Page 71 of The Wedding Party

“An hour at most,” he replies. “I’ll hang out with you until you leave.” He claims the seat across from Carrie. “I hear you’re going to Rosewood, that place where the rich and famous rehab. There’s a rumor a certain actress I like will be there with you. Think you can get me an autograph?”

He’s trying to get her to admit she’s been in rehab before, or to just talk and give us something. It’s pretty smart. I let him do his thing and walk to the snack machine and plug in my card and choose a Snickers bar for breakfast. It’s not the best of choices, but I’m starving, and if I have to hunt down someone, shoot someone, or battle the press, chocolate is my kind of zippy energy.

Behind me, Carrie replies with, “I don’t know how it works in there. I’ve never been to rehab, but I’m sure autographs won’t be allowed.”

I rotate to face them, opening my Snickers but focusing on Carrie. “One day costs more than my mortgage. Or so Google told me.”

“I had no idea,” she replies. “But I’m not surprised. The Phoenixes set this up.”

“Was Oliver as extravagant as his parents?” I ask.

“Enough, you two,” Ms. Littleton warns. “She’s not answering any questions.”

“He treated me like a princess,” Carrie says. “Always good to me in every possible way.”

“At least you have the money to keep living the same lifestyle,” York adds.

“I don’t care about the money,” Carrie states.

Ms. Littleton stands up. “I’m going to have to ask you both to step out of the room.”

“But I just got here.”

At the sound of a familiar male voice, all the attention goes to the doorway, where Brody—dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that reads I’M YOUR HUCKLEBERRY—is now standing.

Chapter Sixty-Two

“What are you doing here, Brody?”

I ask the question at the same moment that Carrie does.

“I come bringing peace, love, and happiness,” he says, “and thanks to the Phoenixes, I’m keeping my promise to you, Agent Castle. I’m not drinking and driving. I turned in my rental, and I’m hitching a ride with you guys.”

“He can’t be here,” Carrie says, her voice lifting, her gaze going to her attorney. “Can he be here?”

All eyes go to me. I motion for Brody to follow me, tossing my Snickers bar in the garbage and then stepping out into the waiting room, in a corner area by the window. “What the hell is this, Brody?”

“I’m just hitching a fast ride home.”

“And you thought riding with us was a good idea?” I demand. “How did you even know when to be here?”

“I called to check on the Phoenixes, and they spared me booking my own bird. They offered me a lift.”

“Are you spying for them?” I challenge.

“I’m not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Carrie’s attorney is on their payroll.”

“She’d lose her license.”

“And get rich doing it,” he counters.

“Is that your game?”

“I’m already rich, Agent Castle. I’ll show you my bank account if you’ll have coffee with me back in Denver.”

“This is not a negotiation, and unless you’re involved with Oliver’s murder, I do not care about your bank account.”

“I’m not even going to get defensive. I have no reason to be. We both know the night he was killed I was miles deep in—”