Page 159 of Summers at the Saint
Her face fell. “But maybe it burned up in the fire?”
“Felice told me about how you two found Parrish’s notebook,” Traci said.
“I miss Parrish,” Livvy said, her lower lip trembling. “And I can’t believe they’d kill her over some stinking mattresses and televisions. We were having so much fun that night. Until, you know…” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and scrolled through her camera roll.
“Look,” she said, holding up the phone. “That’s us, in the golf cart, on the way to the afterparty. Parrish didn’t even want to go, but I talked her into it…”
Shannon studied the photo. “Geez, side by side, the two of you in those same Hawaiian dresses, same goofy smiles…”
“Let me see that,” Traci said, taking the phone. “You look almost like twins,” she murmured.
“Not really,” Livvy said. “Parrish was taller and so much prettier.”
“A mistake,” Traci said slowly. “KJ said it was all a big mistake.”
“Of course he’d claim that,” Shannon said impatiently.
“What if it really was a mistake?” Traci said, her eyes riveted to the photo. “Whelan saw some of the investigator’s notes. More than one person at the party said that the last time they saw Parrish she was talking to Cedric, the lead singer from the band.”
“I saw them together too,” Livvy said. “He handed her a Solo cup of the punch. And a joint.”
“Which was probably what killed her,” Traci said. “But what if they didn’t mean to kill Parrish at all? What if…”
She stood abruptly. “Text me that picture, please, Livvy. I’ve gotta go.”
“Go where?” Shannon asked.
“Back to the island.”
CHAPTER 70
On the drive back to the Saint, Traci kept replaying the interview with KJ over and over in her mind. She couldn’t get over his casual tone as he told how he and Garrett had hidden in the woods outside the dorm, getting stoned, waiting for the fire to start while Livvy and Felice, their friends, were locked inside, unconscious and helpless.
“Then Garrett took off on the golf cart,” KJ said. He’d sounded so bitter at his coconspirator’s betrayal.
Where had Garrett gone after he left the scene of the fire, she wondered. How far had he gotten on the golf cart? She only remembered seeing two cars in the parking lot at the dorm following the fire.
She picked up her phone and called Livvy.
“Hey, Mrs. E.”
“Liv, what kind of car does Garrett drive?”
“Huh?”
“Car? What make and model does Garrett drive?”
“Lemme think. Okay, yeah, he drives, like, a crappy old Nissan. Black, with a lot of rust. Why do you want to know?”
“Just wondering.”
What if, Traci thought, she’d been wrong? What if one or both of the men were still on the island? Where would they be?
Her phone rang as she was pondering the possibilities. It was Whelan.
“Hey. I thought we were having dinner together. I’m here with Felice. Where are you?”
Damn. She’d completely forgotten.
