This new bit of information confuses me. Why wouldn’t Phoebe have told me about her cousin? One of the subjects we often discussed was our lack of family. I’m sure there’s a good reason she left this out, but I can’t help but wonder why.

  “They didn’t speak, but I was able to get in contact with her earlier.” He presses his lips into a thin line.

  This is interesting. The way Phoebe made it sound, she didn’t have anyone else except her mom. Not that it’s completely unusual. I have four cousins, and we rarely talk, other than the obligatory birthday wish on Facebook. I wonder what happened between them that would cause Phoebe to not acknowledge her existence.

  “What did she—the cousin—say when you told her?”

  “She was very upset,” he says. “She said to keep her posted about the funeral arrangements and that she will be here no matter what.”

  I’m sure she will be. The fact is, this long-lost cousin is Phoebe’s only relative, and her money has to go somewhere.

  “Hmm … if they didn’t have a relationship, then why would she be so eager to come to her funeral,” I pause as I fold my arms, “unless she thinks there’s something in it for her?”

  James frowns. “I don’t think that’s it. I often suggested to Phoebe that they try to mend fences. No matter what happened in the past, they were family, and there’s nothing more important than that.”

  Why is he getting so defensive?

  “Anyway, I didn’t come in here to talk about her cousin. I just wanted to know if you saw anything unusual when you found her. Something that would explain how or why this happened?”

  I bite my lip. It’s obvious he’s overwhelmed, but I don’t know what he expects me to tell him. Does he actually believe that she would do this to herself?

  “No, I mean—it all happened so fast.” I sigh. “You don’t think she would have done this to herself, do you? Because I don’t.”

  James looks down at the floor before rising to his feet. “I don’t know what to think right now.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I have a lot to do. Please let me know if you remember anything else.”

  I nod and grab a sticky note from my desk. I scribble my number on it and hand it to him. “I definitely will. Here’s my number. Please let me know if I can help with any of the arrangements.”

  He takes the paper from me and shoves it into his pocket. “I have everything under control, but thank you.”

  He’s gone a few seconds later, and I sit still behind my desk, trying to absorb our conversation and the events that have transpired over the course of the day. My head spins. It bothers me that James would question whether she killed herself or not. He should know her better than that.

  Something just doesn’t feel right about any of this.

  I know life has been busy lately and Phoebe and I haven’t been able to spend as much time together, but I would’ve known if something was seriously bothering her. I just can’t believe that she would ever harm herself.

  I put my face in my hands and take a few breaths. What is going on here? What am I missing? Phoebe wouldn’t kill herself. I just know it. This means something else happened to her. But what? The thought sends a shiver through me.

  It’s time to go home.

  Chapter Five

  I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I’m so tired I can barely turn the key to get into my apartment. I finally get the door unlocked, drag myself inside, and drop my bag onto the kitchen table. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of coconut water. Coconut water is my newest health obsession, thanks to Phoebe. You name it, I’ve tried it. South Beach, keto, juicing, and I’ve even made up my own called the All the Avocado Plan.

  I eat avocado with everything.

  This was another thing Phoebe and I would talk about. She would come to me with a new health fad to try, and I was always game. I had complete trust in her when it came to health because she took really good care of herself. This makes me think about those pills I saw on the floor in her room. Phoebe was too health-conscious to take all of that stuff. She was always talking about natural alternatives. I need to tell the detective that. I didn’t even think of it until now because I was so exhausted when I was giving my statement.

  Considering the day I’ve had, I probably deserve something stronger than coconut water. Perhaps a few bottles of wine? What does one drink after a long day of work? What about a long day of work that includes finding a dead body? And not just any body, but the body of my friend?

  I could Google it, but I don’t know the rules about Googling dead bodies … and that’s probably not the smartest search history to have on your computer.

  “Casey, you’re finally home,” Kendall says, coming out of her room. “Did you see Ryan?”

  I kick off my shoes and sit on the couch, pulling my legs tightly to my chest.

  “Yeah, I talked to him.” I take a sip of my coconut water and wipe away the tears that are once again escaping my eyes. “This has been one of the longest and most difficult days of my life.”

  Kendall sits down next to me and puts her arm around me. She has a charcoal mask on her face, which is a typical part of her beauty regime. As an aspiring actress, she says her face is her most precious commodity. Personally, I would never use one of those masks, even if I were an actress. I’ve seen those videos of people ripping the thing off their faces along with the top layer of their skin. The image still makes my skin crawl.

  “I just feel terrible. I can’t believe my friend is gone. I wish I had been able to help her. I should have gone to her room sooner. Now there are questions about whether or not she took her own life, but I don’t believe it for a second. She would never do that. She often talked about the pain it caused those left behind. And she knew it firsthand after losing her husband to suicide.”

  Kendall raises her eyebrows.

  “What?”

  She shakes her head like she wants to say something. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what? Just say it.”

  She lets out a huff of air. “This may sound strange, but you know nothing shocks me anymore.”

  I’m reminded that Kendall does know how I’m feeling. She went through a horrific ordeal of her own after there were several deaths at the movie studio she works at.

  “I could just be projecting because of my own experiences. I don’t even know her—”

  “Kendall,” I try interrupting her ramble.

  “—and just by the way you described her—”

  “Kendall!” I shout louder.

  “—maybe she didn’t do it.”

  Finally. Someone is thinking along the same lines as me.

  This brings up another issue—the thought of someone else killing her and being in our hotel at the same time as the rest of us. It’s too much to comprehend. Especially after hearing that the package I delivered is now missing. Was the package connected to her death somehow?

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking,” I tell her. “What if someone killed her but set it up to look like a suicide?” I close my eyes as I try to process my thoughts.

  “I know it sounds insane and I should mind my own business, but look at what happened at Blossom,” she says.

  “Oh, I know. And it doesn’t sound insane at all. There’s something else that’s been bothering me …” The bracelet flashes through my mind again.

  “What?”

  “She always wore this bracelet I gave her for her birthday, but when I found her, it was lying on the floor near her body.”

  She shrugs. “So, maybe she took it off?”

  “Yeah …” I trail off. “I just think it was odd that it was right there. When I saw her earlier in the day, she mentioned how she never took it off. It almost seemed like it was there for a reason.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but what if I was meant to find it …”

  Kendall lightly touches her charcoal mask. “Crap. I have to get this thing off before it’s permanently stuck to my skin,” she says, quickly standing up. She pauses before heading to the bathroom. “Casey, just be careful. If someone did this to Phoebe, they went out of their way to try to make it look like she killed herself.”

  The hair stands up on the back of my neck. “I know, and that’s truly terrifying.”

  She nods. “Yes, it is. The thought of someone around you being capable of taking another person’s life is—” She shakes her head before rushing off to the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I stretch out on our plush gray couch and hug a throw pillow tightly to my chest. I lie still, listening to the sounds around me: Kendall humming in the bathroom, the humming of the refrigerator.

  My eyes begin to close, and Phoebe’s body flashes through my mind, immediately causing me to quickly jump to my feet. Every cell in my body is begging me to go to bed, but I need to take a hot shower to relax, and also because I feel disgusting. I really wish it were possible to wash away bad memories too.

  I force myself to get off the couch and make my way to my room. I cringe when I see myself in the mirror. My light brown eyes are overshadowed by the puffy, tear-drained swelling. What’s left of the morning’s eye makeup is now smudged in the corners and under my lash line, and of course my head hurts. Hopefully a hot shower will help.

  I take my time in the shower, letting the warm water pour over my head. When I’m finished, I put on my favorite yoga pants and curl up under my soft, white down comforter.

  For some reason, James pops into my head, and I think about his question. What did I see in Phoebe’s room?

  Ugh, I’ll never be able to forget. Phoebe in her gold gown with her Emmys next to her. In an odd and twisted way, it seemed like she was on display for the whole world to see her.

  I pull the comforter tighter around my body, and I’m about to drift off to sleep when another thought pops into my head.

  The scene really was perfectly staged … almost too perfect. She spent her life in the spotlight, drawing attention to herself. Like Kendall said, someone went to a lot of trouble to make an impression. They obviously wanted her to be lying there with the dramatic flair she was known for. It seems like whoever did this knew her and wanted to make a point. That brings me back to the question of who would do this—and why?

  * * *

  I’m jolted from a restless night sleep at six o’clock a.m. I frantically push on the phone screen to shut off one of the sounds that brings ultimate misery—the alarm.

  I lie still with my eyes closed as I push back tears—I’m surprised I have any left.

  I made the mistake of looking online last night. I saw one article after another tearing into Phoebe’s life, all suggesting she took her own life. I have no idea what time I actually drifted off to sleep. All I remember is lying in bed, crying for what felt like hours. My mind spun with all the what-ifs and potential explanations for yesterday’s nightmare.

  I wish I could call in sick today. I’m sure everyone would understand, given the circumstances, but today is Max’s first official day. The last thing I want to do is to give him the idea that I can’t handle stressful situations that could arise in my job. Yes, the events of yesterday are rare (I hope!), but I still need to put on a brave face and show why I was given this opportunity.

  I roll out of bed and jump into a hot shower. The only thing that distracts me from images of Phoebe is the interaction I had with Max yesterday. It felt like we had a connection. Of course, I could be completely off base and reading too much into it. Yesterday was an emotional day for me, so imagining that I had a moment with my new (and very good-looking) boss is completely possible. I think it’s been proven that stressful and traumatic situations bring people together. I even saw Peyton and Belinda being civil to each other. That’s never happened before and probably will never happen again. I mean, it took someone dying for it to happen, so in that case, let’s hope it doesn’t.

  I continue to daydream as I mindlessly get ready for work. I add some loose waves to my hair and use half a bottle of concealer to cover the bags under my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m bothering with the eye makeup considering my eyes fill with tears every time I think of Phoebe.

  After standing in my closet forever, I decide on a fuchsia blouse to go under my black jacket. I tie a scarf loosely around my neck and smooth down my skirt and take a few cleansing breaths as I mentally prepare for what this day will bring.

  * * *

  When I arrive at the hotel, Peyton is cheerfully talking to a few guests at the front desk. I look around the lobby, and I’m reminded that life goes on regardless of tragedy. People are buzzing around excitedly, ready to enjoy some time at our grand hotel. From what I can see, none of them seem concerned with Phoebe’s death. And why would they be? I, on the other hand, need to figure out how to keep it together. I have to work through my grief no matter what it takes.

  The press is already painting the picture that Phoebe took her own life. I really should avoid all sources of media, at least for now. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about all the possible ways they could spin this situation. I know it won’t be long before the conspiracies start—unless they already have.

  Our lobby is definitely my favorite spot in the entire hotel. I’ve always been in awe of the marble floors, elegant furniture, and exquisite chandelier. Not to mention floor-to-ceiling windows that let in an abundance of natural light. I could totally live in our lobby. When I was younger, I would dream of staying in a place like this, and now I get to come here every day. I feel so grateful for this, even on days like today.

  I don’t even realize that I’m standing in the middle of the lobby staring off into space until I catch Max watching me curiously from behind the front desk.

  Here we go.

  His eyes are fixed on me as I make my way toward him. The corner of his mouth turns up into a half smile, causing a stir within me. Whoa, I need to pull myself together.

  “Good morning, Casey,” he says politely. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Morning.” I clear my throat. “I’m trying my best to hold it together. I had a difficult night, but I’m here.”

  I can only imagine what he’s dealing with right now. I’m sure he didn’t expect such an awful thing to happen when starting his new job. It’s definitely not the way I would want to kick off new employment.

  “Okay, so far. I would like to have a quick meeting at nine, if you don’t mind. I’ve spoken with Detective Cain, and we have a few important things to discuss. I’ll just come to your office.”

  He seems like a different person from yesterday, so reserved and professional. This must be what he was talking about. The slave driver version of Max is showing his face.

  I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “Okay.”

  He walks off without another word. I watch as he approaches every guest in the lobby. He’s very good with the guests, engaging and welcoming them to our amazing hotel. He’s probably exactly who we needed here. Colton would rarely come out of his office, and now we all know about the activities he was engaging in behind the scenes.

  “How’s it going?” I whisper to Peyton. “Max is definitely in full-blown work mode.” I wave at an elderly couple as they walk by.

  “Oh yeah,” she says. “There’s some crazy stuff going down right now. Alfie said he couldn’t tell me anything yet, but I’m totally freaking out.” She turns and greets a man wearing a business suit as he walks by. “Good Morning.”

  “What do you mean by crazy?” I ask. “How can it be any worse than yesterday?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think he’s stressing out with the change in management. It is his job to keep us all safe.”

  This reminds me about my conversation with Kendall last night.

  “Peyton, I’m having serious doubts that Phoebe did this to herself, and I hate that the press is ripping her name apart,” I say under my breath.

  “You too?” she replies. “Personally, I don’t believe the suicide thing. I think someone killed her.”

  We look at each other in horror.

  “What makes you think that?” I ask eagerly.

  She furrows her brow. “I’m not sure exactly. Phoebe was very sure of herself. I just don’t see her ending her life in that way.” She folds her arms. “Not that people can’t put on an act and pretend that everything’s fabulous. I still don’t think that’s the case here.”

  That’s very logical.

  “Well, Max just told me we’re having a meeting this morning. Hopefully, I’ll get some more info. It would be helpful to know what we’re dealing with.”

  A group of five women walk through the door and make their way toward the front desk.

  “Welcome to the Fountain Rose Resort and Spa,” Peyton says cheerfully.

  I glance at their matching T-shirts that say Meri’s Getting Married. Clever. The girls are giggling and talking about the escapades they have planned for the weekend. I’ve never taken part in one of those wild bachelorette party weekends, but I’ve witnessed some of the behaviors working in this industry. It’s safe to say it’s going to be a busy few days here at the hotel.

  I leave Peyton to do her thing and make my way to my office. I sit down at my desk and rub my temples. I knew this was going to be a hard day before I arrived. I just need to do whatever I can to focus on why I’m here. Focus, Casey, focus.

  I jump right into my job, listening to the voicemails that I missed yesterday while I was dealing with the Phoebe … situation.

  “Casey. This is Ruby Carson. I need to book two suites for this coming weekend. I prefer them to be on my floor and adjoining, with a view of the mountains, and keep the complimentary Cristal flowing. Jojo always took care of this stuff, but since you took her job, I’m counting on the same attention and detail.”

  I roll my eyes while taking notes on her message.

  “Casey, Ruby again. Can you inform housekeeping that I expect them at the exact same time every day? If they are early or late, it will interfere with my meditation time.”

 

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