The Best Man to Trust - By Kerry Connor Page 0,25
it. Then again, Ellen had no reason to be as invested in this place as much as Meredith. It really was just a job to her, not her dream.
She heard the door behind her suddenly swing open. Her pulse leaping, Meredith jerked toward the sound.
Tom stood just inside the room, holding the swinging door open. Those deep blue eyes zeroed in on her. Something that looked an awful lot like relief flashed across his face.
“There you are,” he said.
At the confirmation that he’d been looking for her, her heart did a foolish, ridiculous little lurch in her chest. “Did you need something?” she asked. The words had barely left her mouth when a terrible suspicion hit her. “Did something happen?”
“No,” he said quickly, stepping forward into the room. “I went by your room and there was no answer. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Like I said last night, I’m not sure how safe it is to be wandering around here alone.”
As much as she believed she didn’t need his concern, she couldn’t help but feel a little touched by it. “I’m fine,” she assured him with a smile. “I’m surprised you’re up this early. I figured everybody might want to stay in bed later after last night.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted.
“Do you need coffee as badly as I do?” she asked.
“I’d love some.”
“Coming right up.” She turned toward the other woman. “Ellen, is—”
“Freshly brewed and ready to be poured.” The cook nodded toward the counter.
“Thank you,” Meredith said, her earlier annoyance with the woman momentarily forgotten.
“Sure thing.” Her mouth curving at the corners, the cook shot her a look Meredith couldn’t quite read. Then Ellen’s gaze shifted to Tom for a second, her smile deepening, before she turned back to her work.
Meredith could feel a flush climbing in her cheeks. She focused on pulling two mugs from the cabinet and pouring the coffee. “I was thinking it might be worthwhile to go through Haley’s things. There might be a clue or something that could indicate who might have killed her. I know it’s a crime scene, but the most important thing right now is to figure out who did this. I can’t sit around and do nothing knowing there’s a killer on the loose.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” he agreed, though she detected a hint of hesitancy in his voice. She knew how hard it had to be for him to believe that one of his friends could be a killer. Maybe he was wondering if he truly wanted to find anything in Haley’s room, something that could very well prove one of those friends was involved. Of course, if they didn’t find anything it might be further proof that the killer wasn’t one of his friends, but someone else....
Meredith resisted the instinctive urge to glance at Ellen. She wanted to believe neither of her employees was responsible. It made more sense that Haley had been killed by someone who’d known her, not a complete stranger. But if the killer wasn’t a member of the wedding party, it had to be one of the staff. Rick or Ellen.
Ellen, who evidently hadn’t believed the weddings should continue, and didn’t seem all that upset that they wouldn’t or that she’d have to find another job...
Pushing the thoughts aside, Meredith turned back to Tom and held out the coffee cup to him. “It might be good if you could document the room, as well,” she said. “So the police know where everything was before we moved any of it.”
“I can do that,” he agreed. “Not a problem.”
She watched him lift the cup to his lips and take a sip. In spite of everything, she felt a little shiver of awareness at the knowledge they’d soon be alone again, working together.
In a room where a murder had been committed, she reminded herself, an entirely different shiver quaking through her. And that was all that mattered.
* * *
THE UPSTAIRS HALLWAY had been quiet and still when Tom had left his room. He’d expected the others were still in bed, and after the night they’d had, he’d figured they’d stay there for hours. But it was only five minutes later when the others began to appear, congregating in the dining room.
Alex was the first to arrive, peering blearily around the room. “Coffee?” he blurted out when he spotted Tom.
Tom pointed to the carafes—one regular, one decaf—Meredith had set out on a side table. “The one on the left is the one you