mind raced. May 20? Kat and Parker had flown to Las Vegas that week for a talent booking and promotions conference at the Venetian Hotel and Casino. I was originally supposed to go with Kat, but two days before we were scheduled to leave, I'd caught what I was pretty sure was a mutant version of the flu. I had a 101-degree fever for several days and almost ended up in the hospital. There was just no way I could make the trip.
Parker jumped at the chance to fill in for me. He planned to gamble away the last of his inheritance and hit up a classic car expo that was happening that weekend just off the Vegas Strip. Laura and Reese were left in charge of Castle Rock while Kat and Parker took off for the weekend, and I stayed at home in bed, coughing, sneezing, and moping that I couldn't be living it up Vegas-style with my bestie.
When they came back from the trip, everything had seemed normal—or, at least, I had thought so at the time. Kat brought me chicken soup and dished about her Vegas vacation. She told me stories about lounging poolside at the hotel while hot cabana boys refilled her yard-long margarita glasses, watching the amazing fountain show at the Bellagio, and seeing a Cirque du Soleil show at Treasure Island. Exchanging vows with Parker certainly never came up.
If Kat had married Parker, why would they have kept it secret for the past six months? More importantly, if my best friend was now Parker's wife, what in the hell was he doing in his office with Laura yesterday? Something didn't smell right about this whole situation.
I didn't have very long to process the news. Detective Dixon took the paper and envelope back from me, returned them to his coat pocket, then he fired off his next question. "Do you have any reason to believe that anyone you know or work with wanted Parker dead?"
I shook my head, dazed. "I don't really know what to believe anymore," I said quietly. I let his words sink in, and I looked up, confused. "Wait—I thought Parker's death was ruled a suicide."
The detective glanced back at my office door to make sure that it was properly closed this time—he'd learned from his mistake the night before. Still, he leaned in close and lowered his voice. "We're still waiting on the coroner's report," he confided. "But the preliminary report from the crime scene notes the presence of an unexplainable wound on the back of Mr. Deering's head. Parker landed face-first,"—I cringed as he said this, once again picturing my poor boss face-down on the concrete—"but there was a contusion at the base of his skull that was inconsistent with the angle he landed. Slight bruising suggests that it occurred before his fall. If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone clocked him good before he fell." Dixon leaned back in his chair again and gave me a suspicious look. "Know anyone who might've wanted to hit Mr. Deering?"
The blood drained from my face. Between what Bronwyn told me at lunch and my vivid nightmare from the night before, Dixon's theory made a lot of sense. I didn't know for sure if Parker was dead before he fell, but one thing was certain: he was at least unconscious when he tumbled from the tower. He had either been pushed or dumped over the side—which meant someone had been in the tower with him.
Bronwyn chose that moment to pop into the office with our coffee. Dixon eyed my pale face and must have decided that perhaps I needed some time to think about all this new information before I could tell him anything of use. "I'll take mine to go," he said, rising from his chair. He took the Styrofoam cup from Bronwyn's outstretched hand. "Amelia, if you think of anything you want to tell me, give me a call." He slid his card across my desk and strode out the door.
Bron cocked her head and eyed me, obviously wanting to know what went down in my office while she was making coffee. I didn't have time to explain to her now—I needed to talk to Kat. "Stay here," I told her then I bolted from the
Parker jumped at the chance to fill in for me. He planned to gamble away the last of his inheritance and hit up a classic car expo that was happening that weekend just off the Vegas Strip. Laura and Reese were left in charge of Castle Rock while Kat and Parker took off for the weekend, and I stayed at home in bed, coughing, sneezing, and moping that I couldn't be living it up Vegas-style with my bestie.
When they came back from the trip, everything had seemed normal—or, at least, I had thought so at the time. Kat brought me chicken soup and dished about her Vegas vacation. She told me stories about lounging poolside at the hotel while hot cabana boys refilled her yard-long margarita glasses, watching the amazing fountain show at the Bellagio, and seeing a Cirque du Soleil show at Treasure Island. Exchanging vows with Parker certainly never came up.
If Kat had married Parker, why would they have kept it secret for the past six months? More importantly, if my best friend was now Parker's wife, what in the hell was he doing in his office with Laura yesterday? Something didn't smell right about this whole situation.
I didn't have very long to process the news. Detective Dixon took the paper and envelope back from me, returned them to his coat pocket, then he fired off his next question. "Do you have any reason to believe that anyone you know or work with wanted Parker dead?"
I shook my head, dazed. "I don't really know what to believe anymore," I said quietly. I let his words sink in, and I looked up, confused. "Wait—I thought Parker's death was ruled a suicide."
The detective glanced back at my office door to make sure that it was properly closed this time—he'd learned from his mistake the night before. Still, he leaned in close and lowered his voice. "We're still waiting on the coroner's report," he confided. "But the preliminary report from the crime scene notes the presence of an unexplainable wound on the back of Mr. Deering's head. Parker landed face-first,"—I cringed as he said this, once again picturing my poor boss face-down on the concrete—"but there was a contusion at the base of his skull that was inconsistent with the angle he landed. Slight bruising suggests that it occurred before his fall. If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone clocked him good before he fell." Dixon leaned back in his chair again and gave me a suspicious look. "Know anyone who might've wanted to hit Mr. Deering?"
The blood drained from my face. Between what Bronwyn told me at lunch and my vivid nightmare from the night before, Dixon's theory made a lot of sense. I didn't know for sure if Parker was dead before he fell, but one thing was certain: he was at least unconscious when he tumbled from the tower. He had either been pushed or dumped over the side—which meant someone had been in the tower with him.
Bronwyn chose that moment to pop into the office with our coffee. Dixon eyed my pale face and must have decided that perhaps I needed some time to think about all this new information before I could tell him anything of use. "I'll take mine to go," he said, rising from his chair. He took the Styrofoam cup from Bronwyn's outstretched hand. "Amelia, if you think of anything you want to tell me, give me a call." He slid his card across my desk and strode out the door.
Bron cocked her head and eyed me, obviously wanting to know what went down in my office while she was making coffee. I didn't have time to explain to her now—I needed to talk to Kat. "Stay here," I told her then I bolted from the
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