"Are you okay? You look wet," said Georgie, stopping in front of her.
"I've lost my team. I was just out in the marquee looking for them," she replied, sounding sad. "I think they've ditched me."
"Oh, we were just going to check the marquee."
"Don't bother. No one is out there. Dinner has been moved to the studio because of the storm, so I guess you'll probably find Wes or Rachel in there," explained Sally.
"I bet your team just got caught up in the game and hasn't realized you're not with them," said Georgie kindly.
Sally smiled. "Thanks, Georgie. None of you have seen them by any chance, have you?"
"Yeah, I did," said Sam. "I just saw them upstairs in the old traffic department."
I looked at Sam and glared.
"Oh, thanks, Sam," she said, a smile spreading to her eyes. "You're a legend." With that, she squeezed Jake's arm affectionately and moved in the direction of the nearest set of stairs.
Once she was out of sight, I turned to Sam. "You didn't just see her team upstairs. We haven't seen her team since entrée."
"Yeah, I know, but remember, Rachel told us to sabotage our opposition." His dimple flashed as a smile lit up his face.
"That's mean."
"Nah, Sally loves me. She'll see the funny side of it." I hoped for his sake she did.
On our way to the studio, we asked everybody we saw if they had found Faith and if they knew where Wes was. By the time we reached it, all we'd found out was that almost everyone had forgotten about Faith, and those who hadn't, thought she was still playing the game. But it appeared they were all still having a great time, following the clues as to whom the fake murderer could be, the storm only adding to the effect. So far, nobody had solved it, but whispers suggested that Arthur might have something to do with it.
Personally, I'd forgotten we were here for the game. It all seemed too real. Looking at Jake, I wasn't alone in thinking that.
Anxiety swirled again, but I reminded myself that even he thought she was hiding. We just needed to find out where. I still had my fingers crossed Stuart would find her sulking in the old house.
Entering the room, we found Georgie's mum, Dawn, making sure the caterers were doing their jobs. Tables and chairs had been relocated, and mountains of food covered every surface I could see. The smell of spit-roasted pork filled the air as my stomach grumbled. I remembered I hadn't eaten since lunch. I looked at my watch. It was eight-thirty.
"Thank goodness we had entrée," said Sam, rubbing his stomach as he spoke.
"Yeah, I'd be starving by now if we hadn't," agreed Matt.
Jake pulled up the nearest chair and sank into it, his head hanging low as he contemplated his feet. He'd been trying to phone Faith ever since she went missing, but it seemed that even when he could get a signal and connect, wherever she was, her phone was either switched off or not in a cell service area. Well, at least that's what the recorded message on the other end of the phone was telling him.
Katie walked past me and smiled.
"Did you find the dog?" I asked her, hoping it wasn't running around in this storm. We might not be able to help Jake, but hopefully someone helped that poor scared animal. She looked back at me perplexed.
"The dog?"
"Yeah, when we saw you over at the old house you were looking for a dog," I explained.
Recognition flashed. "Oh, no, I didn't. Hopefully, he's gone home."
I hoped so too.
Georgie's mum walked over to us. Dawn was four foot eight and skinny as a rake. Her gray hair was pulled into a bun, and she looked at us through her oversized glasses.
"Are you having a good night?" she asked.
Georgie and I shook our heads.
"Have you seen Wes at all?" asked Georgie.
"Wes? No, sorry. Should I have?"
"He went to call the police." We quickly brought Dawn up to speed with what had happened throughout our evening.
"Goodness, that's quite a story," she said, frowning at us. "I'm sure Faith is just making it up though. She always seemed like a drama queen."
I liked Dawn's thinking.
"Georgie, have you seen your father?" she asked, changing gears, only half-interested in what we were telling her.
"No, but he was going to unlock a door in the old house for us. I'm not sure what he was doing after that."
Dawn gave a disgusted sigh. "Bloody men. Never around when you need them."
"I'll help you," said Matt.
"Thank you, Matthew," said Dawn, visibly relaxing. "That would be amazing." She glared at the rest of us.
I shivered as Rachel's voice drifted toward us.
"Dawn," she said, stopping in front of us. "Is dinner ready to go?"
"Yes. Announce it whenever you're ready."
Rachel looked at me, her brows furrowed. "What the hell happened to your hair?" she asked, crinkling her nose. "God, you look terrible."
I reached up and touched my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I'd done my very best earlier to remove the (hopefully) fake blood from my hair, but without shampoo and a hair dryer, I wasn't about to get amazing results. I thought I'd done okay but obviously not.
"Are you okay?" Dawn asked Rachel.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she responded, shaking her head at me and turning her attention back to Dawn.
"You just look upset."
Rachel clicked her tongue. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I be upset?"
"I have no idea. Your eyes just look bloodshot, that's all."
"Probably because I'm bloody stressed!" shouted Rachel, looking around us as her mood changed dramatically. The word bipolar came to mind. "Georgie, go and make the PA announcement for dinner!" she demanded, her gaze stopping on Georgie.
"Why me?"
"Because I'm needed somewhere else, and I have no one to help me." She turned to point at me. "And it's all your fault!" she snapped.
"My fault?" I asked, shocked at her tone.
"Yes, you made up that ridiculous story about Faith, and Wes went to call the police. I haven't seen him since then. If it hadn't been for you, he'd be here helping me!"
"But did he get on to the police?"
"I guess so. But I told you, I haven't seen him."
"But the police aren't here yet?"
"Do they look like they're here?"
"Well, where's Wes?"
"I don't know."
"So he's not here?"
"Of course not! Do you think I'd say he wasn't here if he was?"
I actually thought Rachel was a little bit insane, but it didn't feel like now was the right time to vocalize that.
"Sorry," I sang, not really meaning it.
Rachel shook her head and gave me a disgusted look. Turning her attention to Georgie, she said, "Well? Are you going?"
"Oh! Sure." Georgie hurried off toward the nearest phone, ready to bring the PA to life and announce that dinner was served.
Rachel glared back at me, and I thought that Dawn was right. Her eyes did look bloodshot, and if I wasn't mistaken, that was the start of a bruise on her cheek. Plus, she'd changed her shirt. This one was black. She was wearing red earlier. I wondered about it as the PA dinged and dinner was announced.
Within minutes, the studio filled with the sounds of chatter as the groups packed the room.
I thought of Wes. The police force in Westport wasn't that large, so maybe he'd had to wait for someone to be free to come up and chat with us. After all, we didn't even know exactly what was going on here. The police couldn't leave a real crime in order to look for a woman who may or may not be missing. At least, that's what I hoped had happened.
I looked up as a commotion started on the opposite side of the room. Dawn wore a good portion of tonight's dessert as Matt stood in front of her, holding the empty bowl. I could see his face glowing from here.
"Matthew!" I heard her scream.
"I'm…I'm so, so sorry," he said, as Sam let out a snort of laughter.
&nb
sp; Poor Matt. He had good intentions at heart.
Dawn didn't seem to know what to do. She looked at Matt, baffled. "How do you manage it?" she asked him.
He stood scratching his head, also unsure of what to do.
Sam leaned in to me. "Watching Matt is the highlight of my life. You could make a sitcom out of his clumsiness alone."
When he'd managed to placate Dawn and attempted to clean the mess he'd made, the caterers gave him a reprieve and sent him away. He walked toward us, wiping the remains of the tiramisu from his shirt, licking his fingers.
"I'm going for another look around to see if I can find Wes," said Matt, defeat in his eyes. "I'd like to know what he found out from the police and when they're coming. I'm also curious as to what he was doing in Bernie's office earlier this evening."
"He was probably checking up to see what we were doing in there," I replied.
"Maybe, but he seemed surprised to see us. It felt off to me," explained Matt. "After you've had something to eat, I think we should keep looking for Faith, but we need a plan. We won't achieve anything the way we've been going."
I nodded in agreement.
"Can I come with you?" Georgie asked Matt. "I'd really like to get out of here for a while."
"The storm's still hanging around."
"I know, but storms don't really bother me."
Matt flashed a smile. "Sure. I'd love the company." Matt was clumsier than most. Maybe he wasn't the best person to be wandering around in a storm. Thank God Georgie was going with him.
"You'll be okay here, won't you?" she asked, turning her attention to me. "Sam'll take care of you."
Sam's smile was wicked.
"Why can't I go and look for Wes?" I asked, thinking alone time with Sam might not be a good idea.
"In case we miss him and he turns up with the police whilst we're gone."
"I'll take extra special care of you. I won't take my eyes off you," said Sam, pulling me in for a hug.
That was what I was afraid of.
With that, they left me with Sam and a very sad-looking Jake. "Hey, Jake," I yelled, pulling away from Sam. "Why don't you go with Georgie and Matt? It'll give you something to do, and it'll be better than sitting here."
He looked back at me, his face strained. "No. I'll stay. I'm waiting for Stuart. Plus, Faith might turn up, and I want to be here if she does."
"Fair enough. Can I get you something to eat?"
He shook his head and looked back at his feet. I sighed. At least I'd tried.
"You can get me something to eat." Sam grinned.
I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. He laughed, a deep masculine sound that caused goose bumps to break out all over me. I sighed again, disgusted with myself for having such inappropriate thoughts when Jake was in so much despair. Then again, it was his wife causing all this drama, so why shouldn't I enjoy the night a little?
Sam linked his arm through mine and dragged me toward the food. "You haven't eaten anything tonight," he said. "You must be starving."
My stomach gave a very well-timed growl as the smell of the cooked pork drifted toward me.
The knot of anxiety in my stomach meant that even though I thought I was hungry, I didn't really feel like eating, but I filled my plate with roast meat and veg anyway, hoping the smell of it might trigger my appetite.
I looked around at the groups of people. Everyone else in the room seemed to be enjoying themselves. At least, they were laughing. Even though, on closer inspection, I could see the tension within the groups.
Brent's girlfriend, Deanne, seemed completely pissed off as she death-stared his old fling, Jane. Marty, the voice-over guy, was completely drunk, leering at Deanne as Brent ignored him completely. Brent, who had joined the party, was too wrapped up in Sheryl, his other old fling from sales, to notice.
Wes's wife, Kelly, had no food on her plate, but she was holding a very large glass of Coke. Judging by the way she was swaying, I thought there was more in that glass than Coke alone.
Continuing my scan of the room, I quickly realized there was someone in every group who seemed unhappy. I glanced at Rachel to see how she was enjoying what she'd created. She stood with her back to the wall, eyeing everyone in the room. Her gaze stopped on Katie. I noticed an unspoken communication pass between them and wondered about it. Earlier Katie had told me she didn't get along with Rachel.
Sam grabbed my elbow and moved me away from the table. "Hey, you're hogging the food," he said, humor in his voice.
I looked over my shoulder and realized that whilst I'd surveyed the room, I'd been standing in front of the roast veggies, making everyone reach around me to get what they wanted.
Oops. "Sorry," I said, smiling back at him.
"No need to apologize to me. I filled my plate." He wasn't kidding. His plate was almost overflowing.
"How can you eat that much?" I asked as we made our way to a table set up in the far corner of the room.
"I'm a growing man. I need my food."
Sam used his free hand to pull out the chair for me. I blushed, uncomfortable with the gesture. I'd never had anyone hold out a chair for me before. Thankfully, the lighting on this side of the room was dull, so hopefully Sam couldn't see my red cheeks. If he did, he didn't say anything. I sat my plate on the table and put my knife and fork in the correct position, fiddling uncomfortably.
"It doesn't feel right to be eating," I said.
Sam put his plate on the table and sat opposite me, his expression full of compassion. "I know, but I've covered a lot of stories around the local state emergency service, and one thing I know for sure is that the rescuers always need to look after themselves. What good are they to the person who's lost if they pass out from lack of food or get dehydrated?"
"I don't think this is the same thing. We're hardly going to die from dehydration."
"Speak for yourself," replied Sam, smiling. "Anyway, I think what Jake said earlier about Faith faking this is right. I've been here when he's been distraught because she disappears. I've seen what she does to him."
"Then why does he stay with her?"
"I guess he really loves her."
I sat quietly and watched Sam eat, his words about Jake and Faith playing slowly through my mind. He knew them better than I did, so if he wasn't worried, why should I be? The rational side of my brain knew what he said was sensible. So why wouldn't my anxiety listen?
"So," I finally said to Sam, doing my best to ignore the anxiety. "How did someone like you end up working here for all these years?"
"Someone like me?"
"Yeah. You look like you should be on a beach somewhere, riding a wave, not stuck with your nose behind a camera."
"It's a job that pays the bills. I surf in my spare time. What about you? What's the history between you and Rachel?"
"Why do you think there's a history between us?"
"Because cute as you looked in it, surely that team leader headband would only be given to someone she wanted revenge on."
I smiled at his comments about how cute I looked.
"When I first started working here, which was a few months before you started, Rachel was my manager. She was always shouting at me for no reason."
Sam nodded as he took a bite of food. My thoughts stuttered as he licked his lips.
"Anyway," I continued, shaking myself, my anxiety completely forgotten, "she scared me a little, so I tended to keep my mouth shut, but one day, she went too far. I decided I should stand up for myself. Rachel flipped right the hell out and left."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "What did you do?"
"Burst into tears. And then I ran into Bernie's office. I figured I had to fess up and tell him what I'd done and maybe he could convince her to come back. Instead, he flipped the hell out and told her that she needed to get back to work immediately. Or else!"
"So he liked you more than Rachel, hey?"
I shrugged. "More like he didn't like being dictated to." I took a bite of potato and looke
d at Sam. "I never did ask you what you did before you worked here?" I said in between mouthfuls.
"That's because you would never talk to me then."
I blushed again at his comment. "I would so. I remember many conversations we had."
"Really?" Sam looked skeptical. "Name one of them."
My blush kicked up a notch as I racked my brain. "Umm… I remember you always asking me what I was doing that night."
It was Sam's turn to blush. "Yeah… Well, I was nosy." He smiled.
Sam looked closer at me, and the intensity increased in my stomach as the butterflies burst from their cocoons. I shifted uncomfortably on my chair, breaking eye contact. Which was a good thing. Sam's blue eyes had the ability to suck me right in, and if he weren't careful, I would leap over the table and kiss that full bottom lip of his.
"So," I said, my voice croaky, "what did you do before you started work here?"
Sam grinned that boyish grin and said, "I bummed around a bit and did the surfing thing. I wasn't good enough to make pro, but I always seemed to struggle with a proper job. My mum heard about this job and told me about it. She pulled in a few favors to get me here. Luckily, it turns out I quite like it!"
I smiled at his enthusiasm. I hadn't enjoyed a job that much since I'd been made redundant from Traffic five years ago.
"What do you love most about it?" I asked.
"Being outside most of the time. News cameramen cover all sorts of things from big news items like the recent murders to little things like that guy who married his dog last week."
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
"What? You missed that exciting bit of news?" Sam asked me.
"Was he clinically insane?"
"Apparently not," said Sam, laughing. "It was purely a platonic relationship."
Hey, I loved animals, but I couldn't imagine marrying a dog.
"I guess there are worse things," continued Sam, forking a piece of meat. "My sister has a dog, and he's great. Sure, he's caused her a few troubles, but I bet it's a lot less than a wife would cause this guy. Look at poor Jake, for instance. A dog would never cause you the kind of pain Faith's causing him."
Sam and I sat in silence for a few minutes as we dug into the food on our plates, both of us contemplating Faith's fate.
Invitation to Murder Page 8
