Page 80 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

I should know. I’m going to do it, too.

Fred pats himself down, then stops. “My phone’s in the room.”

Both Allison and Tyler look like they want to say something, but I stop them with my eyes.

They can be quite expressive when I want them to be.

“We’ll check it later,” I say.

“But Fred,” Emma says, “Connor said he was tracking you to some other phone?”

“I don’t have another phone. He must’ve slipped it into my pocket,” Fred says, daring Connor withhiseyes to contradict him.

“Why, Connor? Why were you tracking Fred?” Emma searches Connor’s face in a way that’s hard to resist.

“That’s confidential,” Connor says, puffing out his chest.

“Yes, yes,” Tyler says. “And not important right now, I’m sure.”

“How can you say that, Tyler?”

“I think the most important thing is to get him some medical attention. And then contact the authorities to file a complaint.”

“The police?” Fred says. “No.”

“Why not, honey?”

“It will be in all the tabloids. I’ll look like an idiot.”

“But if someone hurt you...”

“El can figure it out, right, El?”

Six pairs of eyes turn toward me. “I can try.”

“Thank you.”

“But I do think we should call in the police.”

“I doubt you can,” David says.

“Why not?”

He raises his hands like he’s conducting an orchestra, clicking his pen for emphasis. “Because of the storm.”

CHAPTER 14

You Don’t Have to Do the Dress Rehearsal the Night Before the Wedding, Do You?

Mrs. and Mr. Winter are happy to see their son safe and sound but don’t agree with his insistence on not going to the police.

But it turns out our chorus of guesses in the basement were right. Most of the police force—such as it is57—is off island, and so even if Fred wanted to call them in, it likely wouldn’t do much good until a couple of days from now when it probably won’t matter.

I’m saying that like I know something.

I don’t.

Not at this point.

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