CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 13
Is a Dead Body Ever Going to Show Up?
“Fred! Fred, are you all right?”
Oliver is crouching by Fred on the floor of the furnace room while the rest of us crowd around him. Fred’s pale and still. He’s dressed for the rehearsal dinner in a cream linen suit, with a streak of dirt across the back and crumpled creases at the knees, like he sat down too long.
“Fred. Come on, Fred. Talk to me.”
A groan escapes Fred’s mouth, low and frightening, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Fred’s alive. Something bad happened down here, but not that.
He didn’t die.
He didn’t walk out on Emma.
Oliver puts an arm around Fred and gets him onto his back. Then he tips him up slowly into a sitting position. Fred moans at the effort, but the color is returning to his face as his eyes flutter open.
“Shouldn’t we wait till the doctor gets here?” David says. “I always thought you weren’t supposed to move people in these kinds of situations.”
“You’ve been in this kind of situation before?” I say.
“Well, no, but...it seems like common sense.”
“Is a doctor coming? Did you call one?”
I’m not sure why I’m feeling so hostile to David, besides the usual.
But his bad dialogue didn’t make Fred pass out in a basement.
Did it?
“What...” Fred says.
“Yes, Fred?” I say, moving closer. “Are you okay?”
He reaches up and touches the back of his head. “Someone...Something hit me.”
“Did you see who it was?” Oliver asks. He’s still crouched behind Fred, helping him stay upright.
“I...no...”
“There’s a doctor on staff,” Mr. Prentice says, “but he didn’t come to work today because of the storm.”
“Is there a hospital or a clinic we could call?”
“There’s a medical practice, but I’d wager they aren’t here either, because of the—”
“Storm, I get it.”
“We did warn your party.”
“Okay.”
“And you signed a waiver.”
“I did?”
“He did.” Mr. Prentice points to Fred, now sitting on his own but with his eyes only half open.
“He what ?” Tyler says.
“Signed a waiver of liability. For being here during the storm. It was the only way we’d agree to proceed with the event. I believe it was on behalf of the film’s production company? When in Rome, Inc.?”
Tyler’s anger is simmering close to the surface. “He doesn’t have the authority to do that.”
“That will be a question for another day, presumably.”
I reach around the back of Fred’s head gently. I’m not an EMT, but I did have lifeguard training as a teenager. Which qualifies me for almost nothing, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?
I know enough to feel a big lump back there, which I touch gingerly as he winces.
“There’s evidence of blunt force trauma,” I say.
“You sound so official,” Allison says.
I lean in front of Fred and hold up my hand. “How many fingers?”
“Two.”
“That’s right. And now?”
“Four.”
“Good. I don’t think he has a concussion.”
“Probably shouldn’t take your word for that, though,” Connor says. He’s standing behind David and Allison, looking unfazed.
It takes a lot to rumple Connor—I’ll give him that.
Is it possible Tyler asked him to take Fred out?
No, no. Connor’s shady AF, but he’s not a murderer .
“You have a better idea?” I ask.
“There must be someone with medical training on this island,” Allison says. “Or surely we can bring someone over on a boat?”
“All boats have been canceled because of the—”
“Storm, we get it!”
It feels like a funny moment, except for the fact that Fred really might need a doctor.
And what about the rest of us?
What if one of us needs a doctor?
Coming here was irresponsible.
You’ve probably already arrived at that conclusion.
“No need to take that tone,” Mr. Prentice says. “We are all here putting our lives at risk to accommodate the vagaries of some overpaid actors and—”
“Tell us how you really feel,” Allison says dryly.
David produces a notepad and a pen from his back pocket. He clicks the pen open.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking notes. This is good stuff.”
“For what?”
“The sequel.”
“I already told you, there isn’t going to be a sequel.”
“I don’t think that’s up to you, Eleanor,” Tyler says.
“It’s my book.”
“Where’s Emma?” Fred says slowly, stopping our childish argument in its tracks.
I snap my attention back to him. He’s got dirt across his nose and his eyes look exhausted.
“She’s upstairs. We should let her know you’re okay.” I look at the collection of men and women around me. “Simone, can you tell Emma we found Fred and he’s all right? And Mr. and Mrs. Winter, too? They’ll be worried.”
Simone folds her arms across her chest. “Why should it be me?”
“Just go, Simone.”
She wants to fight me, but she has no good excuse to refuse. So instead, she shrugs and then leaves.
“Can you at least check if anyone here has medical training?” I say to Mr. Prentice.
“Yes, of course.” He takes out his phone. “There’s no signal.”
“Well, go find one.” I make a move on motion with my hand, then turn to Fred again while the manager is bustling through the crowd. “Give me your phone,” I say quietly.
“What phone?”
“The burner. Quickly, Fred. It has a tracker on it.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. I palm it and put it in the pocket of my skirt, checking over my shoulder if anyone noticed what I was doing.
Great.
Everyone did.
Whatever.
Oliver’s even laughing at me, though he’s trying to mask it behind a serious expression.
I can’t blame him. I realized a while ago that I was bad at subterfuge, and I’m too old to change that now.
Not that I’m that old.
Good Lord, it’s like I’m the one who’s been hit on the head.
“What were you doing down here, Fred?” Oliver asks.
Fred moves his head slowly from side to side like he might be able to figure it out if he can shake the memories back into place. “I got a text.”
“From who?”
“He said his name was José. He wanted to talk about what happened at the hot tubs today.”
“José the electrician? Why would he call you?” I ask.
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“I will. Why did he want to meet down here?”
“He said he had something to show me and that it was easier to explain in person.”
“You didn’t find that suspicious?”
“I didn’t think...I didn’t believe anyone was truly targeting Emma.”
Plus, he’s not Emma.
“What happened when you got down here?” Connor asks.
“There wasn’t anyone. I tried to call José, but I had no reception. And then, the next thing I knew, there was this thunk , and I passed out.”
“What time did you come down here?” I ask.
“What time is it now?”
“Just past seven,” Allison says.
“It was around five. And...Oh.” Fred looks around at all of us, taking in our attire. “The wedding rehearsal...I missed it.”
“It’s fine, Fred,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
“Emma will be so disappointed.”
As if this was her cue, Emma rushes into the room and drops by Fred’s side. “Fred! You’re okay.”
He hugs her to him. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I was trying to figure out what happened to those hot tubs.”
“Oh, Fred! You should’ve let El do that.”
“I have a question,” David says, his hand hovering above his pad of paper and a devilish glint in his eye. “What was the number that called you? Or texted you, is that right?”
Fred shrugs.
“Why don’t you check your phone?”
I narrow my eyes at David, and he gives a little shrug of his shoulders.
I should’ve seen this coming, it implies.
And also, he’s going to use this in his next work.
I should know. I’m going to do it, too.
Fred pats himself down, then stops. “My phone’s in the room.”
Both Allison and Tyler look like they want to say something, but I stop them with my eyes.
They can be quite expressive when I want them to be.
“We’ll check it later,” I say.
“But Fred,” Emma says, “Connor said he was tracking you to some other phone?”
“I don’t have another phone. He must’ve slipped it into my pocket,” Fred says, daring Connor with his eyes to contradict him.
“Why, Connor? Why were you tracking Fred?” Emma searches Connor’s face in a way that’s hard to resist.
“That’s confidential,” Connor says, puffing out his chest.
“Yes, yes,” Tyler says. “And not important right now, I’m sure.”
“How can you say that, Tyler?”
“I think the most important thing is to get him some medical attention. And then contact the authorities to file a complaint.”
“The police?” Fred says. “No.”
“Why not, honey?”
“It will be in all the tabloids. I’ll look like an idiot.”
“But if someone hurt you...”
“El can figure it out, right, El?”
Six pairs of eyes turn toward me. “I can try.”
“Thank you.”
“But I do think we should call in the police.”
“I doubt you can,” David says.
“Why not?”
He raises his hands like he’s conducting an orchestra, clicking his pen for emphasis. “Because of the storm.”