The Last One at the Wedding by Jason Rekulak

Author:Jason Rekulak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

7.

When I left the trailer, Brody noticed I was limping—my lower back was still aching and messing up my entire gait—and he suggested I follow their access road out to the highway. “No offense,” he said, “but you don’t look like you’re in any shape to climb out the gorge.”

I took his suggestion. The route was long and quite a bit out of my way, and I didn’t make it back to Mom and Dad’s Restaurant until nearly two o’clock. I was backing out of my parking space when the door to the restaurant opened and my friend the bartender stepped outside. He recognized my Jeep, then squinted at me through the windshield and gave me a puzzled wave. I waved back, grateful to be in motion, so I wouldn’t have to stop and explain why I’d parked there.

Back at Osprey Cove, there were a half dozen cars waiting to enter the camp—a long line of new guests arriving for the wedding. The security team was stopping every vehicle to check IDs and collect signatures, so I settled in for a long wait. But then Hugo recognized me and came trotting over, insisting that I get out of my Jeep. “Margaret’s been asking for you. It’s her big weekend and you should be with your daughter. Not waiting for my team to do their job.”

He was already opening my door, so I couldn’t refuse him. “Thank you, Hugo. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Mr. Szatowski. Did you find what you needed in town?”

I realized I was empty-handed, that I hadn’t brought back any kind of bag. And from the way Hugo smiled, I think he knew he’d caught me in a lie.

“I found more than I expected,” I told him. “Has there been any news on the girl?”

“What girl?”

I couldn’t believe he had to ask.

“The dead one. Gwendolyn.”

“Oh, no, sir, I don’t think we’ll hear anything until next week.” Then he lowered his voice. “But since you are family, I will share some confidential information. The police found xylazine in her suitcase. You’re probably not familiar with the name but it’s a deplorable drug. Much more dangerous than heroin or even fentanyl. Some kind of animal tranquilizer used by farmers. But for the girl’s sake, Mr. Gardner wants to keep that information private.”

I turned over my keys and followed Main Street back inside the camp. Now that the guests were arriving in force, Osprey Cove had taken on a whole new level of energy. The landscapers and housekeepers had moved out of sight, and all that remained were the fruits of their labors—trees and flower beds popping with color, well-swept walkways, and immaculately clean cottages. Guests were everywhere—unpacking their cars, swinging in hammocks, whipping Frisbees, and greeting friends with hugs and high fives. It seemed like cocktail hour was already underway because everyone was holding a wineglass or plastic cup. No one seemed to be acknowledging that a woman had died here, that a body was found with two curious bruises and an investigation was still pending.

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