by Lisa Regan
Silence fell between them. Josie looked down at her dress, immaculate white. How could she tell him? If a child had been murdered in the grounds of the resort where they were planning to marry, on their wedding day, Josie wasn’t sure she could go through with it. It wasn’t just any child, it was a girl she had met only three months earlier. A sweet, quiet girl with a shy smile but a fierceness about her, particularly in the way she had hovered protectively over her little sister. A deep ache opened in Josie’s chest and flooded her body.
She sensed more than saw Noah take two long strides toward her. Then his hand appeared, palm open, inviting. She placed her own hand in his and looked up at him.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Two
In the lobby, Celeste Harper waited, her tall, thin frame draped in a regal maroon gown that flowed to her ankles. Dark curls cascaded to her bare shoulders. Beside her stood her husband, Adam Long, dressed in his customary chef’s garb. He held his white hat in both hands. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to look. Although he wasn’t that much older than his wife, his hair had already turned bright white and he hadn’t bothered to regularly dye it. “Makes me look more distinguished,” he had joked during one of the many meetings Josie and Noah had had with him, Celeste, and Tom to plan their nuptials. Celeste was heir and owner of the resort, and Adam was the head chef. They were usually pleasant and generous with their smiles, but as Josie and Noah descended the grand central staircase hand-in-hand, Josie saw that Adam’s skin was ashen. Celeste held her cell phone to one ear while she pressed her other hand against her forehead. She paced back and forth near the lobby’s front desk, whispering angrily into her phone.
Adam saw them first and offered a weak smile. Before he could speak, Celeste ended her call, tucked her cell phone into a hidden pocket of her dress and held up both hands, signaling for them to stop. “Please,” she said. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but everything is going to be fine. We’ve got this under control.”
Adam didn’t look convinced. His fingers worried the stitching of his hat.
Josie said, “We understand the body of a child has been found at the church.”
Celeste frowned, her brow furrowing. “Sadly, yes. But the police are handling it. I assure you, you need not concern yourself with such a terrible thing on your wedding day.”
Josie said, “We are the police.”
Celeste smiled. “I know you are. I only meant that other members of your department are already there. You have no need to worry. It’s being handled by your colleagues as we speak.”
Noah said, “Yes, we need to get over there and speak with them.”
Adam said, “Oh, I don’t think—I mean, this is your wedding day. It would be terrible to see that.”
Celeste nodded along with him. “It’s horribly tragic. We’re not suggesting otherwise, but you shouldn’t let it derail your entire wedding.”
Josie said, “If she was found outside the church, and there was foul play, our Evidence Response Team is going to need a couple of hours, at least, to process the scene. That means our ceremony can’t take place there anyway. We’re just going to take a walk to the church to talk with our colleagues.”
The skin around Celeste’s eyes tightened. “Now? Like that? You’re both already dressed for the ceremony, which we can move. It doesn’t have to be at the church. There are plenty of other lovely areas at the resort we can offer.”
“Yes,” said Adam. “We can adjust everything as needed. Your guests are already in the pre-wedding area. They seem to be having a wonderful time. I wouldn’t recommend—”
Josie tugged at Noah’s hand, moving around Adam and Celeste. “We’ll be back,” she said.
Outside, the spring air was a balmy seventy degrees. A light breeze blew across the grounds as they took the pathway from the entrance of Griffin Hall to the church. Josie’s heels clacked and her gown swished against the asphalt. They strode in silence toward the church on Griffin’s overlook. As they neared, they saw two hotel workers and Tom Booth seated on a stone bench to their right. One staff member had his face in his hands. The man in the middle wept silently, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Tom stared straight ahead, eyes vacant, a cigarette between his lips. His iPad lay abandoned on the seat beside him. Up ahead, between two hedgerows, stood Sawyer Hayes, one of Denton city’s Emergency Services workers. Today, he was dressed sharply in a navy suit. His black hair was slicked away from his face, making him look more striking and polished than Josie had ever seen him. He was a guest at their wedding, even though Noah had grown to dislike him. They had only invited him because he was Lisette’s grandson. Her only living blood relative.
The woman who eventually went on to kidnap Josie as an infant, Lila Jensen, had been in a relationship with Lisette’s son, Eli Matson. They broke up for a little over a year and during that time, Eli struck up a relationship with a different woman. That woman became pregnant with Sawyer. Before she could tell Eli about the pregnancy, Lila was back in his life, passing Josie off as his baby, and threatening anyone who might come between them. Sawyer’s mother never spoke to Eli again and had only told Sawyer about his true parentage on her deathbed two years earlier. He sought Lisette out and their DNA tests were a match. Things between him and Josie had always been prickly, but she’d done her best to treat him like family, for Lisette’s sake, at least.
Now his blue eyes locked on her, traveling up and down her body. Ignoring Noah, he said, “You’re choosing this over your own wedding?”
“Hey,” Noah said. “Watch it.”
Josie held up a hand to indicate they should both stop speaking. “I’ve got information that the team needs, Sawyer.”
“Of course you do,” he muttered.
“What are you doing here?” Noah challenged.
For the first time, Sawyer looked at him. “When word first came in to Griffin Hall, Tom said the girl was unresponsive. I came up to see if I could help, but when I got here it was pretty clear that she was already gone.”
“Then you’re no longer needed here,” Noah told him. He moved closer to Josie, putting a hand on her lower back and pressing her forward past Sawyer. “Excuse us.”
Wordlessly, Sawyer turned and started walking back toward Griffin Hall. Just beyond where he’d been standing was a uniformed Denton police officer with a clipboard. His eyes went wide with shock as they approached.
“Detective Quinn, Lieutenant Fraley, what are you—this isn’t—this is a crime scene.”
Josie glanced at his nametag. “Brennan, we’re aware that you’ve got a crime scene here. We’d like to have a look at it.”
He looked them both up and down. “Like… that?”
Josie and Noah looked at one another and then back at Brennan. Noah said, “It’s my understanding that Detectives Mettner and Palmer, Chief Chitwood, and Officer Hummel are already on the scene.”
“Yeah.”
“They were guests at our wedding,” Josie said. “They’re not dressed much differently than us.”
“Log us in,” Noah said, motioning to the clipboard.
Shaking his head, Brennan wrote their names on the clipboard and let them pass. Josie and Noah walked further down the path until they reached a long strip of crime scene tape that had been tied to the various azalea bushes and other flowers that surrounded the open area in front of the church. Standing at the edge of the tape were Gretchen, Mettner, and Chief Chitwood. Mettner talked tersely into his cell phone. Beyond the tape was Officer Hummel, now wearing a Tyvek suit over his wedding clothes. With him was Officer Jenny Chan. She hadn’t been a guest at the wedding, so Josie knew that Hummel must have called her to bring the crime scene equipment. Chan took photos while Hummel sketched out the scene in a notebook.
There was a set of stone steps that led to the front doors of the church. On the grass in front of the bottom step lay Holly Mitchell. She was dressed in a pair of pajamas: purple cotton, with yellow stars all over them. On
ly her feet were bare. She was indeed “laid out” as Gretchen had described—in the same way a person was generally positioned in a casket. Her legs were straight, her arms tucked at her sides and folded over her chest, some object beneath her hands. Her eyes were closed, and her brown hair fanned out around her head. Small flowers dotted her long locks. Josie noted white bloodroot, yellow buttercups, blue violets, and purple dead-nettle—all wildflowers that could be found anywhere in Pennsylvania this time of year.
“Someone arranged her body,” she muttered.
Chitwood, Gretchen, and Mettner—now off the phone—turned and looked at her.
“Boss,” Mettner said. “You shouldn’t be here.” He looked past her at Noah. “You either.”
“I know who this girl is,” Josie explained.
Chitwood folded his arms over his thin chest. “How in the hell do you know this girl, Quinn?”
Josie explained how Lorelei had picked her up from the side of the road three months earlier; how she’d gone back to Lorelei’s house until Noah came to get her, and how she had met Lorelei’s daughters.
“We’re going to need to talk with her mother right away,” said Gretchen.
“Who found her?” Noah asked.
“Member of the staff,” said Mettner. “He came out here to unlock the church doors and make sure everything was tidy and in order for the ceremony. He was pretty shaken. We’ll get a statement from him later.”
“Was the church locked?” Noah asked.
Mettner nodded. “Yes. No one was inside. No sign of a break-in. Whoever left her here had no interest in going inside.”
“But they left her here so she’d be found,” Josie said. “Was the person who found her the one who called 911?”
Gretchen said, “No, it was Celeste. The guy who found the body called the front desk. Two of his co-workers came out and then reported back to Celeste. She immediately called 911. Dispatch called Mett. Pretty much everyone necessary to secure and process this scene is at your wedding. So here we are.”
From behind them came the sound of heels clacking along the path. They all turned to see Dr. Anya Feist, the Medical Examiner, approaching. She was wearing a pale pink A-line dress that came to her knees, complemented by pale pink stilettos. Her silver-blonde hair cascaded to her shoulders and shimmered in the sunlight. Josie and her team usually only ever saw the doctor in scrubs or a Tyvek suit. She looked like a different woman. Still, she had the same grim smile she usually greeted them with at crime scenes. She stopped short and stared at Josie and Noah. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she said, “Mettner just called me to come out here. You two should have had a destination wedding.” She turned to Mettner. “What’ve you got?”
He told her what little they knew.
She pointed to a rolling suitcase that Officer Chan often brought to crime scenes, which had been left a few feet away but outside the crime scene tape. “I’ll get suited up.”
She slid her heels off and walked over to the suitcase, pulling out a Tyvek suit, booties, a skull cap and gloves. The suit was an awkward fit over her dress, but she made it work. She waited for Hummel and Chan to finish their photos and sketches and then slipped under the tape. Josie’s gaze jumped back and forth from the case to the body. In her wedding dress there was no way she would be able to get into one of the Tyvek suits, and she wasn’t about to contaminate the scene. She would have to wait for Dr. Feist’s assessment.
The mood was somber and the day eerily silent, as if even the birds were too sad to sing. Dr. Feist knelt beside Holly Mitchell’s head and used a gloved finger to lift the girl’s eyelids, one after the other. “Petechiae in the sclera of the eyes.”
Josie knew this meant that there were pinpoint red spots in the whites of the girl’s eyes indicating that she had been deprived of oxygen at some point before her death. The spots appeared when the small capillaries in the eyes hemorrhaged. It usually indicated death by asphyxiation or strangulation.
Dr. Feist leaned down, taking a closer look at the girl’s neck. “Bruising,” she noted. “Not from any kind of ligature, though. This bruising is irregular, more indicative of strangulation. Based on the pattern, it looks like maybe the person began to strangle her, stopped, and then finished the job later. Hummel, make sure you bag her hands in case there’s skin under her nails.”
Gently, Dr. Feist probed the girl’s hands, trying to dislodge them from whatever object they held against her body. The hands didn’t budge. “She’s still in full rigor,” Dr. Feist said.
Mettner said, “Does that mean she’s been dead only a couple of hours?”
Dr. Feist glanced up at him. “Rigor can take effect anywhere between one and six hours after death, Detective Mettner. The average is two to four hours. Rigor can last up to seventy-two hours. If you’re looking for time of death, I’ll have a better idea when I get her on the table. I’ll need to take her internal temperature and do some calculations, but it’s very likely she’s been dead for several hours.”
“You think this is where she died?” asked Mettner.
Dr. Feist frowned. “Hard to say. I don’t see any signs of a struggle. No marks in the grass, no broken tree branches. Then again, she’s not streaked with dirt or anything to indicate that she’s been dragged along the ground. Other than the hemorrhaging in her eyes and the bruising on her throat, it looks like she just laid down and went to sleep. Poor girl.”
Mettner tapped away at the note-taking app on his phone.
Gretchen said, “We’re going to have to talk to everyone who is or was here today. I’ll call in more back-up for that.”
“What’s that she’s got in her hands?” Josie asked.
Dr. Feist nodded toward Hummel and then moved out of his way so that he could kneel beside the girl. “It’s some kind of crude… doll, I think. Chan, what do you think?”
Chan walked over and peered down. “That’s weird,” she said. “I think you’re right, though. It’s meant to be a doll.”
“I can’t get close in this dress,” Josie said. “Can one of you take a photo and text it to Mett so I can see?”
Chan and Hummel froze, looking at Josie momentarily before turning their gazes toward Chief Chitwood. Josie looked at him as well. He shook his head, wisps of his white hair floating over his balding scalp. With a sigh, he said, “Quinn, Fraley, you’re supposed to be getting married today.” He looked at his wristwatch. “In about an hour, by my calculations. Why don’t you let us take care of this?”
Josie motioned toward Holly Mitchell. “I met that girl. I met her mother and her sister. I can’t walk away from this.”
Gretchen said, “Boss, no one is asking you to walk away. We’re only asking you to wait until after your wedding to get involved.”
Mettner said, “Walking out on your wedding is kind of shitty, boss.”
“Hey,” said Noah. “Watch it, Mett. It’s my wedding, too.”
Mettner shrugged, unfazed. “It’s still shitty.”
Josie said, “Our wedding venue is a crime scene.”
Noah stepped forward, toward Mettner. “If you don’t understand why we need to be here, to be involved, then you really don’t know us at all.”
Josie loved Noah even more than she already did for including himself in that statement. His unflinching and unwavering support, along with his uncanny ability to understand her, were exactly the reasons she was marrying him. She stepped up and slid her hand into his. “Just let me check on Holly’s mother. She lives nearby.”
The Chief said, “We’ll send someone. You two get back to your wedding.”
Josie said, “You won’t be able to find it unless one of us takes you.”
“You two don’t have to do everything, you know. Mettner and Gretchen are perfectly capable of handling this while the two of you get married. This is a huge resort. They could find somewhere else to have the ceremony. Your guests are already here. The band. The kitchen staff are cooking up a storm. You’re going to lose a lot
of money if you don’t get back to the hotel and get married.”
Josie glanced toward the body again and blinked back tears. She felt Noah’s hand squeeze hers. Could they get married an hour after the body of a child was found at their wedding venue? At the doorstep to the church in which they were going to exchange vows? She knew the answer to that question, but she knew their colleagues and family would fight them every step of the way. She said, “One of you come with us to Lorelei Mitchell’s house so she can be notified.”
Gretchen said, “Then you’ll come back here and get married?”
“Yes,” said Josie and Noah in unison. The gentle pressure of Noah’s hand told her that he was lying, too.
Three
Josie and Noah piled into Gretchen’s car while Gretchen stood just outside the driver’s side door and used her cell phone to call in more units. Noah sat in the front seat and Josie positioned herself across the entire back seat. Her dress was easy to move around in, but the bustle took up a lot of room. She had desperately wanted to change into comfortable clothes, but going back to the hotel and facing everyone would have taken far too long. There would be too many people for them to convince that what they were doing was acceptable. Josie couldn’t think of a single person, except perhaps her grandmother, Lisette, who would think that walking out on their own wedding to assist in solving a murder was okay. Once the time for the wedding had passed and Josie and Noah were still unmarried, their guests were far less likely to object to them changing clothes.
“You okay?” Noah asked.
Josie looked up to see him turned toward her, staring. “Yeah, you?”
He smiled. “Of course. I’m with you.”
“The wedding—” Josie started.
“Can wait. We’ll work it out. Let’s just check on Lorelei and go from there.”
Josie leaned forward and kissed him. He reached up and cupped her cheek, his warm palm lingering there. His hazel eyes darkened. “You had a bad feeling the day we hit the deer. I didn’t listen.”
