk to all of you one-on-one once we get back to Denver. For now, before I leave, is there anything any of you think I need to know now?”

“I know it looks bad,” Bianca says, “but I also know she didn’t do this.”

The other women murmur their agreement, and I stand up. “Thank you, ladies. We’re hoping to get you all out of here soon.” I start to turn and change my mind. I glance between them and divulge what I have not to this point. “She was naked, covered in his blood, and in the attic. If there’s anything I need to know, tell me now.”

Bianca stands. “Naked? In an attic? I don’t understand. I thought she was in her room?” She holds up her hands. “That’s insane. She’s shy, extremely modest. I mean, to the point of ridiculous sometimes.”

“I agree,” Sally adds. “She wouldn’t run around the hotel naked, not unless she was terrified for her life, and even then, it’s hard to imagine.”

“She had to be running from someone,” Tabitha suggests. “Running for her life.” Her hand smacks over her mouth before she pulls back her fingers and says, “Oh my God. Poor Carrie. What really happened last night?”

“That is the question,” I say. “I’ll be in touch, ladies.”

I head for the door, and the word running sticks in my mind.

Carrie claimed that she was running as well, but she couldn’t tell me from who or what. But as I step into the hallway, I don’t believe the answer is in the minds of the women I just left. I think it’s in that box.

Chapter Thirty-Seven