“Get your fucking microphone and meet me outside.”
“Oh, hello, Lucy, how nice to hear from you,” Ben says on the other line.
I shift the phone to my other ear as I pull my bedroom door shut behind me. “Just get it. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay. Why?”
“We’re going to the damn wedding venue.”
 |
Ben meets me outside his hotel, and we drive to the Byrd Estate. I take us slowly through the winding dirt road that leads up to the event center. Huge, old trees provide shade, and the historic house looms up ahead, a large white tent set up behind it. I can’t imagine what kind of masochists are having an outdoor wedding in August.
A woman in an alarmingly bright white suit scurries out of the house as I park and we get out of the car.
“Well, hi, y’all!” she says. “Are you my five thirty?” “No,” I say.
Her smile falters, but then she spots Ben. “Ben! How nice to see you again!”
“Hi, Trudy.” He swings his bag over his shoulder, holding his portable mic in one hand. The light is on; he’s recording. “Sorry to just show up unannounced.”
“Oh, it’s fine. What can I help you with?”
“Do you mind if Lucy and I take a walk around? We want to see if anything jogs her memory.”
She recoils at my name. “Oh. Well … sure, if you think it will help.”
“I fainted last time we did this, but I’ll do my best to stay upright this time.” I try to sound flippant, but my voice actually trembles a little.
I don’t think Trudy notices, because she just frowns at me. “You may tour the Byrd Estate at your own risk.”
“Thanks, Trudy,” Ben says. She turns and walks back into the building, casting a disapproving glance over her shoulder.
“You want to tell me why you wanted to come here today?” he asks me once she’s gone.
“Because maybe you’re right. I’m very sad to contribute to your already wildly overinflated ego, but, yeah. You’re right that I haven’t really tried to remember. So here we are.”
“I think my ego is average-sized.”
“Ben, focus. And we both know that it is not.”
He rolls his eyes. “All right. What should we do—” He stops as a truck rumbles up the road and comes to a stop on the other side of the parking lot. Matt jumps out.
“I invited Matt, by the way.” I wave to him.
“What the hell, Lucy?” he calls as he strides over to us. “You didn’t tell me the podcaster douche was coming.”
“Podcaster douche is recording, by the way,” Ben says, holding up the microphone.
“Of course you are.” Matt stops beside me, his fingers brushing against my arm. I move away.
“If it makes you feel better, she didn’t tell me you were coming either,” Ben says.
It doesn’t appear to make Matt feel better.
“I need someone who was there to tell me what we did that night,” I say. “Otherwise, we’re just going to be wandering aimlessly.”
“Lucy, are you sure…” Matt begins softly, but he trails off, glancing at the mic. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll walk you through it.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
“Thank you,” Ben says, flipping him off with his free hand.
Matt returns the gesture and then turns around, pointing at his truck. “I parked over there. Like Colin said, we got here before him and Savvy, and we talked to a couple in the parking lot, but not him and Savvy. The Nelsons.”
“What did you talk about?” Ben asks. “Do you remember?”
“Only because I told the police at the time. It was just small talk—the weather, how hot it was already for May. Just a quick conversation, and then we all went that way.” He points. “It was an indoor reception.” He walks around the house, and we follow him to the side doors and inside the room.
It’s empty, chairs stacked in a corner. There’s a bar at the back of the room, and my sandals click against the wood floor as I walk across it.
“Does it look familiar?” Ben asks.
“Only because I’d been to other weddings here, before that night.” I turn to Matt. “Do you remember how it was set up?”
“Like a wedding? I don’t know.” He points across the room, opposite the bar. “DJ was over there. I’m pretty sure the tables were set up along the sides? Round ones? We were sitting…” He turns in a circle, then points in the direction of the bar. “Oh! We were near the bar. I remember, because Colin said something about it. Something like, ‘Cool, easy access.’”
“Nice! Right next to the bar. Best seat in the house.”
I freeze. I can see Colin standing in front of me in his rumpled suit, grinning as he points to the bar. Savvy, already holding a glass of wine, stands on her toes and kisses his cheek.
She looks so beautiful in that pink dress. The thin straps show off all her tattoos, and it swishes around her knees as she walks. I’d forgotten what that dress looks like when it isn’t covered in blood and dirt.
The crime scene photos flash through my mind. Pink dress twisted around her legs, caked in grime. And then it’s not the crime scene, it’s right in front of me. I’m staring down at her.
But, no, that can’t be right, because it’s daylight. I never saw Savvy dead in the daylight.
I don’t think.
“Lucy.” There’s a hand on my back, and I look up to see Matt, his brow furrowed in concern. Ben, standing across from me, looks ready to catch me swooning again.
I blink, stepping away from both of them. “What else? Did we mostly stay in here?”
“I’m sorry, but most of the actual reception is a blur,” Matt says apologetically. “And you and I weren’t really getting along that day, so we didn’t actually stay together most of the evening. Savvy didn’t like me, and she didn’t pretend otherwise. I can’t really blame her, I guess.”
I look at him in surprise, but his gaze is across the room.
“You and Savvy stuck together that night, for the most part. Not the whole time, though. At one point I looked around and Savvy was at the table without you, and then I looked again like half an hour later and I still couldn’t find you.”
“I remember you telling the police that.” I glance at Ben. “You never found any guests to confirm where I was?”
“No. No one remembers seeing you anywhere out of the ordinary.” He points across the room. “The restrooms are that way, right? Let’s take a walk down there.”
My heart thumps frantically as I follow him across the room. I take a slow breath. There’s no reason to be nervous. I’m walking through an empty wedding venue.
Savvy’s in the hallway, wearing her pink dress, holding a bloody knife.
She grins and holds it up to Matt’s face as he walks by her.
“You’re always just using whatever’s around,” she says. “Be prepared, like a Boy Scout! Bring your own murder weapon!”
I shake my head, willing the image away. We turn a corner. I stop. I look to my left.
There’s a door to the outside, sunlight shining through the small square window like it’s beckoning us over to it.
“I think I went that way,” I say.
“Outside?” Ben asks. “Why? You hate outside.”
I almost laugh as I walk to it. “I know. But I think I did.”
I push the door open, squinting in the bright sunlight. There isn’t much on this side of the building. Just a dumpster, way down at the other end of the building, and what looks like the remains of a broken canopy resting against the brick.
“Are you sure?” Matt stands with Ben in the doorway. “The outdoor area where people were smoking is on the other side.”
I take another step. There’s a little alcove, currently filled with several nearly empty cans of paint.
I can feel the brick against my back suddenly. I can smell fresh paint as lips press into mine. One of the straps of my dress has slipped down, and there’s a hand on my breast. I kiss him again. It’s a man. I can still feel the way he smashed his lips into mine.
“Lucy,” Ben says.
“Lucy,” Savvy said sharply.
I jolt. I remember the air on my breast as he’d moved his hand. I’d pulled my strap back up while she stared at me with an expression—anger? Was she mad?
I try to see the guy. I can’t. I can feel his breath against my lips. His hips grinding into mine. But there’s just empty white space when I try to see his face.
“Let’s go,” Savvy barked, and turned on her heel.
And then there’s nothing. I don’t know whether I said goodbye to whoever the guy was. I don’t know whether I followed her right away. Maybe I stayed and had sex with the mystery man. The way he was grinding his hips into mine, we may have been headed that way.
I look at Matt.
“What?” he says. “You remember why you were out here?” One thing’s for sure. The guy wasn’t Matt.
And whoever it was, he hasn’t bothered telling anyone. “No,” I say. “I don’t remember.”
Matt cocks an eyebrow. He knows I’m lying.
