The Best Man to Trust

CHAPTER Eleven



“I think it’s finally starting to slow down,” Rick said. He stood just outside the open kitchen door, peering up at the night sky.

“It’s so dark, how can you tell?” Ellen asked.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and started brushing off the flakes that had fallen on him. “Can’t tell for certain, but that’s what it looks like to me. And if it is over, I can try to get out to the garage tomorrow and see about hooking up the plow.”

Standing on the other side of the kitchen island from Ellen, Meredith let out a slow sigh of relief. “That’s great, Rick.” Finally some good news.

Rick eased himself onto a seat at the kitchen table. “With any luck I’ll be able to start digging out the day after tomorrow, but it’ll take some time to reach the garage and the plow to begin with.”

“Still, it’s a start,” Meredith said.

“You sure anyone’s coming down for dinner?” Ellen asked. She finished tossing the salad she’d been working on for the past ten minutes, finally setting the bowl aside. “I’d hate to see all this food go to waste.”

Meredith set the last of the silverware that needed to be taken out to the dining room on a tray with the plates. “I reminded everyone what time dinner was at lunch. They all said they’d be here. Besides, I’m sure they must be getting a little stir-crazy by now.”

“That’s true,” Ellen said. She turned to check on the chicken breasts she was serving as the entrée. “I haven’t seen anyone in hours. Been awfully quiet today. Even more than usual in this place. Feels unnatural somehow.”

The cook was right. Meredith had felt it, too. Most of the wedding party had kept to their rooms the rest of the day. Meredith didn’t know if it was to catch up on their sleep or because they felt safer behind closed doors—or both. It didn’t really matter.

On one hand, the blessed calm had been a relief after last night. On the other, the stillness in the house felt ominous somehow. Almost as though it was too quiet. She hadn’t been able to relax. Instead, Meredith had felt the apprehension building in the pit of her stomach all day, as though her instincts were telling her something bad was about to happen, and every second that passed without it happening just made the waiting so much worse.

It was impossible to forget that there was still a killer in the house. Someone whose identity, whose motives, were still unknown.

Someone who wanted them to be afraid...

She heard the first signs of voices in the dining room. “There they are,” Meredith said, shaking off her gloomy thoughts. “I should get this stuff out there.”

Picking up the tray, she moved toward the kitchen door. As she pushed through it into the dining room, Meredith kept her fingers crossed that the meal would go smoothly.

They’d already begun gathering, she noted, automatically starting to count all the faces. Her eyes met Tom’s, but she didn’t let her gaze linger. Giving him a slight nod, she continued with the others. Scott. Rachel. Alex. Greg. And—

“Where’s Jess?”

It was Alex who asked the question, voicing exactly what Meredith had been about to think.

She slammed to a stop, her heart seizing at the question. The dishes and silverware clattered on the tray in her hands, the noise jangling her nerves further.

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, all eyes going to the place where Jessica had sat during the previous meals, including at lunch.

The seat was empty.

“No one’s seen her?” Tom asked, glancing at the others.

“No,” Greg said. The others shook their heads.

Meredith’s gaze flew to Tom’s, meeting for a split second before she immediately placed the tray she carried onto the nearest table and moved for the doorway.

“It could be nothing,” he said right behind her, and she realized he was following her. From the sound of the footsteps behind her, he wasn’t the only one. “She could be fine.”

“I hope so,” Meredith said. Prayed it was the case, was more accurate.

Arriving in the main hall, she hurried up the stairs, doing her best not to break into an all-out run. No need to show how concerned she really was and make everyone more nervous than they had to be.

As soon as she reached the second floor, she saw the door of Jessica’s room was closed. Moving straight to it, she knocked on the hard surface, hoping she’d get an angry yell in response. “Jessica?”

No answer. Meredith didn’t detect a single sound on the other side of the door.

Her unease growing, she heard those who’d followed her coming to a stop behind her.

“She could be asleep,” Rachel suggested weakly, the fear in her voice making it clear how much she believed it.

“Maybe,” Scott murmured in a comforting tone, not sounding at all convincing.

“Jessica?” Meredith tried again. When there was still no response, she reached down and tried the knob.

It turned in her hand.

Meredith immediately froze, her fingers holding the knob in midturn as the implications of it sank in. Behind her, someone inhaled sharply, everyone going still.

“She wouldn’t have left her door unlocked,” Alex said softly, giving voice to what they all were thinking.

No, she certainly wouldn’t have. Not as scared and suspicious as Jessica was.

Trying to hold back the terror she felt climbing in her throat, Meredith slowly pushed the door open.

“Jessica?” she called again, just in case, not wanting to surprise the woman if she somehow was fine, somehow hadn’t heard the knock. She probably had armed herself, would attack if startled.

The door slowly opened, gradually revealing the room inside. Everything appeared to be quiet and still.

Her heart pounding, deafening in her ears, Meredith took one step into the room, then another.

And stopped.

She didn’t need to go any farther. She could see the bed from there.

Could see that Jessica would never answer again.

What stood out the most was the blood. It was splattered across the bedspread, garish and ugly against the muted colors of the comforter.

And in the middle of it was Jessica, lying on top of the mattress, a knife in her chest.