As she saw them step off the platform, she grabbed Alex’s arm.
“Come on, we have to find Will,” she said, leading him in the opposite direction of the couple.
The bar was set away from the resort, an oval island extending out into the beach. While the end of the bar closest to the resort was densely crowded, the other end was set farther out into the darkness of the beach. She could see a bleach-blonde leaning over a man at the bar. She instantly recognized the mousy-brown hair of Will Sauder.
With relief, she headed in his direction. She wasn’t sure how she should be feeling in that moment. Anger toward Will? Sadness for him? She had to suspend any emotions until she knew the truth. As they came closer, she could already see he was in bad shape. His hair was matted down on his forehead, and he was wearing a white V-neck T-shirt splattered with stains. It was a sharp contrast to the cocktail attire of the rest of the partygoers. She could smell a mixture of booze and body odor within a few feet of his perch.
“Will?” she said, edging closer.
“Sydney?” he said, looking up at her. She could immediately see his eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep. “Sydney, it’s Lizzy. She’s…gone.”
Sydney reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Perhaps a hug should have been in order, but she was sure Rent the Runway would not accept her dress back if she had any of what Will was wearing on it.
“I know, Will, I’m so sorry.” She could barely hold back her own tears as she spoke. She took a deep breath and stood back, steadying herself. “Do you know what happened?”
Will looked down at his glass, which appeared to be a fresh cocktail of some sort with a lime hanging off the side. She guessed that the bartender didn’t have the heart to cut him off yet.
“They said it was food poisonin’,” he said, shaking his head. Sydney and Alex exchanged a look. “I don’t get it. One minute she was fine, and then”—he shook his head harder—“she was gone.”
Will was clearly drunk, and she started to wonder if her plans to sniff out his story were ill conceived. Sydney had to swallow hard as a lump of emotion began to form in her throat. Alex stepped in closer to her, placing a hand on her back. Will seemed to take note of him and peered up at him curiously.
“Who’s this? Captain ’Merica?” he said, slurring.
“This is Alex. He is my date for the wedding.”
“Huh,” Will replied, squinting slightly. “Where’s Jack?”
Sydney took a step back, tripping on the hem of her dress. Alex quickly reached over to steady her. It had been months since she had heard any of her friends speak Jack’s name. She was sure Will was in shock, possibly forgetting that Jack was dead. Her heart began pumping at a fast pace as she felt the heat rise into her cheeks. It took every bit of willpower she could muster not to turn and run away that very moment.
Will pushed back his bar stool and tried to stand.
“No worries,” he said. He stumbled, groping for the bar as he tried to regain his balance. His tall chair tipped back, knocking Will’s feet from under him and sending him tumbling to the ground. Sydney thought she saw something fall out of his pocket as he fell.
Alex jumped into action, reaching down to pull Will back to his feet. The sudden jerking motion caused Will to lurch forward and vomit all over Alex’s pants. Sydney took a few steps back, covering her mouth. To his credit, Alex kept his hands on Will’s arm, continuing to steady him.
“Sorry, Captain,” Will said, a look of embarrassment crossing his face.
“No worries,” said Alex. Sydney saw him scan the area. He then nodded to two servers who were watching the entire scene. As they approached, Alex handed Will over to them.
“Make sure he gets back to his room,” he said. They nodded.
Meanwhile, Sydney noticed the dark object that had fallen out of Will’s pocket was lying on the ground. As Will stumbled away, she pulled up the hem of her long dress and reached down to pick it up.
What she held in her hand was a dark grey velvet box. She knew what small boxes of this size usually held. Her heart began to beat a little faster, and she pried open the lid. She let out a small gasp as Alex returned to her side.
“What is it?” he asked.
“An engagement ring.”
They stood there next to each other at the end of the bar staring at the box. As the crowd chattered raucously around them, they stood quietly, as if having a moment of silence for a wedding that would never be.
“Oh, Lizzy,” she said breathlessly, staring at the ring. “She would have been so happy.” The last words came out almost as a whisper.
The pain of her past was now unavoidable. She had lost so many dreams of her own when Jack died. Now she had to accept the loss of her friend’s dreams too. A wave of nausea hit her and she swayed. She didn’t think she could bear another moment of the party.
“We need to go,” she said, as she clipped the lid shut on the box. “Here, take this. We can return it to Will later.” She thrust the small box toward him.
“I think you’re right,” he said, pocketing the box into his stained pants.
As the two of them made their way to the beachside path that lead back to the hotel, Sydney began to put together what had happened. If Will was truly set to propose to her friend, surely he wouldn’t have wanted to kill her. He obviously had plans for their future, not to mention the state of grief he was in seemed genuine. The thought made her sad, as she knew Lizzy had always wanted to settle down and raise a family.
Alex kept his arm around her and they walked briskly down the path. She was too exhausted to pretend she didn’t need the support right now. She could see the sprawling hotel up ahead and tried to focus on the silky soft bed sheets that awaited her arrival. She wanted to close her eyes and make it all go away.
But one question continued to burn intensely in her mind.
If Will didn’t kill Lizzy, who did?
Fifteen
Ethan
The next morning Ethan arrived back at the hotel with two arms full of paper gift bags, bursting with brightly colored tissue paper. He had spent the morning at Montego Bay running errands and picking out gifts for his future wife. Although it was only late morning, the heat from the sun was already causing him to sweat through his clothing. As soon as he walked back through the white archways of the hotel, he pulled a small box out of one of the bags and handed the rest over to a bellman. He then set his eyes on the lobby bar.
He hooked his sunglasses into his pale blue shirt and sat down on a leather upholstered bar stool partly facing the ocean. He placed the box on the countertop next to him. The smell of Jamaican jerk chicken wafted over the bar—the restaurant next door was preparing for lunch. He could hear the clanging of silverware as the hotel chef barked orders at his staff.
“What can I get for ya?” asked the bartender, tossing a white bar towel over his shoulder as he walked down to Ethan’s perch.
“Double scotch, Dewar’s, on the rocks.”
“Yeah, man.” The dark-skinned bartender nodded and strolled back to his row of liquors. There was one couple at the far end of the bar who looked like they had just returned from the pool. Other than that, the bar was fairly empty. Ethan’s phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his linen pants and glanced down at the number. He had two text message notifications.