Page 53 of The Wedding Party

“No one claimed her as an infant?” I query. “That is odd.”

“She wasn’t handed over until she was eighteen months old, and as for who the mother or father is, that information is sealed. However, her parents, Sue and Joe Reynolds, seem to be lovely people. Interesting thing. They had a son. He and Carrie were riding bikes and he was hit by a car. Carrie was twelve and he was fourteen.”

“I heard about that,” I say. “What about his parents? I don’t know enough about them.”

“Oliver’s father is a rich white boy. His mother is a rich white girl. And those aren’t my words. I’m reading from a forum on rich people I dug up.”

“A forum,” I repeat, grabbing the box sitting beside me and snatching a doughnut from inside, which I stuff into my mouth—yes, it’s cliché, but it’s also really good, and chocolate. “Which forum?”

“Reddit.”

“The Phoenix family is on Reddit?”

“People talk about them on Reddit, yep,” she says, smacking her gum a little harder. “Rich—”

“White boys,” I supply. “Got it.”

“Right. This forum considers the Phoenix father, and therefore his family, as gossip worthy as Michael Dell, Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, Steve Jobs, and so on, and so on, and so on. There are stories about all of them there. And the general consensus is that Natalie is a bitch. A lady who works at Saks said she offered to help Natalie pick a dress, and Natalie looked her up and down and then asked her if she could get someone who had better fashion sense.”

“I can see that side of her, but it doesn’t make her a killer. What else do they say about the parents?”

“Robin and Mike Phoenix are private, but people of high standards,” she says. “Very few people get inside their inner circle. Chatter says they don’t tolerate scandal.”

“And now,” I say, “they not only lost their child, they’re about to be on every news station and probably true crime media outlet in existence.”

“Exactly,” she says. “They’re going to come at you hard. Be ready.”

There’s a knock on the door, and York pokes his head into the room. “We have a problem.” He steps inside the conference room and shuts the door. “Oliver’s parents have arrived.”

“Good luck,” Hazel says. “I’ll keep working.” She disconnects and I stand up.

“I thought we were meeting them at their rental house?” I ask, already anticipating the press nightmare we’re living in.

“They aren’t here,” he says. “They went to the hospital. A nurse I know over there was reading up on the families right after they arrived when she realized what had happened. She saw Oliver’s parents walk in. She heard them tell another nurse they were Carrie’s family. The nurse let them into Carrie’s room. Agent, they’re in her room now.”

I’m already around the desk, motioning for him to open the door. “Let’s go,” I say. “And let’s pray we don’t have another homicide on our hands.”

Chapter Forty-Five

York and I arrive at the hospital and Carrie’s floor just as a man and woman step out of her room. The woman is petite, with shoulder-length brown hair and delicate features, and her pantsuit is black. The man is tall, rather thin, with thick silver hair, his pants black and his shirt a crisp white. The two of them have a regal air about them, dripping of money in that unidentifiable way that is just understood in some people’s presence.

“Check on Carrie,” I instruct York before I step directly in the Phoenixes’ path. “Mr. and Mrs. Phoenix,” I greet them, taking my assumption to the bank. “I’m FBI Special Agent Andrea Castle, with a specialty in criminal profiling. I was actually in attendance at the party. I’m greatly sorry for your loss but thankful that I’m here and able to expedite the investigation in a proactive fashion.”

“How is it that my son knew an FBI agent and we didn’t know?” Mr. Phoenix asks, and while his eyes are bloodshot, his tone is accusatory in a way that has me curious. It reminds me of my chat with Josh and his indication that my presence had been unsettling to Oliver. It’s also the same question Natalie pressed when we met.

So once again, I say, “I recently solved a high-profile series of homicides, and the press has been stalking me. The escape felt necessary.”

Mr. Phoenix’s expression pulls so tight I think he might suffocate in his own skin. “Your escape from the press failed. The bastards are all over this town, vultures ready to sink their teeth into the story of my son’s murder.”

I don’t point out the fact that the press loves them more than they do me. They have a Reddit board. But he’s still got a point. The press and vultures are synonymous. “We’ll do our best to control them,” I assure them both. “And obviously I’m sympathetic and aware of the problem.”

“We have a lot of questions,” Mr. Phoenix informs me, his voice hard now.

“Of course you do,” I say. “I thought we were meeting at your rental?”

“We’re just trying to make it through this day, Agent Castle,” Mrs. Phoenix replies, avoiding a direct commitment.

York reappears by my side and gives me a nod to tell me Carrie is safe, before introducing himself to the Phoenixes. “Detective York,” he announces. “I’m a local. We were fortunate that one of Carrie’s friends invited Agent Castle to the weekend events. She’s bringing the big guns in to this investigation.”