Page 157 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“What are you two doing out of your room?” Officer Anderson’svoice sounds weary. One of her braids has started to come undone, and she looks exhausted. When I’m tired, I look old. But Officer Anderson looks like she’s gone through one of those de-agers they use onStar Warsactors. She was in her mid-twenties when she started, but now she’s just a kid.

“You’d be drinking if you were us, too,” Harper mutters, then finishes her drink and motions to the bartender to bring her another.

Officer Anderson shakes her head but doesn’t disagree. Instead, she pulls up a stool and sits on the other side of Harper.

I think about offering her a drink, but that would be bad form.

Police aren’t supposed to drink on the job. Right?

Officer Anderson puts her elbows on the bar and sighs heavily.

“Tough day?” I say, and maybe I bury my sarcasm.

Maybe.

“This is my first assignment. I only started in the job last week. It’s why I got stuck here when everyone else evac’d with the storm.”

“Yikes.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

She eyes Harper’s glass, but I’m not sure if it’s because she wants what’s in it or because she’s worried about Harper.

“Any sign of Shawna?” I ask.

Officer Anderson frowns at herself in the mirror behind the bar. “No.”

“What about her room?”

“She’s not there.”

Harper lifts her head. “I’m sure she’s inside somewhere. It’s dangerous out there.”

“Rain is letting up a bit. Storm should be gone by morning.”

There’s a loudCLAPof thunder, as if the weather disagrees with her.

“That’s what the weatherman’s saying, anyway.”92

“So, we’re just supposed to wait till morning with a murderer on the loose?” Harper asks.

“It’s not an ideal situation.”

“You don’t say.”

“Did you find anything in her room?” I ask.

“She had several phones.” She opens her satchel again and plunks three evidence bags down on the counter, each with a phone in it.

I recognize one of them. “That’s Fred’s burner phone.” I point to the one in the middle. “The one that was missing after we found José’s body.”

“Interesting.”

“That one’s hers,” Harper says, pointing to an iPhone in a black case with decals on the back. I look more closely. It’s a sprig of lemons and a coastline that looks like the Amalfi Coast.

“How did she get this?” I say to Harper, pointing at it.

“What’s the significance of the sticker?” Officer Anderson asks.

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