I nudged him with my elbow. “What could go wrong?”
I shouldn’t have asked that question.
Chapter 9
Wickhamseteverythingupwith Brig. By five thirty, we were at the lodge with Brig and a photographer. Golden sunlight rippling across the mountain snow as afternoon faded into evening was as perfect a backdrop as any cathedral.
I stood in front of the man who, for months, I’d dreamed of claiming as my own as he promised to be my lawfully wedded husband, to care for, be faithful to, honor, and stand with me for the rest of our lives... potentially. To my surprise, Wickham slipped a delicate gold band with an oval stone out of his pocket and placed it on my ring finger.
It was the happiest day of my life.
Brig finished up the ceremony; the photographer's camera snapped wildly. “You may kiss the bride.”
And he kissed me so sweetly the angels could have cried. I told myself it would last forever, and mostly believed.
After a few photographs, we ran off together toward our cabin, giddy, and laughing. Before I made it up the wooden steps, Wickham swept me off my feet. “I can’t let my new bride cross the threshold on her own.”
As a picture-perfect couple, with Wickham carrying me in his arms, we crossed into our little honeymoon suite. Then he turned on the lights, and I screamed so loud my ears rang.
Tim, the Grey Doors alternative strings player, lay face down in the middle of the room with a knife in his back.
I grabbed my phone and called 911. “We need help. There’s a dead person in our hotel—-little cabin thing—whatever this place is. The Sky Powder Resort, number 217. Just hurry—we’re on our honeymoon.”
I sobbed, and Wickham wrapped his arm around me, then helped me to sit on the sofa. “What’s happening? How did he end up in our cabin?”
Despondent, he shook his head and patted my back. “I wish I knew. The Grey Doors are definitely being targeted, though. I can’t believe Tim’s... What was he even doing here?”
“Would he have followed us? I can’t believe we just ignored the danger and eloped. I talked myself intobelieving a fairytale.” My chest shook as I pulled in a breath. “What were we thinking?”
“Hey.” Wickham pulled me into another warm, gentle embrace. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Who did this?” I leaned into Wickham’s arms, letting him hold me as we waited for the police to arrive. I glanced at poor Tim, lifeless on the floor, and a chill shot down my spine. Someone had killed him, which meant there was a killer on the loose, and anyone in the band might be next. This wasn’t a romantic adventure. This was a nightmare. Someone must have followed us to the resort. In fact, they were probably watching our cabin even now. “It’s gotta be the same person who killed Alex. But the biggest question is why on earth was he in our room?”
“You’re probably right. Two people in the same band don’t usually get murdered by different people within days of each other.” Wickham rubbed his temples, and his aura dimmed nearly to gray.
“Tim... Alex... they didn’t have any connections. They may both have made the wrong person angry?” My imagination had gotten the better of me.
A heavy knock on the frame ofthe open door.
A pretty Black woman, who must’ve worked out five times a week, stood on the doorstep. “Sir, ma’am, we’re going to need to have you step outside. This is a crime scene.”
“Oh, okay.” Fortunately, my purse was right next to me, so I grabbed it along with my coat. I wasn’t sure whether they would let me collect the rest of my things. Wickham had paid the wedding photographer, so fortunately, he at least had his wallet on him. “Will they let us back in here?”
“Doubtful.” The officer took a second look at me. “You two just get married or something?”
“It hasn’t even been an hour,” Wickham said matter-of-factly, though I sensed tension under the surface. “This is not how we’d imagined our evening going.”
“Well, congratulations, I suppose. I’m Detective Ortho. I’ll be handling this investigation. We’re going to need to chat in a little while. You both alright with that?” Detective Ortho was close to my mother’s age, but in much better physical shape. Definitely not the stereotypical detective in a deerstalker cap and trench coat I’d imagined as a kid.
“Of course. We’ll wait in the lodge,” I answered for both of us. It was too cold and dark to wait outside in our wedding clothes.
A crowd of skiers flooded the lodge, leaving scarcely any room in the main lounge. But we found a sofa at the edge of the foyer and waited. I huddled next to Wickham, my head on his shoulder.
He looked down and brushed a lock of hair from my face. "Lydia, I promise to protect you. Whatever happens, we'll be alright."
"I'm not afraid of being hurt. No mere human stands a chance against you. It's only, part of me believed we'd go back to that cabin and live happily ever after." I blinked back a tear attempting to escape my eye.
"We'll get things sorted, don't worry. But for now, you're right. We need to focus on the reality in front of us. We're playing cat and mouse with a killer. I'm wracking my brain to think of a connection between Tim and Alex, but I've come up blank." Wickham's jaw tightened, and though he held me gently in his arms, his fist clenched.
