When the sun dipped below the crystal blue ocean, she was finally released. A black town car was waiting to take her and Ethan to the resort. Even though Will was nowhere in sight, Marissa was too exhausted to worry about him. She slumped into the black leather seat and fell asleep on Ethan’s shoulder.
So that morning, as she rose to answer the door, was the first time since she left the airport that she had even had a chance to think about what to do next. And a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her that things might not be as they seemed.
She shook away any more dark thoughts, wrapped herself in a pale pink silk robe, and pulled open the door.
“Sorry to interrupt you, madam, but you have a meeting this morning with the event planner in thirty minutes,” said Simon, the personal butler who had been assigned to them for their stay.
Simon was a willowy figure, who looked to be in his late sixties. He had probably been as tall as Ethan when he was young, but the years had given him a slight bend in his back. He stooped over a silver tray of steaming coffee and pastries and gave her a timid smile. “And I’ve brought you some coffee.”
“No, it’s fine.” She mustered up a weak smile and took the tray from his bony hands. “Thank you, Simon.”
Ethan was awake and stared groggily at her as she sat back down in bed. She placed the silver tray in the swirled sheets next to his long body. She could feel the heat from him as she settled in closer; he had always been a hot sleeper. Part of her just wanted to curl up in his arms and go back to sleep. Instead, she handed him his coffee and crossed her legs.
“I can’t believe she’s gone. How could someone so young and healthy die from cardiac arrest?” she said. There must have a been a thousand other questions that were rattling through her head at the moment. But it was the first thought that whizzed into her head.
“I don’t know.” Ethan stared at his coffee after taking a sip. The steam wafted up and shimmered in the morning sunlight. “But the medical examiner and police are investigating her death. So we don’t have to worry. I’m sure they will find out what happened.”
He placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. He knew that was her soft spot. But Marissa didn’t care for his answer. He seemed so quick to dismiss the problem and embrace the idea that the police would just handle it. She stared down at her robe and thought again about what the inspector had asked her.
“I’m not so sure. I mean, how great can the Jamaican police be?” She felt like a snob for even thinking it, but she was guessing the Jamaican police force was not exactly a well-funded operation.
“Lizzy’s an American citizen. I’m sure they’ll send someone from the States to help with the investigation.”
Investigation, she thought. It sounded so final, so real. She felt her eyes burn with tears. Ethan seemed to pick up on her distress. He put down his cup and placed his arms around her.
“Listen, there is nothing we can do about it now, honey. We’ve given our statements. We’ve cooperated with the police. Let them do their jobs, and we can focus on what’s next.” He took a deep breath. “Do you still want to go through with the wedding?”
The tears began to flow at that point. Marissa’s brain flashed memories of the last few months and all the work Lizzy had done to help her with the wedding. Her friend was genuinely happy for her. Lizzy recognized this was a chance for both her, an orphan, and Ethan, who had lost his twin brother, to start a new life together. She knew her friend wanted that for her. She just didn’t know if she had the strength to do it without her.
After what seemed like an eternity, she felt her breathing slow. She began to take some deep breaths, a technique she learned through years of yoga practice. This wasn’t just about her; it was a fresh start for all of them. She knew Lizzy would have wanted this for her.
She looked at Ethan sitting next to her, his eyes conveying sympathy and support. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
“Yes, I think we should. For us. And for Lizzy.” She took a long drink from her coffee cup as if washing away any last doubts she had about the wedding. “I think that’s what she would have wanted.”
Eight
Sydney
When Alex stepped into her room, Sydney immediately noticed his smell. He must have been wearing cologne, a spicy musk that smelled expensive. He had swapped his terrible khaki pants for a thin grey hoodie, skinny jeans, and Nike sneakers. It was a noted improvement that caught her off guard. Sydney was even more surprised when he pulled his hands up and revealed he had brought her breakfast.
“Morning, Sydney. I brought you a cappuccino and pastries,” Alex said with a forced smile, thrusting a coffee and paper bag toward her.
“Good morning,” she said and quickly grabbed the coffee and brown bag from his hands. “And thank you. I’m starving.” Her stomach grumbled at the sight of the food, and she realized it’d been over twenty-four hours since she had eaten anything.
“Unfortunately, you’ll have to eat in the car. They want to see you back at the airport, go over the next steps. And”—he gave her an unexpected smile—“you’ll get your phone back.”
“Thank goodness. I need to talk to Marissa; she must be freaking out right now.”
A concerned look fluttered across Alex’s face and then quickly disappeared. He bent down and pulled the handle from her suitcase.
“Here, let me grab your suitcase.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
At least he’s being a gentleman, she thought. Having an FBI escort was new territory for her; she wasn’t sure what to expect.
As they rode back to the airport, Sydney scarfed down two pastries and practically chugged her cappuccino. She pelted Alex with questions about the investigation, which got her nowhere. He was a citadel of information, impenetrable. She quickly decided she was going to have to change tactics if she was to get any information out of him.
“So, have you ever had to shoot a gun at someone?”
“Yes, once,” he said. “But I can’t tell you any more.” He paused. “It’s classified.”
“Oh please. I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen on Criminal Minds.”
“You watch Criminal Minds? That’s a bit dark for your taste, isn’t it?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She felt immediately defensive, like he wasn’t taking her seriously. But she knew what he was alluding to. It wasn’t the first time she’d been underestimated because of her looks, or rather, all the time she spent on her looks.
“I happen to like crime shows. Besides”—she gave him a sideways glance—“I have insomnia, and that show is always on TV.”
Alex shrugged, keeping his hands at ten and two on the wheel. It was the first time she noticed the indent on his left ring finger. She’d been on the single scene for long enough to know what that meant. He was either married or recently divorced. He seemed to catch her eyes lingering on his hand and dropped it down on his lap.
“Well, not everything is like you see on TV. I wish we solved every case in just under an hour with a neat little ending and a moral takeaway. But in my work, it’s usually much more complicated…and messy.”