Chapter 32
Traci sat alone at her desk. Her office door was closed, but she could hear guests talking outside in the lobby, discussing the day’s shocking events in hushed tones.
Mostly the noise was a gray buzz as she scrolled through the pictures of her niece on her phone’s camera roll.
The most recent photo had been taken just the day before—Traci and Parrish posing, dressed in their matching floral Hawaiian sarongs. Parrish looked so fresh-faced, happy, even glamorous, with a hibiscus tucked behind one ear as she laughingly vogued for one of the reception desk clerks who obligingly snapped photos for them. There were other photos too, of the Saint staffers, standing in the lobby, all dressed in their Beach Bash outfits. Parrish and Livvy and Felice, Garrett and KJ stood arm in arm, smiling widely.
These photos, Traci realized with a jolt, were the last she would have of her niece.
Before that, there was a picture of Parrish on her first day of work, standing behind the guest relations desk dressed in her pink Saint polo shirt, with her name badge pinned on her chest. She looked so grown-up and efficient, with her hair pulled back in a severe bun.
Farther back than that on Traci’s phone, there were photos of Parrish at birthday parties, Christmases, on the beach, at the pool, gathered arm in arm with her college friends. The photo that took Traci’s breath away was the one taken during Parrish’s senior year of high school. That year, she and Hoke had treated their niece to a last-minute ski trip to Aspen.
A lifelong Southerner, Parrish adored the novelty of all the snow and was, like Hoke, a natural athlete who took easily to skiing, spending long days racing her uncle down the slopes. In the evenings, they’d hit the hot tub on the deck of their chalet, enjoying hot cocoa, and treat themselves to lavish dinners at the resort’s lodge.
“Best vacay evah!” Traci could still hear Parrish’s raucous laughter as she and Hoke set off on another trip up the ski lift.
“Hey, maybe you could help me get a job here next winter,” Parrish had suggested at dinner their last night at the resort, after the general manager, an old friend of Hoke’s, stopped by their table to say hello.
“What?” Hoke had raised an eyebrow. “Skip college?”
“Not skip. Maybe work here for a semester. Think what great experience it would give me when I come back to work for you guys at the Saint.”
“I’m thinking about the grief your old man would give me if I sanctioned something like that. He’s already pissed that you came on this trip with Traci and me,” Hoke said.
“Instead of going to Palm Beach with him and Madelyn? Gross. I would rather have stayed home with Grandpa than go anywhere with those two,” Parrish had said. “Please, Uncle Hoke? Pleeeaassse? Just talk to him about it. Please?”
Ric had, unsurprisingly, vetoed the idea of Parrish postponing college for even a semester, and it had only caused yet another crack in Hoke’s already eroding relationship with his younger brother.
With her fingertips, Traci enlarged the photo of the three of them with the snowy Aspen mountains in the background. And she realized, with another fresh wave of grief, that it was the last photo that she had of the three of them together. Six months later, Hoke’s plane had gone down.
She put her head down on the desktop. Unable to maintain her composure, she began to sob, her tears wetting the papers on her desk.
All day, she’d been unable to stop thinking about what Parrish’s last moments must have been like. The cops hadn’t said what killed Parrish, but Traci was sure this was not a death from natural causes. Was Parrish terrified? Had the killer watched and stalked her? Had he stood by in the dark while she drew her last breath? She rubbed her waterlogged eyes, wishing she could scrub away the tortuous thoughts that had haunted her all day.
And then she cried some more. She cried for Parrish, for the bright promise of her future, for her open and loving heart, for her love of Taylor Swift and cute, wildly inappropriate shoes, and iced coffee, and scary slasher movies.
Selfishly, she cried for herself, for the overwhelming sense of loss. First Hoke and now Parrish. For the past four years she’d felt as though she were walking through life dutifully, but in an emotional fog, which had only in the past few months started to lift. Now she felt achingly alone and empty. Again.
Traci tensed when someone knocked at her closed door. She fumbled in her desk drawer, found a tissue, and blew her nose.
Oh God. She was a blubbering mess. She should have gone home to have her breakdown in private.
“Mrs. Eddings?” A man’s voice.
“Just a minute.” Traci blew her nose again, dabbed the tears from her cheeks.
“Come in.”
It was Sheriff Coyle. “Just wanted to let you know we’ve done a pretty thorough search of that dorm, including your niece’s room.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you find anything?”
“Nothing that gives us any clue about what happened to your niece,” he said. “I’ve spoken with her dormmates, and I’d say they were as helpful as they could be, under the circumstances.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m sure they’re all upset about what happened.”
“Your general manager gave us the guest list from your event last night.” He held up a stapled-together sheaf of printer paper.
“I’d like you to take a look at this and see if any names stand out. Maybe someone who had a beef with your niece?”
“Now?”
“The sooner the better. Understand, we don’t want to be in your hair any longer than is necessary, but we do have a death investigation to conduct.”
She took the list and gazed down at it, but none of the names caught her eye. “Nobody on this list would have a reason to hurt Parrish. Sheriff, should I be concerned? For our guests’ safety, or for my staff?”
His expression remained neutral. “At this point, we still don’t know what killed your niece.”
“When will we know what happened? I mean, to Parrish. It’s so painful, not knowing.”
That muscle in his jaw twitched again. “Your brother-in-law has political pull in this county. I’ve already gotten a call from the county commission chair, wanting to know when we’ll have this investigation wrapped up. From what I understand, phone calls were made and favors were called in. The medical examiner is scheduled to do the autopsy first thing in the morning.”
“Ray Bierbower, our head of security, told me there was no sign of violence that he could see,” she said.
“No visible signs,” he corrected. “Look, I can’t talk to you about an ongoing investigation.”
“But I’m family,” she protested.
“Speak to Ric Eddings,” the sheriff said. “I’m going out to the dining room now, to talk to some of your staff. Is there a room where I can talk to people, in private?”
“The Azalea conference room, closest to the restaurant, is available,” Traci said, picking up her phone. “I’ll have it unlocked for you.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Ric Eddings stood in the half-open doorway of his home, glaring at her. His usually precision-styled hair was matted to his head; his eyes were bloodshot. He was dressed in baggy gym shorts and a faded white undershirt and he held a half-empty tumbler of what she assumed was scotch in his right hand. From the smell of him, it wasn’t his first drink of the day. Not even close.
Traci had prepared herself for this kind of greeting.
“Ric, I know you and I have been at cross-purposes lately, but I was hoping we could forget our differences, considering what’s happened. Parrish wouldn’t have wanted—”
“You don’t know shit about what Parrish wanted,” Ric said, his voice hoarse. “How dare you show up at my home like this?” He pointed a trembling finger at her and his speech was slurred. “My daughter is dead because of you. If you hadn’t guilt-tripped her into working for you this summer, hadn’t bribed her to move into that goddamn dorm with those low-lifes and pervs…”
“Hey!” she interrupted. “You want to know why your daughter was so eager to move out? I’ll tell you what she told me. She was tired of your lying and cheating and fighting with your wife and running around on her. I didn’t have to bribe her.”
Ric swayed a little, sloshing the scotch over the side of the tumbler he was clutching.
“I’m sorry,” Traci said, contrite. “I really don’t want to bicker with you. I’m sorry I talked Parrish into working for me this summer. Maybe if I hadn’t… And I know you’re in pain, but you have to know what Parrish meant to me, and to your brother. We loved her too, you know.” She tried to blink away a fresh wave of tears.
“Just one more thing. If you and Madelyn need help, you know, making funeral arrangements…”
Ric downed the rest of the scotch in a single gulp.
“I think I’ve had about enough of your help to last me a lifetime, Traci. Now get the hell off my porch. And don’t come back.”
He slammed the door in her face.